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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/17308-8.txt b/17308-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ef6c617 --- /dev/null +++ b/17308-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,21270 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Sunrise, by William Black + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Sunrise + +Author: William Black + +Release Date: December 14, 2005 [EBook #17308] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SUNRISE *** + + + + +Produced by Robert Cicconetti, Michael Punch and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + SUNRISE. + + + BY + + + WILLIAM BLACK. + +_Author of "Shandon Bells," "Yolande," "Strange Adventures of a +Phaeton," "Madcap Violet" etc., etc._ + + + NEW YORK: + JOHN B. ALDEN, PUBLISHER, + 1883. + + + + +CONTENTS. + + CHAPTER PAGE + + I. A FIRST INTERVIEW. 1 + II. PLEADINGS. 8 + III. IN A HOUSE IN CURZON STREET. 14 + IV. A STRANGER. 23 + V. PIONEERS. 29 + VI. BON VOYAGE! 37 + VII. IN SOLITUDE. 44 + VIII. A DISCOVERY. 51 + IX. A NIGHT IN VENICE. 58 + X. VACILLATION. 64 + XI. A COMMISSION. 72 + XII. JACTA EST ALEA. 79 + XIII. SOUTHWARD. 86 + XIV. A RUSSIAN EPISODE. 94 + XV. NEW FRIENDS. 101 + XVI. A LETTER. 108 + XVII. CALABRESSA. 115 + XVIII. HER ANSWER. 123 + XIX. AT THE CULTURVEREIN. 129 + XX. FIDELIO. 137 + XXI. FATHER AND DAUGHTER. 144 + XXII. EVASIONS. 151 + XXIII. A TALISMAN. 158 + XXIV. AN ALTERNATIVE. 165 + XXV. A FRIEND'S ADVICE. 172 + XXVI. A PROMISE. 179 + XXVII. KIRSKI. 186 + XXVIII. A CLIMAX. 193 + XXIX. A GOOD-NIGHT MESSAGE. 201 + XXX. SOME TREASURES. 208 + XXXI. IN A GARDEN AT POSILIPO. 215 + XXXII. FRIEND AND SWEETHEART. 223 + XXXIII. INTERVENTION. 230 + XXXIV. AN ENCOUNTER. 237 + XXXV. THE MOTHER. 245 + XXXVI. THE VELVET GLOVE. 252 + XXXVII. SANTA CLAUS. 259 + XXXVIII. A SUMMONS. 266 + XXXIX. A NEW HOME. 274 + XL. A CONCLAVE. 280 + XLI. IN THE DEEPS. 288 + XLII. A COMMUNICATION. 295 + XLIII. A QUARREL. 302 + XLIV. A TWICE-TOLD TALE. 308 + XLV. SOUTHWARD. 316 + XLVI. THE BEECHES. 321 + XLVII. AT PORTICI. 329 + XLVIII. AN APPEAL. 337 + XLIX. AN EMISSARY. 345 + L. A WEAK BROTHER. 352 + LI. THE CONJURER. 359 + LII. FIAT JUSTITIA. 366 + LIII. THE TRIAL. 373 + LIV. PUT TO THE PROOF. 380 + LV. CONGRATULATIONS. 387 + LVI. A COMMISSION. 394 + LVII. FAREWELL! 401 + LVIII. A SACRIFICE. 409 + LIX. NATALIE SPEAKS. 416 + LX. NEW SHORES. 424 + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +A FIRST INTERVIEW. + + +One chilly afternoon in February, while as yet the London season had not +quite begun, though the streets were busy enough, an open barouche was +being rapidly driven along Piccadilly in the direction of Coventry +Street; and its two occupants, despite the dull roar of vehicles around +them, seemed to be engaged in eager conversation. One of these two was a +tall, handsome, muscular-looking man of about thirty, with a sun-tanned +face, piercing gray eyes, and a reddish-brown beard cropped in the +foreign fashion; the other, half hidden among the voluminous furs of the +carriage, was a pale, humpbacked lad, with a fine, expressive, +intellectual face, and large, animated, almost woman-like eyes. The +former was George Brand, of Brand Beeches, Bucks, a bachelor unattached, +and a person of no particular occupation, except that he had tumbled +about the world a good deal, surveying mankind with more or less of +interest or indifference. His companion and friend, the bright-eyed, +beautiful-faced, humpbacked lad, was Ernest Francis D'Agincourt, +thirteenth Baron Evelyn. + +The discussion was warm, though the elder of the two friends spoke +deprecatingly, at times even scornfully. + +"I know what is behind all that," he said. "They are making a dupe of +you, Evelyn. A parcel of miserable Leicester Square conspirators, +plundering the working-man of all countries of his small savings, and +humbugging him with promises of twopenny-halfpenny revolutions! That is +not the sort of thing for you to mix in. It is not English, all that +dagger and dark-lantern business, even if it were real; but when it is +only theatrical--when they are only stage daggers--when the wretched +creatures who mouth about assassination and revolution are only +swaggering for half-pence--bah! What part do you propose to play?" + +"I tell you it has nothing to do with daggers and dark lanterns," said +the other with even greater warmth. "Why will you run your head against +a windmill? Why must you see farther into a mile-stone than anybody +else? I wonder, with all your travelling, you have not got rid of some +of that detestable English prejudice and suspicion. I tell you that when +I am allowed, even as an outsider, to see something of this vast +organization for the defence of the oppressed, for the protection of the +weak, the vindication of the injured, in every country throughout the +globe--when I see the splendid possibilities before it--when I find that +even a useless fellow like myself may do some little thing to lessen the +mighty mass of injustice and wrong in the world--well, I am not going to +stop to see that every one of my associates is of pure English birth, +with a brother-in-law on the Bench, and an uncle in the House of Lords. +I am glad enough to have something to do that is worth doing; something +to believe in; something to hope for. You--what do you believe in? What +is there in heaven or earth that you believe in?" + +"Suppose I say that I believe in you, Evelyn?" said his friend, quite +good-naturedly; "and some day, when you can convince me that your newly +discovered faith is all right, you may find me becoming your meek +disciple, and even your apostle. But I shall want something more than +Union speeches, you know." + +By this time the carriage had passed along Coventry Street, turned into +Prince's Street, and been pulled up opposite a commonplace-looking house +in that distinctly dingy thoroughfare, Lisle Street, Soho. + +"Not quite Leicester Square, but near enough to serve," said Brand, with +a contemptuous laugh, as he got out of the barouche, and then, with the +greatest of care and gentleness, assisted his companion to alight. + +They crossed the pavement and rang a bell. Almost instantly the door was +opened by a stout, yellow-haired, blear-eyed old man, who wore a huge +overcoat adorned with masses of shabby fur, and who carried a small lamp +in his hand, for the afternoon had grown to dusk. The two visitors were +evidently expected. Having given the younger of them a deeply respectful +greeting in German, the fur-coated old gentleman shut the door after +them, and proceeded to show the way up a flight of narrow and not +particularly clean wooden stairs. + +"Conspiracy doesn't seem to pay," remarked George Brand, half to +himself. + +On the landing they were confronted by a number of doors, one of which +the old German threw open. They entered a large, plainly furnished, +well-lit room, looking pretty much like a merchant's office, though the +walls were mostly hung with maps and plans of foreign cities. Brand +looked round with a supercilious air. All his pleasant and friendly +manner had gone. He was evidently determined to make himself as +desperately disagreeable as an Englishman can make himself when +introduced to a foreigner whom he suspects. But even he would have had +to confess that there was no suggestion of trap-doors or sliding panels +in this ordinary, business-like room; and not a trace of a dagger or a +dark lantern anywhere. + +Presently, from a door opposite, an elderly man of middle height and +spare and sinewy frame walked briskly in, shook hands with Lord Evelyn, +was introduced to the tall, red-bearded Englishman (who still stood, hat +in hand, and with a portentous stiffness in his demeanor), begged his +two guests to be seated, and himself sat down at an open bureau, which +was plentifully littered with papers. + +"I am pleased to meet you, Mr. Brand," he said, speaking carefully, and +with a considerable foreign accent. "Lord Evelyn has several times +promised me the honor of making your acquaintance." + +Mr. Brand merely bowed: he was intent on making out what manner of man +this suspected foreigner might be; and he was puzzled. At first sight +Ferdinand Lind appeared to be about fifty or fifty-five years of age; +his closely cropped hair was gray; and his face, in repose, somewhat +care-worn. But then when he spoke there was an almost youthful vivacity +in his look; his dark eyes were keen, quick, sympathetic; and there was +even a certain careless ease about his dress--about the turned-down +collar and French-looking neck-tie, for example--that had more of the +air of the student than of the pedant about it. All this at the first +glance. It was only afterward you came to perceive what was denoted by +those heavy, seamed brows, the firm, strong mouth, and the square line +of the jaw. These told you of the presence of an indomitable and +inflexible will. Here was a man born to think, and control, and command. + +"With that prospect before me," he continued, apparently taking no +notice of the Englishman's close scrutiny, "I must ask you, Mr. +Brand--well, you know, it is merely a matter of form--but I must ask +you to be so very kind as to give me your word of honor that you will +not disclose anything you may see or learn here. Have you any +objection?" + +Brand stared, then said, coldly, + +"Oh dear, no. I will give you that pledge, if you wish it." + +"It is so easy to deal with Englishmen," said Mr. Lind, politely. "A +word, and it is done. But I suppose Lord Evelyn has told you that we +have no very desperate secrets. Secrecy, you know, one must use +sometimes; it is an inducement to many--most people are fond of a little +mystery; and it is harmless." + +Brand said nothing; Lord Evelyn thought he might have been at least +civil. But when an Englishman is determined on being stiff, his +stiffness is gigantic. + +"If I were to show you some of the tricks of this very room," said this +grizzled old foreigner with the boyish neck-tie, "you might call me a +charlatan; but would that be fair? We have to make use of various means +for what we consider a good end, a noble end; and there are many people +who love mystery and secrecy. With you English it is different--you must +have everything above-board." + +The pale, fine face of the sensitive lad sitting there became clouded +over with disappointment. He had brought this old friend of his with +some vague hope that he might become a convert, or at least be +sufficiently interested to make inquiries; but Brand sat silent, with a +cold indifference that was only the outward sign of an inward suspicion. + +"Sometimes, it is true," continued Mr. Lind, in nowise disconcerted, "we +stumble on the secrets of others. Our association has innumerable +feelers: and we make it our business to know what we can of everything +that is going on. For example, I could tell you of an odd little +incident that occurred last year in Constantinople. A party of four +gentlemen were playing cards there in a private room." + +Brand started. The man who was speaking took no notice. + +"There were two Austrian officers, a Roumanian count, and an +Englishman," he continued, in the most matter-of-fact way. "It was in a +private room, as I said. The Englishman was, after a time, convinced +that the Roumanian was cheating; he caught his wrist--showed the false +cards; then he managed to ward off the blow of a dagger which the +Roumanian aimed at him, and by main force carried him to the door and +threw him down-stairs. It was cleverly done, but the Englishman was +very big and strong. Afterward the two Austrian officers, who knew the +Verdt family, begged the Englishman never to reveal what had occurred; +and the three promised secrecy. Was not that so?" + +The man looked up carelessly. The Englishman's apathy was no longer +visible. + +"Y-yes," he stammered. + +"Would you like to know what became of Count Verdt?" he asked, with an +air of indifference. + +"Yes, certainly," said the other. + +"Ah! Of course you know the Castel' del Ovo?" + +"At Naples? Yes." + +"You remember that out at the point, beside the way that leads from the +shore to the fortress, there are many big rocks, and the waves roll +about there. Three weeks after you caught Count Verdt cheating at cards, +his dead body was found floating there." + +"Gracious heavens!" Brand exclaimed, with his face grown pale. And then +he added, breathlessly, "Suicide?" + +Mr. Lind smiled. + +"No. Reassure yourself. When they picked out the body from the water, +they found the mouth gagged, and the hands tied behind the back." + +Brand stared at this man. + +"Then you--?" He dared not complete the question. + +"I? Oh, I had nothing to do with it, any more than yourself. It was a +Camorra affair." + +He had been speaking quite indifferently; but now a singular change came +over his manner. + +"And if I _had_ had something to do with it?" he said, vehemently; and +the dark eyes were burning with a quick anger under the heavy brows. +Then he spoke more slowly, but with a firm emphasis in his speech. "I +will tell you a little story; it will not detain you, sir. Suppose that +you have a prison so overstocked with political prisoners that you must +keep sixty or seventy in the open yard adjoining the outer wall. You +have little to fear; they are harmless, poor wretches; there are several +old men--two women. Ah! but what are the poor devils to do in those long +nights that are so dark and so cold? However they may huddle together, +they freeze; if they keep not moving, they die; you find them dead in +the morning. If you are a Czar you are glad of that, for your prisons +are choked; it is very convenient. And, then suppose you have a clever +fellow who finds out a narrow passage between the implement-house and +the wall; and he says, 'There, you can work all night at digging a +passage out; and who in the morning will suspect?' Is not that a fine +discovery, when one must keep moving in the dark to prevent one's self +stiffening into a corpse? Oh yes; then you find the poor devils, in +their madness, begin to tear the ground up; what tools have they but +their fingers, when the implement-house is locked? The poor devils!--old +men, too, and women; and how they take their turn at the slow work, hour +after hour, week after week, all through the long, still nights! Inch by +inch it is; and the poor devils become like rabbits, burrowing for a +hole to reach the outer air; and do you know that, after a time, the +first wounds heal, and your fingers become like stumps of iron--" + +He held out his two hands; the ends of the fingers were seamed and +corrugated, as if they had been violently scalded. But he could not hold +them steady--they were trembling with the suppressed passion that made +his whole frame tremble. + +"Relay after relay, night after night, week after week, month after +month, until those poor devils of rabbits had actually burrowed a +passage out into the freedom of God's world again. And some said the +Czar himself had heard of it, and would not interfere, for the prisons +were choked; and some said the wife of the governor was Polish, and had +a kind heart; but what did it matter when the time was drawing near? And +always this clever fellow--do you know, sir, his name was Verdt +too?--encouraging, helping, goading these poor people on. Then the last +night--how the miserable rabbits of creatures kept huddled together, +shivering in the dark, till the hour arrived! and then the death-like +stillness they found outside; and the wild wonder and fear of it; and +the old men and the women crying like children to find themselves in the +free air again. Marie Falevitch--that was my sister-in-law--she kissed +me, and was laughing when she whispered, '_Eljen a haza_!' I think she +was a little off her head with the long, sleepless nights." + +He stopped for a second; his throat seemed choked. + +"Did I tell you they had all got out?--the poor devils all wondering +there, and scarcely knowing where to go. And now suppose, sir--ah! you +don't know anything about these things, you happy English +people--suppose you found the black night around you all at once turned +to a blaze of fire--red hell opened on all sides of you, and the bullets +plowing your comrades down; the old men crying for mercy, the young ones +falling only with a groan; the women--my God! Did you ever hear a woman +shriek when she was struck through the heart with a bullet? Marie +Falevitch fell at my feet, but I could not raise her--I was struck down +too. It was a week after that I came to my senses. I was in the prison, +but the prison was not quite so full. Czars and governors have a fine +way of thinning prisons when they get too crowded." + +These last words were spoken in a calm, contemptuous way; the man was +evidently trying hard to control the fierce passion that these memories +had stirred up. He had clinched one hand, and put it firmly on the desk +before him, so that it should not tremble. + +"Well, now, Mr. Brand," he continued, slowly, "let us suppose that when +you come to yourself again, you hear the rumors that are about: you +hear, for example, that Count Verdt--that exceedingly clever man--has +been graciously pardoned by the Czar for revealing the villanous +conspiracy of his fellow-prisoners; and that he has gone off to the +South with a bag of money. Do you not think that you would remember the +name of that clever person? Do you not think you would say to yourself, +'Well, it may not be to-day, or to-morrow, or the next day: _but some +day_?'" + +Again the dark eyes glowed; but he had a wonderful self-control. + +"You would remember the name, would you not, if you had your +sister-in-law, and your only brother, and six or seven of your old +friends and comrades all shot on the one night?" + +"This was the same Count Verdt?" Brand asked, eagerly. + +"Yes," said the other, after a considerable pause. Then he added, with +an involuntary sigh, "I had been following his movements for some time; +but the Camorra stepped in. They are foolish people, those +Camorristi--foolish and ignorant. They punish for very trifling +offences, and they do not make sufficient warning of their punishments. +Then they are quite imbecile in the way they attempt to regulate labor." + +He was now talking in quite a matter-of-fact way. The clinched hand was +relaxed. + +"Besides," continued Ferdinand Lind, with the cool air of a critic, +"their conduct is too scandalous. The outer world believes they are +nothing but an association of thieves and cut-throats; that is because +they do not discountenance vulgar and useless crime; because there is +not enough authority, nor any proper selection of members. In the +affairs of the world, one has sometimes to make use of queer +agents--that is admitted; and you cannot have any large body of people +without finding a few scoundrels among them. I suppose one might even +say that about your very respectable Church of England. But you only +bring a society into disrepute--you rob it of much usefulness--you put +the law and society against it--when you make it the refuge of common +murderers and thieves." + +"I should hope so," remarked George Brand. If this suspected foreigner +had resumed his ordinary manner, so had he; he was again the haughty, +suspicious, almost supercilious Englishman. + +Poor Lord Evelyn! The lad looked quite distressed. These two men were so +obviously antipathetic that it seemed altogether hopeless to think of +their ever coming together. + +"Well," said Mr. Lind, in his ordinary polished and easy manner, "I must +not seek to detain you; for it is a cold night to keep horses waiting. +But, Mr. Brand, Lord Evelyn dines with us to-morrow evening; if you have +nothing better to do, will you join our little party? My daughter, I am +sure, will be most pleased to make your acquaintance." + +"Do, Brand, there's a good fellow;" struck in his friend. "I haven't +seen anything of you for such a long time." + +"I shall be very happy indeed," said the tall Englishman, wondering +whether he was likely to meet a goodly assemblage of sedition-mongers at +this foreign persons table. + +"We dine at a quarter to eight. The address is No. ---- Curzon Street; but +perhaps you had better take this card." + +So they left, and were conducted down the staircase by the stout old +German; and scrambled up into the furs of the barouche. + +"So he has a daughter?" said Brand, as the two friends together drove +down to Buckingham Street, where they were to dine at his rooms. + +"Oh, yes; his daughter Natalie," said Lord Evelyn, eagerly. "I am so +glad you will see him to-morrow night!" + +"And they live on Curzon Street," said the other, reflectively. "H'm! +Conspiracy _does_ pay, then!" + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +PLEADINGS. + + +"Brother Senior Warden, your place in the lodge?" said Mr. Brand, +looking at the small dinner-table. + +"You forget," his companion said. "I am only in the nursery as yet--an +Illuminatus Minor, as it were. However, I don't think I can do better +than sit where Waters has put me; I can have a glimpse of the lights on +the river. But what an extraordinary place for you to come to for +rooms!" + +They had driven down through the glare of the great city to this silent +and dark little thoroughfare, dismissed the carriage at the foot, +climbed up an old-fashioned oak staircase, and found themselves at last +received by an elderly person, who looked a good deal more like a +bronzed old veteran than an ordinary English butler. + +"Halloo, Waters!" said Lord Evelyn. "How are you? I don't think I have +seen you since you threatened to murder the landlord at Cairo." + +"No, my lord," said Mr. Waters, who seemed vastly pleased by this +reminiscence, and who instantly disappeared to summon dinner for the two +young men. + +"Extraordinary?" said Brand, when they had got seated at table. "Oh no; +my constant craving is for air, space, light and quiet. Here I have all +these. Beneath are the Embankment gardens; beyond that, you see, the +river--those lights are the steamers at anchor. As for quiet, the lower +floors are occupied by a charitable society; so I fancied there would +not be much traffic on the stairs." + +The jibe passed unheeded; Lord Evelyn had long ago become familiar with +his friend's way of speaking about men and things. + +"And so, Evelyn, you have become a pupil of the revolutionaries," George +Brand continued, when Waters had put some things before them and +retired--"a student of the fine art of stabbing people unawares? What an +astute fellow that Lind must be--I will swear it never occurred to one +of the lot before--to get an English milord into their ranks! A stroke +of genius! It could only have been projected by a great mind. And then +look at the effect throughout Europe if an English milord were to be +found with a parcel of Orsini bombs in his possession! every ragamuffin +from Naples to St. Petersburg would rejoice; the army of cutthroats +would march with a new swagger." + +His companion said nothing; but there was a vexed and impatient look on +his face. + +"And our little daughter--is she pretty? Does she coax the young men to +play with daggers?--the innocent little thing! And when you start with +your dynamite to break open a jail, she blows you a kiss?--the charming +little fairy! What is it she has embroidered on the ribbons round her +neck?--'_Mort aux rois_?' '_Sic semper tyrannis_?' No; I saw a much +prettier one somewhere the other day: '_Ne si pasce di fresche ruggiade, +ma di sangue di membra di re_.' Isn't it charming? It sounds quite +idyllic, even in English: '_Not for you the nourishment of freshening +dews, but the blood of the limbs of kings_!' The pretty little +stabber--is she fierce?" + +"Brand, you are too bad!" said the other, throwing down his knife and +fork, and getting up from the table. "You believe in neither man, woman, +God, nor devil!" + +"Would you mind handing over that claret jug?" + +"Why," he said, turning passionately toward him, "it is men like you, +who have neither faith, nor hope, nor regret, who are wandering +aimlessly in a nightmare of apathy and indolence and indifference, who +ought to be the first to welcome the new light breaking in the sky. What +is life worth to you? You have nothing to hope for--nothing to look +forward to--nothing you can kill the aimless with. Why should you desire +to-morrow? To-morrow will bring you nothing different from yesterday; +you will do as you did yesterday and the day before yesterday. It is the +life of a horse or an ox--not the life of a human being, with the +sympathies and needs and aspirations of a man. What is the object of +living at all?" + +"I really don't know," said the other, simply. + +But this pale hump-backed lad, with the fine nostrils, the sensitive +mouth, the large forehead, and the beautiful eyes, was terribly in +earnest. He forgot about his place at table. He kept walking up and +down, occasionally addressing his friend directly, at other times +glancing out at the dark river and the golden lines of the lamps. +And he was an eloquent speaker, too. Debarred from most forms of +physical exercise, he had been brought up in a world of ideas. +When he went to Oxford, it was with some vague notion of subsequently +entering the Church; but at Oxford he became speedily convinced that +there was no Church left for him to enter. Then he fell back on +ęstheticism--worshipped Carpaccio, adored Chopin, and turned his rooms +at Merton into a museum of old tapestry, Roman brass-work, and +Venetian glass. Then he dabbled a little in Comtism; but very soon he +threw aside that gigantic make-believe at believing. Nevertheless, +whatever was his whim of the moment, it was for him no whim at all, +but a burning reality. And in this enthusiasm of his there was no room +left for shyness. In fact, these two companions had been accustomed to +talk frankly; they had long ago abandoned that self-consciousness +which ordinarily restricts the conversation of young Englishmen to +monosyllables. Brand was a good listener and his friend an eager, +impetuous, enthusiastic speaker. The one could even recite verses to +the other: what greater proof of confidence? + +And on this occasion all this prayer of his was earnest and pathetic +enough. He begged this old chum of his to throw aside his insular +prejudices and judge for himself. What object had he in living at all, +if life were merely a routine of food and sleep? In this selfish +isolation, his living was only a process of going to the grave--only +that each day would become more tedious and burdensome as he grew older. +Why should he not examine, and inquire, and believe--if that was +possible? The world was perishing for want of a new faith: the new faith +was here. + +At this phrase George Brand quickly raised his head. He was accustomed +to these enthusiasms of his friend; but he had not yet seen him in the +character of on apostle. + +"You know it as well as I, Brand; the last great wave of religion has +spent itself; and I suppose Matthew Arnold would have us wait for the +mysterious East, the mother of religions, to send us another. Do you +remember 'Obermann?'-- + + "'In his cool hall, with haggard eyes, + The Roman noble lay; + He drove abroad, in furious guise, + Along the Appian Way; + + "'He made a feast, drank fierce and fast, + And crowned his head with flowers-- + No easier nor no quicker passed + The impracticable hours. + + "'The brooding East with awe beheld + Her impious younger world. + The Roman tempest swelled and swelled, + And on her head was hurled. + + "'The East bowed low before the blast, + In patience, deep disdain; + She let the legions thunder past, + And plunged in thought again.'" + +The lad had a sympathetic voice; and there was a curious, pathetic +thrill in the tones of it as he went on to describe the result of that +awful musing--the new-born joy awakening in the East--the victorious +West veiling her eagles and snapping her sword before this strange new +worship of the Child-- + + "And centuries came, and ran their course, + And, unspent all that time, + Still, still went forth that Child's dear force, + And still was at its prime." + +But now--in these later days around us!-- + + "Now he is dead! Far hence He lies + In the lorn Syrian town; + And on his grave, with shining eyes, + The Syrian stars look down." + +The great divine wave had spent itself. But were we to sit supinely +by--this was what he asked, though not precisely in these consecutive +words, for sometimes he walked to and fro in his eagerness, and +sometimes he ate a bit of bread, or sat down opposite his friend for the +purpose of better confronting him--to wait for that distant and +mysterious East to send us another revelation? Not so. Let the +proud-spirited and courageous West, that had learned the teachings of +Christianity but never yet applied them--let the powerful West establish +a faith of her own: a faith in the future of humanity itself--a faith in +future of recompense and atonement to the vast multitudes of mankind who +had toiled so long and so grievously--a faith demanding instant action +and endeavor and self-sacrifice from those who would be its first +apostles. + + "The complaining millions of men + Darken in labor and pain." + +And why should not this Christianity, that had so long been used to gild +the thrones of kings and glorify the ceremonies of priests--that had so +long been monopolized by the rich and the great and the strong, whom its +Founder despised and denounced--why should it not at length come to the +help of those myriads of the poor and the weak and the suffering whose +cry for help had been for so many centuries disregarded? Here was work +for the idle, hope for the hopeless, a faith for them who were perishing +for want of a faith. + +"You say all this is vague--a vision--a sentiment?" he said, talking in +the same eager way. "Then that is my fault. I cannot explain it all to +you in a few words. But do not run away with the notion that it is mere +words--a St. Simonian dream of perfectibility, or anything like that. It +is practical; it exists; it is within reach of you. It is a definite +and immense organization; it may be young as yet, but it has courage and +splendid aims; and now, with a great work before it, it is eager for +aid. You yourself, when you see a child run over, or a woman starving of +hunger, or a blind man wanting to cross a street, are you not ready with +your help--the help of your hands or of your purse? Multiply these by +millions, and think of the cry for help that comes from all parts of the +world. If you but knew, you could not resist. I as yet know little--I +only hear the echo of the cry; but my veins are burning; I shall have +the gladness of answering 'Yes,' however little I can do. And after all, +is not that something? For a man to live only for himself is death." + +"But you know, Evelyn," said his friend, though he did not quite know +what to answer to all this outburst, "you must be more cautious. Those +benevolent schemes are very noble and very captivating; but sometimes +they are in the hands of rather queer people. And besides, do you quite +know the limits of this big society? I thought you said something about +vindicating the oppressed. Does it include politics?" + +"I do not question; I am content to obey," said Lord Evelyn. + +"That is not English; unreasoning and blind obedience is mere folly." + +"Perhaps so," said the other, somewhat absently; "but I suppose a man +accepts whatever satisfies the craving of his own heart. And--and I +should not like to go alone on this new thing, Brand. Will you not come +some little way with me? If you think I am mistaken, you may turn back; +as for me--well, if it were only a dream, I think I would rather go with +the pilgrims on their hopeless quest than stay with the people who come +out to wonder at them as they go by. You remember-- + + "'Who is your lady of love, oh ye that pass + Singing? And is it for sorrow of that which was + That ye sing sadly, or dream of what shall be? + For gladly at once and sadly it seems ye sing. + --Our lady of love by you is unbeholden; + For hands she hath none, nor eyes, nor lips, nor golden + Treasure of hair, nor face nor form; but we + That love, we know her more fair than anything.'" + +Yes; he had certainly a pathetic thrill in his voice; but now there was +something else--something strange--in the slow and monotonous cadence +that caught the acute ear of his friend. And again he went on, but +absently, almost as if he were himself listening-- + + "--Is she a queen, having great gifts to give? + --Yea, these; that whoso hath seen her shall not live + Except he serve her sorrowing, with strange pain, + Travail and bloodshedding and bitterest tears; + And when she bids die he shall surely die. + And he shall leave all things under the sky, + And go forth naked under sun and rain, + And work and wait and watch out all his years." + +"Evelyn," said George Brand, suddenly, fixing his keen eyes on his +friend's face, "where have you heard that? Who has taught you? You are +not speaking with your own voice." + +"With whose, then?" and a smile came over the pale, calm, beautiful +face, as if he had awakened out of a dream. + +"That," said Brand, still regarding him, "was the voice of Natalie +Lind." + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +IN A HOUSE IN CURZON STREET. + + +Armed with a defiant scepticism, and yet conscious of an unusual +interest and expectation, George Brand drove up to Curzon Street on the +following evening. As he jumped out of his hansom, he inadvertently +glanced at the house. + +"Conspiracy has not quite built us a palace as yet," he said to himself. + +The door was opened by a little German maid-servant, as neat and round +and rosy as a Dresden china shepherdess, who conducted him up-stairs and +announced him at the drawing-room. It was not a large room; but there +was more of color and gilding in it than accords with the severity of +modern English taste; and it was lit irregularly with a number of +candles, each with a little green or rose-red shade. Mr. Lind met him at +the door. As they shook hands, Brand caught a glimpse of another figure +in the room--apparently that of a tall woman dressed all in cream-white, +with a bunch of scarlet geraniums in her bosom, and another in her +raven-black hair. + +"Not the gay little adventuress, then?" was his instant and internal +comment. "Better contrived still. The inspired prophetess. Obviously +not the daughter of this man at all. Hired." + +But when Natalie Lind came forward to receive him, he was more than +surprised; he was almost abashed. During a second or two of wonder and +involuntary admiration, he was startled out of his critical attitude +altogether. For this tall and striking figure was in reality that of a +young girl of eighteen or nineteen, who had the beautifully formed bust, +the slender waist, and the noble carriage that even young Hungarian +girls frequently have. Perhaps the face, with its intellectual forehead +and the proud and firmly cut mouth, was a trifle too calm and +self-reliant for a young girl: but all the softness of expression that +was wanted, all the gentle and gracious timidity that we associate with +maidenhood, lay in the large, and dark, and lustrous eyes. When, by +accident, she turned aside, and he saw the outline of that clear, +olive-complexioned face, only broken by the outward curve of the long +black lashes, he had to confess to himself that, adventuress or no +adventuress, prophetess or no prophetess, Natalie Lind was possessed of +about the most beautiful profile he had ever beheld, while she had the +air and the bearing of a queen. + +Her father and he talked of the various trifling things of the moment; +but what he was chiefly thinking of was the singular calm and +self-possession of this young girl. When she spoke, her dark, soft eyes +regarded him without fear. Her manner was simple and natural to the last +degree; perhaps with the least touch added of maidenly reserve. He was +forced even to admire the simplicity of her dress--cream or canary white +it was, with a bit of white fur round the neck and round the tight +wrists. The only strong color was that of the scarlet geraniums which +she wore in her bosom, and in the splendid masses of her hair; and the +vertical sharp line of scarlet of her closed fan. + +Once only, during this interval of waiting, did he find that calm +serenity of hers disturbed. He happened to observe the photograph of a +very handsome woman near him on the table. She told him she had had a +parcel of photographs of friends of hers just sent over from Vienna: +some of them very pretty. She went to another table, and brought over a +handful. He glanced at them only a second or two. + +"I see they are mostly from Vienna: are they Austrian ladies?" he asked. + +"They live in Austria, but they are not Austrians," she answered. And +then she added, with a touch of scorn about the beautiful mouth, "Our +friends and we don't belong to the women-floggers!" + +"Natalie!" her father said; but he smiled all the same. + +"I will tell you one of my earliest recollections," she said: "I +remember it very well. Kossuth was carrying me round the room on his +shoulder. I suppose I had been listening to the talk of the gentlemen; +for I said to him, 'When they burned my papa in effigy at Pesth, why was +I not allowed to go and see?' And he said--I remember the sound of his +voice even now--'Little child, you were not born then. But if you had +been able to go, do you know what they would have done to you? They +would have flogged you. Do you not know that the Austrians flog women? +When you grow up, little child, your papa will tell you the story of +Madame von Maderspach.'" Then she added, "That is one of my valued +recollections, that when I was a child I was carried on Kossuth's +shoulders." + +"You have no similar reminiscence of Gorgey, I suppose?" Brand said, +with a smile. + +He had spoken quite inadvertently, without the slightest thought in the +world of wounding her feelings. But he was surprised and shocked by the +extraordinary effect which this chance remark produced on the tall and +beautiful girl standing there; for an instant she paused, as if not +knowing what to say. Then she said proudly, and she turned away as she +did so, + +"Perhaps you are not aware that there are some names you should not +mention in the presence of a Hungarian woman." + +What was there in the tone of the voice that made him rapidly glance at +her eyes, as she turned away, pretending to carry back the photographs? +He was not deceived. Those large dark eyes were full of sudden, +indignant tears; she had not turned quite quickly enough to conceal +them. + +Of course, he instantly and amply apologized for his ignorance and +stupidity; but what he said to himself was, "That child is not acting. +She may be Lind's daughter, after all. Poor thing! she is too beautiful, +and generous, and noble to be made the decoy of a revolutionary +adventurer." + +At this moment Lord Evelyn arrived, throwing a quick glance of inquiry +toward his friend, to see what impression, so far, had been produced. +But the tall, red-bearded Englishman maintained, as the diplomatists +say, an attitude of the strictest reserve. The keen gray eyes were +respectful attentive, courteous--especially when they were turned to +Miss Lind; beyond that, nothing. + +Now they had not been seated at the dinner-table more than a few minutes +before George Brand began to ask himself whether it was really Curzon +Street he was dining in. The oddly furnished room was adorned with +curiosities to which every capital in Europe would seem to have +contributed. The servants, exclusively women, were foreign; the table +glass and decorations were all foreign; the unostentatious little +banquet was distinctly foreign. Why, the very bell that had summoned +them down--what was there in the soft sound of it that had reminded him +of something far away? It was a haunting sound, and he kept puzzling +over the vague association it seemed to call up. At last he frankly +mentioned the matter to Miss Lind, who seemed greatly pleased. + +"Ah, did you like the sound?" she said, in that low and harmonious voice +of hers. "The bell was an invention of my own; shall I show it to you?" + +The Dresden shepherdess, by name Anneli, being despatched into the hall, +presently returned with an object somewhat resembling in shape a +Cheshire cheese, but round at the top, formed of roughly filed metal of +a lustrous yellow-gray. Round the rude square handle surmounting it was +carelessly twisted a bit of old orange silk; other decoration there was +none. + +"Do you see what it is now?" she said. "Only one of the great bells the +people use for the cattle on the Campagna. Where did I get it? Oh, you +know the Piazza Montenara, in Rome, of course? There is a place there +where they sell such things to the country people. You could get one +without difficulty, if you are not afraid of being laughed at as a mad +Englishman. That bit of embroidered ribbon, though, I got in an old shop +in Florence." + +Indeed, what struck him further was, not only the foreign look of the +little room and its belongings, but also the extraordinary familiarity +with foreign cities shown by both Lind and his daughter. As the rambling +conversation went on (the sonorous cattle-bell had been removed by the +rosy-cheeked Anneli), they appeared to be just as much at home in +Madrid, in Munich, in Turin, or Genoa as in London. And it was no vague +and general tourist's knowledge that these two cosmopolitans showed; it +was rather the knowledge of a resident--an intimate acquaintance with +persons, streets, shops, and houses. George Brand was a bit of a +globe-trotter himself, and was entirely interested in this talk about +places and things that he knew. He got to be quite at home with those +people, whose own home seemed to be Europe. Reminiscences, anecdotes +flowed freely on; the dinner passed with unconscious rapidity. Lord +Evelyn was delighted and pleased beyond measure to observe the more than +courteous attention that his friend paid to Natalie Lind. + +But all this while what mention was there of the great and wonderful +organization--a mere far-off glimpse of which had so captured Lord +Evelyn's fervent imagination? Not a word. The sceptic who had come among +them could find nothing either to justify or allay his suspicions. But +it might safely be said that, for the moment at least, his suspicions as +regarded one of those two were dormant. It was difficult to associate +trickery, and conspiracy, and cowardly stabbing, with this beautiful +young Hungarian girl, whose calm, dark eyes were so fearless. It is true +that she appeared very proud-spirited, and generous, and enthusiastic; +and you could cause her cheek to pale whenever you spoke of injury done +to the weak, or the suffering, or the poor. But that was different from +the secret sharpening of poniards. + +Once only was reference made to the various secret associations that are +slowly but eagerly working under the apparent social and political +surface of Europe. Some one mentioned the Nihilists. Thereupon Ferdinand +Lind, in a quiet and matter-of-fact way, without appearing to know +anything of the _personnel_ of the society, and certainly without +expressing any approval of its aims, took occasion to speak of the +extraordinary devotion of those people. + +"There has been nothing like it," said he, "in all the history of what +men have done for a political cause. You may say they are fanatics, +madmen, murderers; that they only provoke further tyranny and +oppression; that their efforts are wholly and solely mischievous. It may +be so; but I speak of the individual and what he is ready to do. The +sacrifice of their own life is taken almost as a matter of course. Each +man knows that for him the end will almost certainly be Siberia or a +public execution; and he accepts it. You will find young men, well-born, +well-educated, who go away from their friends and their native place, +who go into a remote village, and offer to work at the commonest trade, +at apprentices' wages. They settle there; they marry; they preach +nothing but the value of honest work, and extreme sobriety, and respect +for superiors. Then, after some years, when they are regarded as beyond +all suspicion, they begin, cautiously and slowly, to spread abroad +their propaganda--to teach respect rather for human liberty, for +justice, for self-sacrifice, for those passions that prompt a nation to +adventure everything for its freedom. Well, you know the end. The man +may be found out--banished or executed; but the association remains. The +Russians at this moment have no notion how wide-spread and powerful it +is." + +"The head-quarters, are they in Russia itself?" asked Brand, on the +watch for any admission. + +"Who knows?" said the other, absently. "Perhaps there are none." + +"None? Surely there must be some power to say what is to be done, to +enforce obedience?" + +"What if each man finds that in himself?" said Lind, with something of +the air of a dreamer coming over the firm and thoughtful and rugged +face. "It may be a brotherhood. All associations do not need to be +controlled by kings and priests and standing armies." + +"And the end of all this devotion, you say is Siberia or death?" + +"For the man, perhaps; for his work, not. It is not personal gain or +personal safety that a man must have in view if he goes to do battle +against the oppression that has crushed the world for centuries and +centuries. Do you not remember the answer given to the Czar by Michael +Bestoujif when he was condemned? It was only the saying of a peasant; +but it is one of the noblest ever heard in the world. 'I have the power +to pardon you,' said the Czar to him, 'and I would do so if I thought +you would become a faithful subject.' What was the answer? 'Sire,' said +Michael Bestoujif, 'that is our great misfortune, that the Emperor can +do everything, and that there is no law.'" + +"Ah, the brave man!" said Natalie Lind, quickly and passionately, with a +flash of pride in her eyes. "The brave man! If I had a brother, I would +ask him, 'When will you show the courage of Michael Bestoujif?'" + +Lord Evelyn glanced at her with a strange, admiring, proud look. "If she +had a brother!" What else, even with all his admiration and affection +for her, could he hope to be? + +Presently they wandered back into other and lighter subjects; and Brand, +at least, did not notice how the time was flying. When Natalie Lind +rose, and asked her father whether he would have coffee sent into the +smoking-room, or have tea in the drawing-room, Brand was quite +astonished and disappointed to find it so late. He proposed they should +at once go up to the drawing-room; and this was done. + +They had been speaking of musical instruments at dinner; and their host +now brought them some venerable lutes to examine--curiosities only, for +most of the metal strings were broken. Beautiful objects, however, they +were, in inlaid ivory or tortoise-shell and ebony; made, as the various +inscriptions revealed, at Bologna, or Padua, or Venice; and dating, some +of them, as far back as 1474. But in the midst of all this, Brand espied +another instrument on one of the small tables. + +"Miss Lind," said he, with some surprise, "do you play the zither?" + +"Oh yes, Natalie will play you something," her father said, carelessly; +and forthwith the girl sat down to the small table. + +George Brand retired into a corner of the room. He was passionately fond +of zither music. He thought no more about that examination of the lutes. + +"_Do you know one who can play the zither well?_" says the proverb. "_If +so, rejoice, for there are not two in the world._" However that might +be, Natalie Lind could play the zither, as one eager listener soon +discovered. He, in that far corner, could only see the profile of the +girl (just touched with a faint red from the shade of the nearest +candle, as she leaned over the instrument), and the shapely wrists and +fingers as they moved on the metallic strings. But was that what he +really did see when the first low tremulous notes struck the prelude to +one of the old pathetic _Volkslieder_ that many a time he had heard in +the morning, when the fresh wind blew in from the pines; that many a +time he had heard in the evening, when the little blue-eyed Kathchen and +her mother sung together as they sat and knitted on the bench in front +of the inn? Suddenly the air changes. What is this louder tramp? Is it +not the joyous chorus of the home-returning huntsmen; the lads with the +slain roedeer slung round their necks; that stalwart Bavarian keeper +hauling at his mighty black hound; old father Keinitz, with his three +beagles and his ancient breech-loader, hurrying forward to get the first +cool, vast, splendid bath of the clear, white wine? How the young +fellows come swinging along through the dust, their faces ablaze against +the sunset! Listen to the far, hoarse chorus!-- + + "Dann kehr ich von der Haide, + Zur hauslich stillen Freude, + Ein frommer Jagersmann! + Ein frommer Jagersmann! + Halli, hallo! halli, hallo! + Ein frommer Jagersmann!" + +White wine now, and likewise the richer red!--for there is a great +hand-shaking because of the Mr. Englishman's good fortune in having shot +three bucks: and the little Kathchen's eyes grow full, because they have +brought home a gentle-faced hind, likewise cruelly slain. And Kathchen's +mother has whisked inside, and here are the tall schoppen on the table; +and speedily the long, low room is filled with the tobacco-smoke. What! +another song, you thirsty old Keinitz, with the quavering voice? But +there is a lusty chorus to that too; and a great clinking of glasses; +and the Englishman laughs and does his part too, and he has called for +six more schoppen of red.... But hush, now! Have we come out from the +din and the smoke to the cool evening air? What is that one hears afar +in the garden? Surely it is the little Kathchen and her mother singing +together, in beautiful harmony, the old, familiar, tender _Lorelei_! The +zither is a strange instrument--it speaks. And when Natalie Lind, coming +to this air, sung in a low contralto voice an only half-suggested +second, it seemed to those in the room that two women were singing--the +one with a voice low and rich and penetrating, the other voice clear and +sweet like the singing of a young girl. "_Die Luft ist kuhl und es +dunkelt, und ruhig fliesset der Rhein._" Was it, indeed, Kathchen and +her mother? Were they far away in the beautiful pine-land, with the +quiet evening shining red over the green woods, and darkness coming over +the pale streams in the hollows? When Natalie Lind ceased, the elder of +the two guests murmured to himself, "Wonderful! wonderful!" The other +did not speak at all. + +She rested her hands for a moment on the table. + +"Natalushka," said her father, "is that all?" + +"I will not be called Natalushka, papa," said she; but again she bent +her hands over the silver strings. + +And these brighter and gayer airs now--surely they are from the laughing +and light-hearted South? Have we not heard them under the cool shade of +the olive-trees, with the hot sun blazing on the garden-paths of the +Villa Reale; and the children playing; and the band busy with its +dancing _canzoni_, the gay notes drowning the murmur and plash of the +fountains near? Look now!--far beneath the gray shadow of the +olive-trees--the deep blue band of the sea; and there the double-sailed +barca, like a yellow butterfly hovering on the water; and there the +large martingallo, bound for the cloud-like island on the horizon. Are +they singing, then, as they speed over the glancing waves?... "_O dolce +Napoli! O suol beato!_" ... for what can they sing at all, as they leave +us, if they do not sing the pretty, tender, tinkling "Santa Lucia?" + + "Venite all' agile + Barchetta mia! + Santa Lucia! + Santa Lucia!" + +... The notes grow fainter and fainter. Are the tall maidens of Capri +already looking out for the swarthy sailors, that these turn no longer +to the shores they are leaving?... "_O dolce Napoli! O suol beato!_" ... +Fainter and fainter grow the notes on the trembling string, so that you +can scarcely tell them from the cool plashing of the fountains ... +"_Santa Lucia!... Santa Lucia!_".... + +"Natalushka," said her father, laughing, "you must take us to Venice +now." + +The young Hungarian girl rose, and put the zither aside. + +"It is an amusement for the children," she said. + +She went to the piano, which was open, and took down a piece of +music--it was Kucken's "Maid of Judah." Now, hitherto, George Brand had +only heard her murmur a low, harmonious second to one or other of the +airs she had been playing; and he was quite unprepared for the passion +and fervor which her rich, deep, resonant, contralto voice threw into +this wail of indignation and despair. This was the voice of a woman, not +of a girl; and it was with the proud passion of a woman that she seemed +to send this cry to Heaven for reparation, and justice, and revenge. And +surely it was not only of the sorrows of the land of Judah she was +thinking!--it was a wider cry--the cry of the oppressed, and the +suffering, and the heart-broken in every clime-- + + "O blest native land! O fatherland mine! + How long for thy refuge in vain shall I pine?" + +He could have believed there were tears in her eyes just then; but there +were none, he knew, when she came to the fierce piteous appeal that +followed-- + + "Where, where are thy proud sons, so lordly in might? + All mown down and fallen in blood-welling fight! + Thy cities are ruin, thy valleys lie waste, + Their summer enchantment the foe hath erased. + O blest native land! how long shalt decline? + When, when will the Lord cry, 'Revenge, it is Mine!'" + +The zither speaks; but there is a speech beyond that of the zither. The +penetrating vibration of this rich and pathetic voice was a thing not +easily to be forgotten. When the two friends left the house, they found +themselves in the chill darkness of an English night in February. Surely +it must have seemed to them that they had been dwelling for a period in +warmer climes, with gay colors, and warmth, and sweet sounds around +them. They walked for some time in silence. + +"Well," said Lord Evelyn, at last, "what do you think of them?" + +"I don't know," said the other, after a pause. "I am puzzled. How did +you come to know them?" + +"I came to know Lind through a newspaper reporter called O'Halloran. I +should like to introduce you to him too." + +George Brand soon afterward parted from his friend, and walked away down +to his silent rooms over the river. The streets were dark and deserted, +and the air was still; yet there seemed somehow to be a tremulous, +passionate, distant sound in the night. It was no tinkling "Santa Lucia" +dying away over the blue seas in the south. It was no dull, sonorous +bell, suggesting memories of the far Campagna. Was it not rather the +quick, responsive echo that had involuntarily arisen in his own heart, +when he heard Natalie Lind's thrilling voice pour forth that proud and +indignant appeal, + + "When, when will the Lord cry, 'Revenge, it is Mine!'" + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +A STRANGER. + + +Ferdinand Lind was in his study, busy with his morning letters. It was a +nondescript little den, which he also used as library and smoking-room; +its chief feature being a collection of portraits--a most heterogeneous +assortment of engravings, photographs, woodcuts, and terra-cotta busts. +Wherever the book-shelves ceased, these began; and as there were a +great number of them, and as the room was small, Mr. Lind's friends or +historical heroes sometimes came into odd juxtaposition. In any case, +they formed a strange assemblage--Arndt and Korner; Stein; Silvio +Pellico and Karl Sand cheek by jowl; Pestal, Comte, Cromwell, Garibaldi, +Marx, Mazzini, Bem, Kossuth, Lassalle, and many another writer and +fighter. A fine engraving of Napoleon as First Consul was hung over the +mantel-piece, a pipe-rack intervening between it and a fac-simile of the +warrant for the execution of Charles I. + +Something in his correspondence had obviously annoyed the occupant of +this little study. His brows were bent down, and he kept his foot +nervously and impatiently tapping on the floor. When some one knocked, +he said, "Come in!" almost angrily, though he must have known who was +his visitor. + +"Good-morning, papa!" said the tall Hungarian girl, coming into the room +with a light step and a smile of welcome on her face. + +"Good-morning, Natalie!" said he, without looking up. "I am busy this +morning." + +"Oh, but, papa," said she, going over, and stooping down and kissing +him, "you must let me come and thank you for the flowers. They are more +beautiful than ever this time." + +"What flowers?" said he, impatiently. + +"Why," she said, with a look of astonishment, "have you forgotten +already? The flowers you always send for my birthday morning." + +But instantly she changed her tone. + +"Ah! I see. Good little children must not ask where the fairy gifts come +from. There, I will not disturb you, papa." + +She touched his shoulder caressingly as she passed. + +"But thank you again, papa Santa Claus." + +At breakfast, Ferdinand Lind seemed to have entirely recovered his +good-humor. + +"I had forgotten for the moment it was your birthday, Natalie," said he. +"You are quite a grown woman now." + +Nothing, however, was said about the flowers, though the beautiful +basket stood on a side-table, filling the room with its perfume. After +breakfast, Mr. Lind left for his office, his daughter setting about her +domestic duties. + +At twelve o'clock she was ready to go out for her accustomed morning +walk. The pretty little Anneli, her companion on these excursions, was +also ready; and together they set forth. They chatted frankly together +in German--the ordinary relations between mistress and servant never +having been properly established in this case. For one thing, they had +been left to depend on each other's society during many a long evening +in foreign towns, when Mr. Lind was away on his own business. For +another, Natalie Lind had, somehow or other, and quite unaided, arrived +at the daring conclusion that servants were human beings; and she had +been taught to regard human beings as her brothers and sisters, some +more fortunate than others, no doubt, but the least fortunate having the +greatest claim on her. + +"Fraulein," said the little Saxon maid, "it was I myself who took in the +beautiful flowers that came for you this morning." + +"Yes?" + +"Yes, indeed; and I thought it was very strange for a lady to be out so +early in the morning." + +"A lady!" said Natalie Lind, with a quick surprise. "Not dressed all in +black?" + +"Yes, indeed, she was dressed all in black." + +The girl was silent for a second or two. Then she said, with a smile, + +"It is not right for my father to send me a black messenger on my +birthday--it is not a good omen. And it was the same last year when we +were in Paris; the _concierge_ told me. Birthday gifts should come with +a white fairy, you know, Anneli--all silver and bells." + +"Fraulein," said the little German girl, gravely, "I do not think the +lady who came this morning would bring you any ill fortune, for she +spoke with such gentleness when she asked about you." + +"When she asked about me? What was she like, then, this black +messenger?" + +"How could I see, Fraulein?--her veil was so thick. But her hair was +gray; I could see that. And she had a beautiful figure--not quite as +tall as you, Fraulein; I watched her as she went away." + +"I am not sure that it is safe, Anneli, to watch the people whom Santa +Claus sends," the young mistress said, lightly. "However, you have not +told me what the strange lady said to you." + +"That will I now tell you, Fraulein," said the other, with an air of +importance. "Well, when I heard the knock at the door, I went instantly; +I thought it was strange to hear a knock so early, instead of the bell. +Then there was the lady; and she did not ask who lived there, but she +said, 'Miss Lind is not up yet? But then, Fraulein, you must +understand, she did not speak like that, for it was in English, and she +spoke very slowly, as if it was with difficulty. I would have said, +'Will the _gnadige Frau_ be pleased to speak German?' but I was afraid +it might be impertinent for a maid-servant to address a lady so. +Besides, Fraulein, she might have been a French lady, and not able to +understand our German." + +"Quite so, Anneli. Well?" + +"Then I told her I believed you were still in your room. Then she said, +still speaking very slowly, as if it was all learned, 'Will you be so +kind as to put those flowers just outside her room, so that she will get +them when she comes out?' And I said I would do that. Then she said, 'I +hope Miss Lind is very well;' and I said, 'Oh yes.' She stood for a +moment just then, Fraulein, as if not knowing whether to go away or not; +and then she asked again if you were quite well and strong and cheerful, +and again I said, 'Oh yes;' and no sooner had I said that than she put +something into my hand and went away. Would you believe it, Fraulein? it +was a sovereign--an English golden sovereign. And so I ran after her and +said, 'Lady, this is a mistake,' and I offered her the sovereign. That +was right, was it not, Fraulein?" + +"Certainly." + +"Well, she did not speak to me at all this time. I think the poor lady +has less English even than I myself; but she closed my hand over the +sovereign, and then patted me on the arm, and went away. It was then +that I looked after her. I said to myself, 'Well, there is only one lady +that I know who has a more beautiful figure than that--that is my +mistress.' But she was not so tall as you, Fraulein." + +Natalie Lind paid no attention to this adroit piece of flattery on the +part of her little Saxon maid. + +"It is very extraordinary, Anneli," she said, after awhile; then she +added, "I hope the piece of gold you have will not turn to dust and +ashes." + +"Look at it, Fraulein," said Anneli, taking out her purse and producing +a sound and solid English coin, about which there appeared to be no +demonology or witchcraft whatsoever. + +They had by this time got into Park Lane; and here the young mistress's +speculations about the mysterious messenger of Santa Claus were suddenly +cut short by something more immediate and more practical. There was a +small boy of about ten engaged in pulling a wheelbarrow which was +heavily laden with large baskets--probably containing washing; and he +was toiling manfully with a somewhat hopeless task. How he had got so +far it was impossible to say; but now that his strength was exhausted, +he was trying all sorts of ineffectual dodges--even tilting up the +barrow and endeavoring to haul it by the legs--to get the thing along. + +"If I were a man," said Natalie Lind, "I would help that boy." + +Then she stepped from the pavement. + +"Little boy," she said, "where are you taking that barrow?" + +The London _gamin_, always on the watch for sarcasm, stopped and stared +at her. Then he took off his cap and wiped his forehead; it was warm +work, though this was a chill February morning. Finally he said, + +"Well, I'm agoin' to Warrington Crescent, Maida Vale. But if it's when I +am likely to git there--bust me if I know." + +She looked about. There was a good, sturdy specimen of the London loafer +over at the park railings, with both hands up at his mouth, trying to +light his pipe. She went across to him. + +"I will give you half a crown if you will pull that barrow to Warrington +Crescent, Maida Vale." There was no hesitation in her manner; she looked +the loafer fair in the face. + +He instantly took the pipe from his mouth, and made some slouching +attempt at touching his cap. + +"Thank ye, miss. Thank ye kindly"--and away the barrow went, with the +small boy manfully pushing behind. + +The tall, black-eyed Hungarian girl and her rosy-cheeked attendant now +turned into the Park. There were a good many people riding by--fathers +with their daughters, elderly gentlemen very correctly dressed, smart +young men with a little tawny mustache, clear blue eyes, and square +shoulders. + +"Many of those Englishmen are very handsome," said the young mistress, +by chance. + +"Not like the Austrians, Fraulein," said Anneli. + +"The Austrians? What do you know about the Austrians?" said the other, +sharply. + +"When my uncle was ill at Prague, Fraulein," the girl said, "my mother +took me there to see him. We used to go out to the river, and go +half-way over the tall bridge, and then down to the 'Sofien-Insel.' Ah, +the beautiful place!--with the music, and the walks under the trees; and +there we used to see the Austrian officers. These _were_ handsome, with +there beautiful uniforms, and waists like a girl; and the beautiful +gloves they wore, too!--even when they were smoking cigarettes." + +Natalie Lind was apparently thinking of other things. She neither +rebuked nor approved Anneli's speech; though it was hard that the little +Saxon maid should have preferred to the sturdy, white-haired, +fair-skinned warriors of her native land the elegant young gentlemen of +Francis Joseph's army. + +"They are handsome, those Englishmen," Natalie Lind was saying, almost +to herself, "and very rich and brave; but they have no sympathy. All +their fighting for their liberty is over and gone; they cannot believe +there is any oppression now anywhere; and they think that those who wish +to help the sufferers of the world are only discontented and fanatic--a +trouble--an annoyance. And they are hard with the poor people and the +weak; they think it is wrong--that you have done wrong--if you are not +well off and strong like themselves. I wonder if that was really an +English lady who wrote the 'Cry of the Children.'" + +"I beg your pardon, Fraulein." + +"Nothing, Anneli. I was wondering why so rich a nation as the English +should have so many poor people among them--and such miserable poor +people; there is nothing like it in the world." + +They were walking along the broad road leading to the Marble Arch, +between the leafless trees. Suddenly the little Saxon girl exclaimed, in +an excited whisper, + +"Fraulein! Fraulein!" + +"What is it, Anneli?" + +"The lady--the lady who came with the flowers--she is behind us. Yes; I +am sure." + +The girl's mistress glanced quickly round. Some distance behind them +there was certainly a lady dressed altogether in black, who, the moment +she perceived that these two were regarding her, turned aside, and +pretended to pick up something from the grass. + +"Fraulein, Fraulein," said Anneli, eagerly; "let us sit down on this +seat. Do not look at her. She will pass." + +The sudden presence of this stranger, about whom she had been thinking +so much, had somewhat unnerved her; she obeyed this suggestion almost +mechanically; and waited with her heart throbbing. For an instant or two +it seemed as if that dark figure along by the trees were inclined to +turn and leave; but presently Natalie Lind knew rather than saw that +this slender and graceful woman with the black dress and the deep veil +was approaching her. She came nearer; for a second she came closer; some +little white thing was dropped into the girl's lap, and the stranger +passed quickly on. + +"Anneli, Anneli," the young mistress said, "the lady has dropped her +locket! Run with it--quick!" + +"No, Fraulein," said the other, quite as breathlessly, "she meant it for +you. Oh, look, Fraulein!--look at the poor lady--she is crying." + +The sharp eyes of the younger girl were right. Surely that slender +figure was being shaken with sobs as it hurried away and was lost among +the groups coming through the Marble Arch! Natalie Lind sat there as one +stupefied--breathless, silent, trembling. She had not looked at the +locket at all. + +"Anneli," she said, in a low voice, "was that the same lady? Are you +sure?" + +"Certain, Fraulein," said her companion, eagerly. + +"She must be very unhappy," said the girl. "I think, too, she was +crying." + +Then she looked at the trinket that the stranger had dropped into her +lap. It was an old-fashioned silver locket formed in the shape of a +heart, and ornamented with the most delicate filagree work; in the +centre of it was the letter N in old German text. When Natalie Lind +opened it, she found inside only a small piece of paper, on which was +written, in foreign-looking characters, "_From Natalie to Natalushka_." + +"Anneli, she knows my name!" the girl exclaimed. + +"Would you not like to speak to the poor lady, Fraulein?" said the +little German maid, who was very much excited, too. "And do you not +think she is sure to come this way again--to morrow, next day, some +other day? Perhaps she is ill or suffering, or she may have lost some +one whom you resemble--how can one tell?" + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +PIONEERS. + + +Before sitting down to breakfast, on this dim and dreary morning in +February, George Brand went to one of the windows of his sitting-room +and looked abroad on the busy world without. Busy indeed it seemed to +be--the steamers hurrying up and down the river, hansoms whirling along +the Embankment, heavily laden omnibuses chasing each other across +Waterloo Bridge, the underground railway from time to time rumbling +beneath those wintry-looking gardens, and always and everywhere the +ceaseless murmur of a great city. In the midst of all this eager +activity, he was only a spectator. Busy enough the world around him +seemed to be; he alone was idle. + +Well, what had he to look forward to on this dull day, when once he had +finished his breakfast and his newspapers? It had already begun to +drizzle; there was to be no saunter up to the park. He would stroll +along to his club, and say "Good morning" to one or two acquaintances. +Perhaps he would glance at some more newspapers. Perhaps, tired of +reading news that did not interest, and forming opinions never to be +translated into action, he would take refuge in the library. Somehow, +anyhow, he would desperately tide over the morning till lunch-time. + +Luncheon would be a break; but after--? He had not been long enough in +England to become familiar with the whist-set; similarly, he had been +too long abroad to be proficient in English billiards, even if he had +been willing to make either whist or pool the pursuit of his life. As +for afternoon calls and tea-drinking, that may be an interesting +occupation for young gentlemen in search of a wife, but it is too +ghastly a business for one who has no such views. What then? More +newspapers? More tedious lounging in the hushed library? Or how were the +"impracticable hours" to be disposed of before came night and sleep? + +George Brand did not stay to consider that, when a man in the prime of +health and vigor, possessed of an ample fortune, unfettered by anybody's +will but his own, and burdened by neither remorse nor regret, +nevertheless begins to find life a thing too tedious to be borne, there +must be a cause for it. On the contrary, instead of asking himself any +questions, he set about getting through the daily programme with an +Englishman's determination to be prepared for the worst. He walked up to +his club, the Waldegrave, in Pall Mall. In the morning-room there were +only two or three old gentlemen, seated in easy-chairs near the fire, +and grumbling in a loud voice--for apparently one or two were rather +deaf--about the weather. Brand glanced at a few more newspapers. Then a +happy idea occurred to him; he would go up to the smoking-room and smoke +a cigarette. + +In this vast hall of a place there were only two persons--one standing +with his back to the fire, the other lying back in an easy-chair. The +one was a florid, elderly gentleman, who was first cousin to a junior +Lord of the Treasury, and therefore claimed to be a profound authority +on politics, home and foreign. He was a harmless poor devil enough, from +whom a merciful Providence had concealed the fact that his brain-power +was of the smallest. His companion, reclining in the easy-chair, was a +youthful Fine Art Professor; a gelatinous creature, a bundle of languid +affectations, with the added and fluttering self-consciousness of a +school-miss. He was absently assenting to the propositions of the florid +gentleman; but it is probable that his soul was elsewhere. + +These propositions were to the effect that leading articles in a +newspaper were a mere impertinence; that he himself never read such +things; that the business of a newspaper was to supply news; and that an +intelligent Englishman was better capable of forming a judgment on +public affairs than the hacks of a newspaper-office. The intelligent +Englishman then proceeded to deliver his own judgment on the question of +the day, which turned out to be--to Mr. Brand's great surprise--nothing +more nor less than a blundering and inaccurate _resume_ of the opinions +expressed in a leading article in that morning's _Times_. At length this +one-sided conversation between a jackanapes and a jackass became too +intolerable for Brand, who threw away his cigarette, and descended once +more into the hall. + +"A gentleman wishes to see you, sir," said a boy; and at the same moment +he caught sight of Lord Evelyn. + +"Thank God!" he exclaimed, hurrying forward to shake his friend by the +hand. "Come, Evelyn, what are you up to? I can't stand England any +longer; will you take a run with me?--Algiers, Egypt, anywhere you like. +Let us drop down to Dover in the afternoon, and settle it there. Or what +do you say to the Riviera? we should be sure to run against some people +at one or other of the towns. Upon my life, if you had not turned up, I +think I should have cut my throat before lunch-time." + +"I have got something better for you to do than that," said the other; +"I want you to see O'Halloran. Come along; I have a hansom here. We +shall just catch him at Atkinson's, the book-shop, you know." + +"Very well; all right," Brand said, briskly: this seemed to be rather a +more cheerful business than cutting one's throat. + +"He's at his telegraph-wire all night," Lord Evelyn said, in the hansom. +"Then he lies down for a few hours' sleep on a sofa. Then he goes along +to his rooms in Pimlico for breakfast; but at Atkinson's he generally +stops for awhile on his way, to have his morning drink." + +"Oh, is that the sort of person?" + +"Don't make any mistake. O'Halloran may be eccentric in his ways of +living, but he is one of the most remarkable men I have ever run +against. His knowledge, his reading--politics, philosophy, everything, +in short--the brilliancy of his talking when he gets excited, even the +extraordinary variety of his personal acquaintance--why, there is +nothing going on that he does not know about." + +"But why has this Hibernian genius done nothing at all?" + +"Why? You might as well try to kindle a fire with a flash of lightning. +He has more political knowledge and more power of brilliant writing than +half the editors in London put together; but he would ruin any paper in +twenty-four hours. His first object would probably be to frighten his +readers out of their wits by some monstrous paradox; his next to show +them what fools they had been. I don't know how he has been kept on so +long where he is, unless it be that he deals with news only. I believe +he had to be withdrawn from the gallery of the House; he was very +impatient over the prosy members and his remarks about them began to +reach the Speaker's ear too frequently." + +"I gather, then, that he is merely a clever, idle, Irish vagabond, who +drinks." + +"He does not drink. And as for his Irish name I suppose he must be Irish +either by descent or birth; but he is continually abusing Ireland and +the Irish. Probably, however, he would not let anybody else do so." + +Mr. Atkinson's book-shop in the Strand was a somewhat dingy-looking +place, filled with publications mostly of an exceedingly advanced +character. Mr. Atkinson himself claimed to be a bit of a reformer; and +had indeed brought himself, on one or two occasions, within reach of the +law by issuing pamphlets of a somewhat too fearless aim. On this +occasion he was not in the shop; so the two friends passed through, +ascended a dark little stair, and entered a room which smelled strongly +of tobacco-smoke. + +The solitary occupant of this chamber, to whom Brand was immediately +introduced, was a man of about fifty, carelessly if not even shabbily +dressed, with large masses of unkempt hair, and eyes, dark gray, +deep-set, that had very markedly the look of the eyes of a lion. The +face was worn and pallid, but when lit up with excitement it was capable +of much expression; and Mr. O'Halloran, when he did become excited, got +very much excited indeed. He had laid aside his pipe, and was just +finishing his gin and soda-water, taken from Mr. Atkinson's private +store. + +However, the lion so seldom roars when it is expected to roar. Instead +of the extraordinary creature whom Lord Evelyn had been describing, +Brand found merely an Irish newspaper-reporter, who was either tired, or +indifferent, or sleepy. They talked about some current topic of the hour +for a few minutes; and then Mr. O'Halloran, with a yawn, rose and said +he must go home for breakfast. + +"Stay a bit, O'Halloran," Lord Evelyn said, in despair; "I--I +wanted--the fact is, Mr. Brand has been asking me about Ferdinand +Lind--" + +"Oh," said the bushy-headed man, with a quick glance of scrutiny at the +tall Englishman. "No, no," he added, with a smile, addressing himself +directly to Brand, "it is no use your touching anything of that kind. +You would want to know too much. You would want to have the earth dug +away from over the catacombs before you went below to follow a solitary +guide with a bit of candle. You could never be brought to understand +that the cardinal principle of all secret societies has been that +obedience is an end and aim in itself, and faith the chiefest of all the +virtues. You wouldn't take anything on trust; you have the pure English +temperament." + +Brand laughed, and said nothing. But O'Halloran sat down again, and +began to talk in an idle, hap-hazard sort of fashion of the various +secret societies, religious, social, political that had become known to +the world; and of their aims, and their working, and how they had so +often fallen away into the mere preservation of mummeries, or declared +themselves only by the commission of useless deeds of revenge. + +"Ah," said Brand, eagerly, "that is precisely what I have been urging on +Lord Evelyn. How can you know, in joining such an association, that you +are not becoming the accomplices of men who are merely planning +assassination? And what good can come of that? How are you likely to +gain anything by the dagger? The great social and political changes of +the world come in tides; you can neither retard them nor help them by +sticking pins in the sand." + +"I am not so sure," said the other, doubtfully. "A little wholesome +terrorism has sometimes played its part. The 1868 amnesty to the Poles +in Siberia was not so long after--not more than a year after, I +think--that little business of Berezowski. Faith, what a chance that man +had!" + +"Who?" + +"Berezowski," said he, with an air of contemplation. "The two biggest +scoundrels in the world in one carriage; and he had two shots at them. +Well, well, Orsini succeeded better." + +"Succeeded?" said George Brand. "Do you call that success? He had the +reward that he richly merited, at all events." + +"You do not think he was successful?" he said, calmly. "Then you do not +know how the kingdom of Italy came by its liberty. Who do you think was +the founder of that kingdom of Italy?--which God preserve till it become +something better than a kingdom! Not Cavour, with all his wiliness; not +your Galantuomo, the warrior who wrote up Aspromonte in the face of all +the world as the synonyme for the gratitude of kings; not Garibaldi, +who, in spite of Aspromonte, has become now merely the _concierge_ to +the House of Savoy. The founder of the kingdom of Italy was Felix +Orsini--and whether heaven or hell contains him, I drink his health!" + +He suited the action to the word. Brand looked on, not much impressed. + +"That is all nonsense, O'Halloran!" Lord Evelyn said, bluntly. + +"I tell you," O'Halloran said, with some vehemence, "that the 14th of +January, 1858, kept Louis Napoleon in such a state of tremor, that he +would have done a good deal more than lend his army to Sardinia to sweep +the Austrians out rather than abandon himself to the fate that Cavour +plainly and distinctly indicated. But for the threat of another dose of +Orsini pills, do you think you would ever have heard of Magenta and +Solferino?" + +He seemed to rouse himself a bit now. + +"No," he said, "I do not approve of assassination as a political weapon. +It seldom answers. But it has always been the policy of absolute +governments, and of their allies the priests and the police, to +attribute any murders that might occur to the secret societies, and so +to terrify stupid people. It is one of the commonest slanders in +history. Why, everybody knows how Fouche humbugged the First Napoleon, +and got up vague plots to prove that he, and he alone, knew what was +going on. When Karl Sand killed Kotzebue--oh, of course, that was a fine +excuse for the German kings and princes to have another raid against +free speech, though Sand declared he had nothing in the world to do with +either the Tugendbund or any such society. Who now believes that Young +Italy killed Count Rossi? Rossi was murdered by the agents of the +clericals; it was distinctly proved. But any stick is good enough to +beat a dog with. No matter what the slander is, so long as you can get +up a charge, either for the imprisoning of a dangerous enemy or for +terrifying the public mind. You yourself, Mr. Brand--I can see that your +only notion of the innumerable secret societies now in Europe is that +they will probably assassinate people. That's what they said about the +Carbonari too. The objects of the Carbonari were plain as plain could +be; but no sooner had General Pepe kicked out Ferdinand and put in a +constitutional monarch, than Austria must needs attribute every murder +that was committed, to those detestable Carbonari, so that she should +call upon Prussia and Russia to join her in strangling the infant +liberties of Europe. You see, we can't get at those Royal slanderers. We +can get at a man like Sir James Graham, when we force him to apologize +in the House of Commons for having said that Mazzini instigated the +assassination of the spies Emiliani and Lazzareschi."' + +"But, good heavens!" exclaimed Brand, "does anybody doubt that that was +a political double murder?" + +O'Halloran shrugged his shoulders, and smiled. + +"You may call it murder if you like; others might call it a fitting +punishment. But all I was asking you to do was to remove from your mind +that bugbear that the autocratic governments of Europe have created for +their own uses. No secret society--if you except those Nihilists, who +appear to have gone mad altogether--I say, no secret society of the +present day recognizes political assassination as a normal or desirable +weapon; though it may have to be resorted to in extreme cases. You, as +an individual, might, in certain circumstances, lawfully kill a man; but +that is neither the custom, nor the object, nor the chief thought of +your life." + +"And are there many of these societies?" Brand asked. + +O'Halloran had carelessly lit himself another pipe. + +"Europe is honey-combed with them. They are growing in secret as rapidly +as some kindred societies are growing in the open. Look at the German +socialists--in 1871 they polled only 120,000 votes; in 1874 they polled +340,000: I imagine that Herr Furst von Bismarck will find some +difficulty in suppressing that Frankenstein monster he coquetted so long +with. Then the Knights of Labor in America: you will hear something of +them by-and-by, or I am mistaken. In secret and in the open alike there +is a vast power growing and growing, increasing in volume and bulk from +hour to hour, from year to year, God only knows in what fashion it will +reveal itself. But you may depend on it that when the spark does spring +out of the cloud--when the clearance of the atmosphere is due--people +will look back on 1688, and 1798, and 1848 as mere playthings. The Great +Revolution is still to come; it may be nearer than some imagine." + +He had grown more earnest, both in his manner and his speech. + +"Well," George Brand said, "timid people may reassure themselves. Where +there are so many societiets, there will be as many different aims. +Some, like the wilder German socialists, will want a general +participation of property; others a demolition of the churches and +crucifixion of the priests; others the establishment of a Universal +Republic. There may be a great deal of powder stored up, but it will all +go off in different directions, in little fireworks." + +A quick light gleamed in those deep-set, lion-like eyes. + +"Very well said!" was the scornful comment. "The Czar himself could not +have expressed his belief, or at least his hope, more neatly. But let me +tell you, sir, that the masses of mankind are not such hopeless idiots +as are some of the feather-headed orators and writers who speak for +them; and that you will appeal to them in vain if you do not appeal to +their sense of justice, and their belief in right, and in the eternal +laws of God. You may have a particular crowd go mad, or a particular +city go mad; but the heart of the people beats true, and if you desire a +great political change, you must appeal to their love of fair and honest +dealing as between man and man. And even if the aims of these societies +are diverse, what then? What would you think, now, if it were possible +to construct a common platform, where certain aims at least could be +accepted by all, and become bonds to unite those who are hoping for +better things all over the earth? That did not occur to you as a +possible thing, perhaps? You have only studied the ways of kings and +governments--each one for itself. 'Come over my boundary, and I will +cleave your head; or, rather, I will send my common people to do it, for +a little blood-letting from time to time is good for that vile and +ignorant body.' But the vile and ignorant body may begin to tire of that +recurrent blood-letting, and might perhaps even say, 'Brother across the +boundary, I have no quarrel with you. You are poor and ignorant like +myself; the travail of the earth lies hard on you; I would rather give +you my hand. If I have any quarrel, surely it is with the tyrants of the +earth, who have kept both you and me enslaved; who have taken away our +children from us; who have left us scarcely bread. How long, O Lord, how +long? We are tired of the reign of Cęsar; we are beaten down with it; +who will help us now to establish the reign of Christ?" + +He rose. Despite the unkempt hair, this man looked quite handsome now, +while this serious look was in his face. Brand began to perceive whence +his friend Evelyn had derived at least some of his inspiration. + +"Meanwhile," O'Halloran said, with a light, scornful laugh, +"Christianity has been of excellent service to Cęsar; it has been the +big policeman of Europe. Do you think these poor wretches would have +been so patient if they had not believed there was some compensation +reserved for them beyond the grave? They would have had Cęsar by the +throat by this time." + +"Then that scheme of co-operation you mentioned," Brand said, somewhat +hastily--for he saw that O'Halloran was about to leave--"that is what +Ferdinand Lind is working at?" + +The other started. + +"I cannot give you any information on that point," said O'Halloran, +gravely. "And I do not think you are likely to get much anywhere if you +are only moved by curiosity, however sympathetic and well-wishing." + +He took up his hat and stick. + +"Good-bye, Mr. Brand," said he; and he looked at him with a kindly look. +"As far as I can judge, you are now in the position of a man at a partly +opened door, half afraid to enter, and too curious to draw back. Well, +my advice to you is--Draw back. Or at least remember this: that before +you enter that room you must be without doubt--_and without fear_." + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +BON VOYAGE! + + +Fear he had none. His life was not so valuable to him that he would have +hesitated about throwing himself into any forlorn-hope, provided that he +was satisfied of the justice of the cause. He had dabbled a little in +philosophy, and not only believed that the ordinary altruistic instincts +of mankind could be traced to a purely utilitarian origin, but also +that, on the same theory, the highest form of personal gratification +might be found in the severest form, of self-sacrifice. He did not pity +a martyr; he envied him. But before the martyr's joy must come the +martyr's faith. Without that enthusiastic belief in the necessity and +nobleness and value of the sacrifice, what could there be but physical +pain and the despair of a useless death? + +But, if he had no fear, he had a superabundance of doubt. He had not all +the pliable, receptive, imaginative nature of his friend, Lord Evelyn. +He had more than the ordinary Englishman's distrust of secrecy. He was +not to be won over by the visions of a St. Simon, the eloquence of a +Fourier, the epigrams of a Proudhon: these were to him but intellectual +playthings, of no practical value. It was, doubtless, a novelty for a +young man brought up as Lord Evelyn had been to associate with a +gin-drinking Irish reporter, and to regard him as the mysterious apostle +of a new creed; Brand only saw in O'Halloran a light-headed, +imaginative, talkative person, as safe to trust to for guidance as a +will-o'-the-wisp. It is true that for the time being he had been +thrilled by the passionate fervor of Natalie Lind's singing; and many a +time since he could have fancied that he heard in the stillness of the +night that pathetic and vibrating appeal-- + + "When, when will the Lord cry, 'Revenge, it is mine?'" + +But he dissociated her from her father's schemes altogether. No doubt +she was moved by the generous enthusiasm of a young girl. She had a +warm, human, sympathetic heart; the cry of the poor and the suffering +appealed to her; and she was confident in the success of projects of +which she had been prudently kept ignorant. This was George Brand's +reading. He would not have Natalie Lind associated with Leicester Square +and a lot of garlic-eating revolutionaries. + +"But who is this man Lind?" he asked, impatiently, of Lord Evelyn. He +had driven up to his friend's house in Clarges Street, had had luncheon +with him, and they were now smoking a cigarette in the library. + +"You mean his nationality?" said his friend, laughing. "That has puzzled +me, too. He seems, at all events, to have had his finger in a good many +pies. He escaped into Turkey with Bem, I know: and he has been +imprisoned in Russia; and once or twice I have heard him refer to the +amnesty that was proclaimed when Louis Napoleon was presented with an +heir. But whether he is Pole, or Jew, or Slav, there is no doubt about +his daughter being a thorough Hungarian." + +"Not the least," said Brand, with decision. "I have seen lots of women +of that type in Pesth, and in Vienna, too: if you are walking in the +Prater you can always tell the Hungarian women as they drive past. But +you rarely see one as beautiful as she is." + +After awhile Lord Evelyn said, + +"This is Natalie's birthday. By-and-by I am going along to Bond Street +to buy some little thing for her." + +"Then she allows you to make her presents?" Brand said, somewhat coldly. + +"She and I are like brother and sister now," said the pale, deformed +lad, without hesitation. "If I were ill, I think she would be glad to +come and look after me." + +"You have already plenty of sisters who would do that.'" + +"By-the-way, they are coming to town next week with my mother. You must +come and dine with us some night, if you are not afraid to face the +chatter of such a lot of girls." + +"Have they seen Miss Lind?" + +"No, not yet." + +"And how will you explain your latest craze to them, Evelyn? They are +very nice girls indeed, you know; but--but--when they set full cry on +you--I suppose some day I shall have to send them a copy of a newspaper +from abroad, with this kind of thing in it: '_Compeared yesterday before +the Correctional Tribunal, Earnest Francis D'Agincourt, Baron Evelyn, +charged with having in his possession two canisters of an explosive +compound and fourteen empty missiles. Further, among the correspondence +of the accused was found--_'" + +"'_A letter from an Englishman named Brand_,'" continued Lord Evelyn, as +he rose and went to the window, "'_apparently written under the +influence of nightmare._' Come, Brand, I see the carriage is below. Will +you drive with me to the jeweller's?" + +"Certainly," said his friend; and at this moment the carriage was +announced. "I suppose it wouldn't do for me to buy the thing? You know I +have more money to spend on trinkets than you have." + +They were very intimate friends indeed. Lord Evelyn only said, with a +smile, + +"I am afraid Natalie wouldn't like it." + +But this choosing of a birthday present was a terrible business. The +jeweller was as other jewellers: his designs were mostly limited to the +representation of two objects--a butterfly for a woman, and a horseshoe +for a man. At last Brand, who had been walking about from time to time, +espied, in a distant case, an object which instantly attracted his +attention. It was a flat piece of wood or board, covered with blue +velvet; and on this had been twined an unknown number of yards of the +beautiful thread-like gold chain common to the jewellers' shop-windows +in Venice. + +"Here you are, Evelyn," Brand said at once. "Why not buy a lot of this +thin chain, and let her make it into any sort of decoration that she +chooses?" + +"It is an ignominious way out of the difficulty," said the other: but he +consented; and yard after yard of the thread-like chain was unrolled. +When allowed to drop together, it seemed to go into no compass at all. + +They went outside. + +"What are you going to do now, Brand?" + +The other was looking cheerless enough. + +"I?" he said, with the slightest possible shrug. "I suppose I must go +down to the club, and yawn away the time till dinner." + +"Then why not come with me? I have a commission or two from my +sisters--one as far out as Notting Hill; but after that we can drive +back through the Park and call on the Linds. I dare say Lind will be +home by that time." + +Lord Evelyn's friend was more than delighted. As they drove from place +to place he was a good deal more talkative than was his wont; and, among +other things, confessed his belief that Ferdinand Lind seemed much too +hard-headed a man to be engaged in mere visionary enterprises. But +somehow the conversation generally came round to Mr. Lind's daughter; +and Brand seemed very anxious to find out to what degree she was +cognizant of her father's schemes. On this point Lord Evelyn knew +nothing. + +At last they arrived at the house in Curzon Street, and found Mr. Lind +just on the point of entering. He stayed to receive them; went up-stairs +with them to the drawing-room, and then begged them to excuse him for a +few minutes. Presently Natalie Lind appeared. + +How this man envied his friend Evelyn the frank, sister-like way in +which she took the little present, and thanked him, for that and his +kind wishes! + +"Ah, do you know," she said, "what a strange birthday gift I had given +me this morning? See!" + +She brought over the old-fashioned silver locket, and told them the +whole story. + +"Is it not strange?" she said. "'_From Natalie to Natalushka_:' that is, +from myself to myself. What can it mean?" + +"Have you not asked your father, then, about his mysterious messenger?" +Brand said. He was always glad to ask this girl a question, for she +looked him so straight in the face with her soft, dark eyes, as she +answered, + +"He has only now come home. I will directly." + +"But why does your father call you Natalushka, Natalie?" asked Lord +Evelyn. + +There was the slightest blush on the pale, clear face. + +"It was a nickname they gave me, I am told, when I was child. They used +to make me angry." + +"And now, if one were to call you Natalushka?" + +"My anger would be too terrible," she said, with a smile. "Papa alone +dares to do that." + +Presently her father came into the room. + +"Oh, papa," said she, "I have discovered who the lady is whom you got to +bring me the flowers. And see! she has given me this strange little +locket. Look at the inscription--'_From Natalie to Natalushka_.'" + +Lind only glanced at the locket. His eyes were fixed on the girl. + +"Where did you see the--the lady?" he asked, coldly. + +"In the Park. But she did not stay a moment, or speak; she hurried on, +and Anneli thought she was crying. I almost think so too. Who was it, +papa? May I speak to her, if I see her again?" + +Mr. Lind turned aside for a moment. Brand, who was narrowly watching +him, was convinced that the man was in a passion of rage. But when he +turned again he was outwardly calm. + +"You will do nothing of the kind, Natalie," he said in measured tones. +"I have warned you before against making indiscriminate acquaintances; +and Anneli, if she is constantly getting such stupidities into her head, +must be sent about her business. I do not wish to hear anything more +about it. Will you ring and ask why tea has not been sent up?" + +The girl silently obeyed. Her father had never spoken to her in this +cold, austere tone before. She sat down at a small table, apart. + +Mr. Lind talked for a minute or two with his guests; then he said, + +"Natalie, you have the zither there; why do you not play us something?" + +She turned to the small instrument, and, after a second or two, played a +few notes: that was all. She rose and said, "I don't think I can play +this afternoon, papa;" and then she left the room. + +Mr. Lind pretended to converse with his guests as before; and tea came +in; but presently he begged to be excused for a moment, and left the +room. George Brand rose, and took a turn or two up and down. + +"It would take very little," he muttered--for his teeth were set--"to +make me throw that fellow out of the window!" + +"What do you mean?" Lord Evelyn said, in great surprise. + +"Didn't you see? She left the room to keep from crying. That miserable +Polish cutthroat--I should like to kick him down-stairs!" + +But at this moment the door opened, and father and daughter entered, +arm-in-arm. Natalie's face was a little bit flushed, but she was very +gentle and affectionate; they had made up that brief misunderstanding, +obviously. And she had brought in her hand a mob-cap of black satin: +would Lord Evelyn allow her to try the effect of twisting those +beautiful golden threads through it? + +"Natalushka," said her father, with great good-humor, "it is your +birthday. Do you think you could persuade Lord Evelyn and Mr. Brand to +come to your dinner-party?" + +It was then explained to the two gentlemen that on this great +anniversary it was the custom of Mr. Lind, when in London, to take his +daughter to dine at some French or Italian restaurant in Regent Street +or thereabouts. In fact, she liked to play at being abroad for an hour +or two; to see around her foreign faces, and hear foreign tongues. + +"I am afraid you will say that it is very easy to remind yourself of the +Continent," said Mr. Lind, smiling--"that you have only to go to a place +where they give you oily food and bad wine." + +"On the contrary," said Brand, "I should thing it very difficult in +London to imagine yourself in a foreign town; for London is drained. +However, I accept the invitation with pleasure." + +"And I," said Lord Evelyn. "Now, must we be off to dress?" + +"Not at all," said Natalie. "Do you not understand that you are abroad, +and walking into a restaurant to dine? And now I will play you a little +invitation--not to dinner; for you must suppose you have dined--and you +come out on the stairs of the hotel, and step into the black gondola." + +She went along to the small table, and sat down to the zither. There +were a few notes of prelude; and then they heard the beautiful low voice +added to the soft tinkling sounds. What did they vaguely make out from +that melodious murmur of Italian? + + Behold the beautiful night--the wind sleeps drowsily--the silent + shores slumber in the dark: + + "Sul placido elemento + Vien meco a navigar!" + + The soft wind moves--as it stirs among the leaves--it moves and + dies--among the murmur of the water: + + "Lascia l'amico tetto + Vien meco a navigar!" + + Now on the spacious mantle--of the already darkening heavens--see, + oh, the shining wonder--how the white stars tremble: + + "Ai raggi della luna + Vien meco a navigar!" + +Where were they? Surely they have passed out from the darkness of the +narrow canal, and are away on the broad bosom of the lagoon. The Place +of St. Mark is all aglow with its golden points of fire; the yellow +radiance spreads out into the night. And that other wandering mass of +gold--the gondola hung round with lamps, and followed by a dark +procession through the silence of the waters--does not the music come +from thence? Listen, now: + + "Sul l'onde addormentate + Vien meco a navigar!" + +Can they hear the distant chorus, in there at the shore where the people +are walking about in the golden glare of the lamps? + + "Vien meco a navigar! + Vien meco a navigar!" + +Or can some faint echo be carried away out to yonder island, where the +pale blue-white radiance of the moonlight is beginning to touch the tall +dome of San Giorgio? + + "--a navigar! + --a navigar!" + +"It seems to me," said Lord Evelyn, when the girl rose, with a smile on +her face, "that you do not need to go into Regent Street when you want +to imagine yourself abroad." + +Natalie looked at her watch. + +"If you will excuse me, I will go and get ready now." + +Well, they went to the big foreign restaurant; and had a small table all +to themselves, in the midst of the glare, and the heat, and the +indiscriminate Babel of tongues. And, under the guidance of Mr. Brand, +they adventured upon numerous articles of food which were more varied in +there names than in their flavor; and they tasted some of the compounds, +reeking of iris-root, that the Neapolitans call wine, until they fell +back on a flask of Chianti, and were content; and they regarded their +neighbors, and were regarded in turn. In the midst of it all, Mr. Lind, +who had been somewhat preoccupied, said suddenly. + +"Natalie, can you start with me for Leipsic to-morrow afternoon?" + +She was as prompt as a soldier. + +"Yes, papa. Shall I take Anneli or not?" + +"You may if you like." + +After that George Brand seemed to take very little interest in this +heterogeneous banquet: he stared absently at the foreign-looking people, +at the hurrying waiters, at the stout lady behind the bar. Even when Mr. +Lind told his daughter that her black satin mob-cap, with its wonderful +intertwistings of Venetian chain, looked very striking in a mirror +opposite, and when Lord Evelyn eagerly gave his friend the credit of +having selected that birthday gift, he did not seem to pay much heed. +When, after all was over, and he had wished Natalie "_Bon voyage_" at +the door of the brougham, Lord Evelyn said to him, + +"Come along to Clarges Street now and smoke a cigar." + +"No, thanks!" he said. "I think I will stroll down to my rooms now." + +"What is the matter with you, Brand? You have been looking very glum." + +"Well, I have been thinking that London is a depressing sort of a place +for a man to live in who does not know many people. It is very big, and +very empty. I don't think I shall be able to stand it much longer." + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +IN SOLITUDE. + + +A blustering, cold morning in March; the skies lowering, the wind +increasing, and heavy showers being driven up from time to time from the +black and threatening south-west. This was strange weather to make a man +think of going to the seaside; and of all places at the seaside to +Dover, and of all places in Dover to the Lord Warden Hotel, which was +sure to be filled with fear-stricken foreigners, waiting for the sea to +calm. Waters, as he packed the small portmanteau, could not at all +understand this freak on the part of his master. + +"If Lord Evelyn calls, sir," he said at the station, "when shall I say +you will be back?" + +"In a few days, perhaps. I don't know." + +He had a compartment to himself; and away the train went through the wet +and dismal and foggy country, with the rain pouring down the panes of +the carriage. The dismal prospect outside, however, did not matter much +to this solitary traveller. He turned his back to the window, and read +all the way down. + +At Dover the outlook was still more dismal. A dirty, yellow-brown sea +was rolling heavily in, springing white along the Admiralty Pier; gusts +of rain were sweeping along the thoroughfare between the station and the +hotel; in the hotel itself the rooms were occupied by a miscellaneous +collection of dissatisfied folk, who aimlessly read the advertisements +in Bradshaw, or stared through the dripping windows at the yellow waves +outside. This was the condition of affairs when George Brand took up his +residence there. He was quite alone; but he had a sufficiency of books +with him; and so deeply engaged was he with these, that he let the +ordinary coffee-room discussions about the weather pass absolutely +unheeded. + +On the second morning a number of the travellers plucked up heart of +grace and embarked, though the weather was still squally. George Brand +was not in the least interested as to the speculations of those who +remained about the responsibilities of the passage. He drew his chair +toward the fire, and relapsed into his reading. + +This day, however, was varied by his making the acquaintance of a little +old French lady, which he did by means of her two granddaughters, +Josephine, and Veronique. Veronique, having been pushed by Josephine, +stumbled against Mr. Brand's knee, and would inevitably have fallen into +the fireplace had he not caught her. Thereupon the little old lady, +hurrying across the room, and looking very much inclined to box the ears +of both Josephine and Veronique, most profusely apologized, in French, +to monsieur. Monsieur replying in that tongue, said it was of no +consequence whatever. Then madame greatly delighted at finding some one, +not a waiter, to whom she could speak in her own language, continued +the conversation, and very speedily made monsieur the confident of all +her hopes and fears about that terrible business the Channel passage. No +doubt monsieur was also waiting for this dreadful storm to abate? + +Monsieur quickly perceived that so long as this voluble little old +lady--who was as yellow as a frog, and had beady black eyes, but whose +manner was exceedingly charming--chose to attach herself to him, his +pursuit of knowledge was not likely to be attended with much success, so +he shut the book on his finger, and pleasantly said to her, + +"Oh no, madame; I am only waiting here for some friends." + +Madame was greatly alarmed: surely they would not cross in such +frightful weather? Monsieur ventured to think it was not so very bad. +Then the little French lady glanced out at the window, and threw up her +hands, and said with a shudder, + +"Frightful! Truly frightful. What should I do with those two little ones +ill, and myself ill? The sea might sweep them away!" + +Mr. Brand, having observed something of the manners of Josephine and +Veronique, was inwardly of opinion that the sea might be worse employed: +but what he said was-- + +"You could take a deck-cabin, madame." + +Madame again shuddered. + +"Your friends are English, no doubt, monsieur; the English are not so +much afraid of storms." + +"No, madame, they are not English; but I do not think they would let +such a day as this, for example, hinder them. They are not likely, +however, to be on their way back for a day or two. To-morrow I may run +over to Calais, just on the chance of crossing with them again." + +Here was a mad Englishman, to be sure! When people, driven by dire +necessity, had their heart in their mouth at the very notion of +encountering that rough sea, here was a person who thought of crossing +and returning for no reason on earth--a trifling compliment to his +friends--a pleasure excursion--a break in the monotony of the day! + +"And I shall be pleased to look after the little ones, madame," said he, +politely, "if you are going over." + +Madame thanked him very profusely; but assured him that so long as the +weather looked so stormy she could not think of intrusting Josephine and +Veronique to the mercy of the waves. + +Now, if George Brand had little hope of meeting his friends that day, +he acted pretty much as if he were expecting some one. First of all, he +had secured a saloon-carriage in the afternoon mail-train to London--an +unnecessary luxury for a bachelor well accustomed to the hardships of +travel. Then he had managed to procure a handsome bouquet of freshly-cut +flowers. Finally, there was some mysterious arrangement by which fruit, +cakes, tea, and wine were to be ready at a moment's notice in the event +of that saloon-carriage being required. + +Then, as soon as the rumor went through the hotel that the vessel was in +sight, away he went down the pier, with his coat-collar tightly +buttoned, and his hat jammed down. What a toy-looking thing the steamer +was, away out there in the mists or the rain, with the brown line of +smoke stretching back to the horizon! She was tossing and rolling a good +deal among the brown waves: he almost hoped his friends were not on +board. And he wished that all the more when he at length saw the people +clamber up the gangway--a miserable procession of half-drowned folk, +some of them scarcely able to walk. No; his friends were not there. He +returned to the hotel, and to his books. + +But the attentions of Josephine and Veronique had become too pressing; +so he retired from the reading-room, and took refuge in his own room +up-stairs. It fronted the sea. He could hear the long, monotonous, +continuous wash of the waves: from time to time the windows rattled with +the wind. + +He took from his portmanteau another volume from that he had been +reading, and sat down by the window. But he had only read a line or two +when he turned and looked absently out on the sea. Was he trying to +recall, amidst all that confused and murmuring noise, some other sound +that seemed to haunt him? + + "Who is your lady of love, oh ye that pass + Singing?" + +Was he trying to recall that pathetic thrill in his friend Evelyn's +voice which he knew was but the echo of another voice? He had never +heard Natalie Lind read: but he knew that that was how she had read, +when Evelyn's sensitive nature had heard and been permeated by the +strange tremor. And now, as he opened the book again, whose voice was it +he seemed to hear, in the silence of the small room, amidst the low and +constant murmur of the waves? + + "--And ye shall die before your thrones be won. + --Yea, and the changed world and the liberal sun + Shall move and shine with out us, and we lie + Dead; but if she too move on earth and live-- + But if the old world, with all the old irons rent, + Laugh and give thanks, shall we be not content? + Nay, we shall rather live, we shall not die, + Life being so little, and death so good to give. + + * * * * * * * + + "--But ye that might be clothed with all things pleasant, + Ye are foolish that put off the fair soft present, + That clothe yourselves with the cold future air; + When mother and father, and tender sister and brother, + And the old live love that was shall be as ye, + Dust, and no fruit of loving life shall be. + --She shall be yet who is more than all these were, + Than sister or wife or father unto us or mother." + +He turned again to the window, to the driven yellow sea, and the gusts +of rain. Surely there was no voice to be heard from other and farther +shores? + + "--Is this worth life, is this to win for wages? + Lo, the dead mouths of the awful gray-grown ages, + The venerable, in the past that is their prison, + In the outer darkness, in the unopening grave, + Laugh, knowing how many as ye now say have said-- + How many, and all are fallen, are fallen and dead: + Shall ye dead rise, and these dead have not risen? + --Not we but she, who is tender and swift to save. + + "--Are ye not weary, and faint not by the way, + Seeing night by night devoured of day by day, + Seeing hour by hour consumed in sleepless fire? + Sleepless: and ye too, when shall ye too sleep? + --We are weary in heart and head, in hands and feet, + And surely more than all things sleep were sweet, + Than all things save the inexorable desire + Which whoso knoweth shall neither faint nor weep." + +He rose, and walked up and down for a time. What would one not give for +a faith like that? + + "--Is this so sweet that one were fain to follow? + Is this so sure where all men's hopes are hollow, + Even this your dream, that by much tribulation + Ye shall make whole flawed hearts, and bowed necks straight? + --Nay, though our life were blind, our death were fruitless, + Not therefore were the whole world's high hope rootless; + But man to man, nation would turn to nation, + And the old life live, and the old great world be great." + +With such a faith--with that "inexorable desire" burning in the heart +and the brain--surely one could find the answer easy enough to the last +question of the poor creatures who wonder at the way-worn pilgrims, + + "--Pass on then, and pass by us and let us be, + For what light think ye after life to see? + And if the world fare better will ye know? + And if man triumph who shall seek you and say?" + +That he could answer for himself, at any rate. He was not one to put +much store by the fair soft present; and if he were to enter upon any +undertaking such as that he had had but a glimpse of, neither personal +reward nor hope of any immediate success would be the lure. He would be +satisfied to know that his labor or his life had been well spent. But +whence was to come that belief? whence the torch to kindle the sacred +fire? + +The more he read, during these days of waiting, of the books and +pamphlets he had brought with him, the less clear seemed the way before +him. He was struck with admiration when he read of those who had +forfeited life or liberty in this or the other cause; and too often with +despair when he came to analyze their aims. Once or twice, indeed, he +was so moved by the passionate eloquence of some socialist writer that +he was ready to say, "Well, the poor devils have toiled long enough; +give them their turn, let the revolution cost what it may!" And then +immediately afterward: "What! Stir up the unhappy wretches to throw +themselves on the bayonets of the standing armies of Europe? There is no +emancipation for them that way." + +But when he turned from the declamation and the impracticable designs of +this impassioned literature to the vast scheme of co-operation that had +been suggested rather than described to him, there seemed more hope. If +all these various forces that were at work could be directed into one +channel, what might they not accomplish? Weed out the visionary, the +impracticable, the anarchical from their aims; and then what might not +be done by this convergence of all these eager social movements? Lind, +he argued with himself, was not at all a man likely to devote himself to +optimistic dreams. Further than that--and here he was answering a +suspicion that again and again recurred to him--what if, in such a great +social movement, men were to be found who were only playing for their +own hand? That was the case in every such combination. But false or +self-seeking agents neither destroyed the nobleness of the work nor +could defeat it in the end if it were worthy to live. They might try to +make for themselves what use they could of the current, but they too +were swept onward to the sea. + +So he argued, and communed, and doubted, and tried to believe. And all +through it--whether he paced up and down by the sea in the blustering +weather, or strolled away through the town and up the face of the tall +white cliff, or lay awake in the dark night, listening to the rush and +moan of the waves--all through these doubts and questions there was +another and sweeter and clearer sound, that seemed to come from afar-- + + "She shall be yet who is more than all these were, + Than sister or wife or father unto us or mother." + +However loud the sea was at night, that was the sound he heard, clear +and sweet--the sound of a girl's voice, that had joy in it, and faith in +the future, and that spoke to him of what was to be. + +Well, the days passed; and still his friends did not come. He had many +trips across, to while away the time: and had become great friends with +the stout, black-haired French captain. He had conveyed Josephine and +Veronique and their little grandmother safely over, and had made them as +comfortable as was possible under trying circumstances. And always and +every day there were freshly-cut flowers and renewed fruit, and a +re-engaged saloon-carriage waiting for those strangers who did not come; +until both hotel people and railway people began to think Mr. Brand as +mad as the little French lady assured herself he was, when he said he +meant to cross the Channel twice for nothing. + +At last--at last! He had strolled up to the Calais station, and was +standing on the platform when the train came in. But there was no need +for him to glance eagerly up and down at the now opening doors; for who +was this calmly regarding him--or rather regarding him with a smile of +surprise? Despite the big furred cloak and the hood, he knew at once; he +darted forward, lifted the lower latch and opened the door, and gave her +his hand. + +"Oh, how do you do, Mr. Brand?" said she, with a pleasant look of +welcome. "Who could have expected to meet you here?" + +He was confused, embarrassed, bewildered. This voice so strangely +recalled those sounds that had been haunting him for days. He could only +stammer out, + +"I--I happened to be at Dover, and thought I would run over here for a +little bit. How lucky you are--it is such a beautiful day for crossing." + +"That is good news; I must tell papa," said Natalie, cheerfully, as she +turned again to the open door. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +A DISCOVERY. + + +"And you are going over too? And to London also? Oh, that will be very +nice." + +It seemed so strange to hear this voice, that had for days sounded to +him as if it were far away, now quite close, and talking in this +friendly and familiar fashion. Then she had brought the first of the +spring with her. The air had grown quite mild: the day was clear and +shining; even the little harbor there seemed bright and picturesque in +the sun. He had never before considered Calais a very beautiful place. + +And as for her; well, she appeared pleased to have met with this +unexpected companion; and she was very cheerful and talkative as they +went down to the quay, these two together. And whether it was that she +was glad to be relieved from the cramped position of the carriage, or +whether it was that his being taller than she gave countenance to her +height, or whether it was merely that she rejoiced in the sweet air and +the exhilaration of the sunlight, she seemed to walk with even more than +her usual proudness of gait. This circumstance did not escape the eye of +her father, who was immediately behind. + +"Natalie," said he, peevishly, "you are walking as if you wore a sword +by your side." + +She did not seem sorely hurt. + +"'Du Schwert an meiner Linken!'" she said, with a laugh. "It is my +military cloak that makes you think so, papa." + +Why, even this cockle-shell of a steamer looked quite inviting on so +pleasant a morning. And there before them stretched the blue expanse of +the sea, with every wave, and every ripple on every wave, flashing a +line of silver in the sunlight. No sooner were they out of the +yellow-green waters of the harbor than Mr. Brand had his companions +conducted on to the bridge between the paddle-boxes; and the little +crop-haired French boy brought them camp-stools, and their faces were +turned toward England. + +"Ah!" said Natalie, "many a poor wretch has breathed more freely when +at last he found himself looking out for the English shore. Do you +remember old Anton Pepczinski and his solemn toast, papa?" + +She turned to George Brand. + +"He was an old Polish gentleman, who used to come to our house in the +evening, he and a few others of his countrymen, to smoke and play chess. +But always, some time during the evening, he would say, 'Gentlemen, a +Pole is never ungrateful. I call on you to drink this toast: _To the +white chalk-line beyond the sea_!'" And then she added, quickly, "If I +were English, how proud I should be of England!" + +"But why?" he said. + +"Because she has kept liberty alive in Europe," said the girl, proudly; +"because she offers an exile to the oppressed, no matter from whence +they come; because she says to the tyrant, 'No, you cannot follow.' Why, +when even your beer-men your dray-men know how to treat a Haynau, what +must the spirit of the country be? If only those fine fellows could have +caught Windischgratz too!" + +Her father laughed at her vehemence; Brand did not. That strange +vibration in the girl's voice penetrated him to the heart. + +"But then," said he, after a second or two, "I have been amusing myself +for some days back by reading a good deal of political writing, mostly +by foreigners; and if I were to believe what they say, I should take it +that England was the most superstitious, corrupt, enslaved nation on the +face of the earth! What with its reverence for rank, its worship of the +priesthood--oh, I cannot tell you what a frightful country it is!" + +"Who were the writers?" Mr. Lind asked. + +Brand named two or three, and instantly the attention of the others +seemed arrested. + +"Oh, that is the sort of literature you have been reading?" he said, +with a quick glance. + +"I have had some days' idleness." + +"Excuse me," said the other, with a smile; "but I think you might have +spent it better. That kind of literature only leads to disorder and +anarchy. It may have been useful at one time; it is useful no longer. +Enough of ploughing has been done: we want sowing done now--we want +writers who will build up instead of pulling down. Those Nihilists," he +added, almost with a sigh, "are becoming more and more impracticable. +They aim at scarcely anything beyond destruction." + +Here Natalie changed the conversation. This was too bright and +beautiful a day to admit of despondency. + +"I suppose you love the sea, Mr. Brand?" she said. "All Englishmen do. +And yachting--I suppose you go yachting?" + +"I have tried it; but it is too tedious for me," said Brand. "The sort +of yachting I like is in a vessel of five thousand tons, going three +hundred and eighty miles a day. With half a gale of wind in your teeth +in the 'rolling Forties,' then there is some fun." + +"I must go over to the States very soon," Mr. Lind said. + +"Papa!" + +"The worst of it is," her father said, without heeding that exclamation +of protest, "that I have so much to do that can only be done by word of +mouth." + +"I wish I could take the message for you," Brand said, lightly. "When +the weather looks decent, I very often take a run across to New York, +put up for a few days at the Brevoort House, and take the next ship +home. It is very enjoyable, especially if you know the officers. Then +the bagman--I have acquired a positive love for the bagman." + +"The what?" said Natalie. + +"The bagman. The 'commy' his friends call him. The commercial traveller, +don't you know? He is a most capital fellow--full of life and fun, +desperately facetious, delighting in practical jokes: altogether a +wonderful creature. You begin to think you are in another +generation--before England became melancholy--the generation, for +example, that roared over the adventures of Tom and Jerry." + +Natalie did not know who Tom and Jerry were; but that was of little +consequence; for at this moment they began to descry "the white +chalk-line beyond the sea"--the white line of the English coast. And +they went on chatting cheerfully; and the sunlight flashed its diamonds +on the blue waters around them, and the white chalk cliffs became more +distinct. + +"And yet it seems so heartless for one to be going back to idleness," +Natalie Lind said, absently. "Papa works as hard in England as anywhere +else; but what can I do? To think of one going back to peaceful days, +and comfort, and pleasant friends, when others have to go through such +misery, and to fight against such persecution! When Vjera Sassulitch +offered me her hand--" + +She stopped abruptly, with a quick, frightened look, first at George +Brand, then at her father. + +"You need not hesitate, Natalie," her father said, calmly. "Mr. Brand +has given me his word of honor he will reveal nothing he may hear from +us." + +"I do not think you need be afraid," said Brand; but all the same he was +conscious of a keen pang of mortification. He, too, had noticed that +quick look of fright and distrust. What did it mean, then? "_You are +beside us, you are near to us; but you are not of us, you are not with +us._" + +He was silent, and she was silent too. She seemed ashamed of her +indiscretion, and would say nothing further about Vjera Sassulitch. + +"Don't imagine, Mr. Brand," said her father, to break this awkward +silence, "that what Natalie says is true. She is not going to be so idle +as all that. No; she has plenty of hard work before her--at least, I +think it hard work--translating from the German into Polish." + +"I wish I could help," Brand said, in a low voice. "I do not know a word +of Polish." + +"You help?" she said, regarding him with the beautiful dark eyes, that +had a sudden wonder in them. "Would you, if you knew Polish?" + +He met that straight, fearless glance without flinching; and he said +"Yes," while they still looked at each other. Then her eyes fell; and +perhaps there was the slightest flush of embarrassment, or pleasure, on +the pale, handsome face. + +But how quickly her spirits rose! There was no more talk of politics as +they neared England. He described the successive ships to her; he called +her attention to the strings of wild-duck flying up Channel; he named +the various headlands to her. Then, as they got nearer and nearer, the +little Anneli had to be sought out, and the various travelling +impedimenta got together. It did not occur to Mr. Lind or his daughter +as strange that George Brand should be travelling without any luggage +whatever. + +But surely it must have occurred to them as remarkable that a bachelor +should have had a saloon-carriage reserved for himself--unless, indeed, +they reflected that a rich Englishman was capable of any whimsical +extravagance. Then, no sooner had Miss Lind entered this carriage, than +it seemed as though everything she could think of was being brought for +her. Such flowers did not grow in railway-stations--especially in the +month of March. Had the fruit dropped from the telegraph-poles? Cakes, +wine, tea, magazines and newspapers appeared to come without being asked +for. + +"Mr. Brand," said Natalie, "you must be an English Monte Cristo: do you +clap your hands, and the things appear?" + +But a Monte Cristo should never explain. The conjuror who reveals his +mechanism is no longer a conjuror. George Brand only laughed, and said +he hoped Miss Lind would always find people ready to welcome her when +she reached English shores. + +As they rattled along through those shining valleys--the woods and +fields and homesteads all glowing in the afternoon sun--she had put +aside her travelling-cloak and hood, for the air was quite mild. Was it +the drawing off of the hood, or the stir of wind on board the steamer, +that had somewhat disarranged her hair?--at all events, here and there +about her small ear or the shapely neck there was an escaped curl of +raven-black. She had taken off her gloves, too: her hands, somewhat +large, were of a beautiful shape, and transparently white. The magazines +and newspapers received not much attention--except from Mr. Lind, who +said that at last he should see some news neither a week old nor +fictitious. As for these other two, they seemed to find a wonderful lot +to talk about, and all of a profoundly interesting character. With a +sudden shock of disappointment George Brand found that they were almost +into London. + +His hand-bag was at once passed by the custom-house people; and he had +nothing to do but say good-bye. His face was not over-cheerful. + +"Well, it was a lucky meeting," Mr. Lind said. "Natalie ought to thank +you for being so kind to her." + +"Yes; but not here," said the girl, and she turned to him. "Mr. Brand, +people who have travelled so far together should not part so quickly: it +is miserable. Will you not come and spend the evening with us?" + +"Natalie will give us something in the way of an early dinner," said Mr. +Lind, "and then you can make her play the zither for you." + +Well, there was not much hesitation about his accepting. That +drawing-room, with its rose-and-green-shaded candles, was not as other +drawing-rooms in the evening. In that room you could hear the fountains +plashing in the Villa Reale, and the Capri fishermen singing afar, and +the cattle-bells chiming on the Campagna, and the gondolas sending their +soft chorus across the lagoon. When Brand left his bag in the cloak-room +at the station he gave the porter half a crown for carrying thither, +which was unnecessary. Nor was there any hopeless apathy on his face as +he drove away with these two friends through the darkening afternoon, +in the little hired brougham. When they arrived in Curzon Street, he was +even good enough to assist the timid little Anneli to descend from the +box; but this was in order that he might slip a tip into the hand of the +coachman. The coachman scarcely said "Thank you." It was not until +afterward that he discovered he had put half a sovereign into his +breeches-pocket as if it were an ordinary sixpence. + +Natalie Lind came down to dinner in a dress of black velvet, with a +mob-cap of rose-red silk. Round her neck she wore a band of Venetian +silver-work, from the centre of which was suspended the little +old-fashioned locket she had received in Hyde Park. George Brand +remembered the story, and perhaps was a trifle surprised that she should +wear so conspicuously the gift of a stranger. + +She was very friendly, and very cheerful. She did not seem at all +fatigued with her travelling; on the contrary, it was probably the +sea-air and the sunlight that had lent to her cheek a faint flush of +color. But at the end of dinner her father said. + +"Natalushka, if we go into the drawing-room, and listen to music, after +so long a day, we shall all go to sleep. You must come into the +smoking-room with us." + +"Very well, papa." + +"But, Miss Lind," the other gentleman remonstrated, "a velvet +dress--tobacco-smoke--" + +"My dresses must take their chance," said Miss Lind. "I wear them to +please my friends, not to please chance acquaintances who may call +during the day." + +And so they retired to the little den at the end of the passage; and +Natalie handed Mr. Brand a box of cigars to choose from, and got down +from the rack her father's long-stemmed, red-bowled pipe. Then she took +a seat in the corner by the fire, and listened. + +The talk was all about that anarchical literature that Brand had been +devouring down at Dover; and he was surprised to find how little +sympathy Lind had with writing of that kind, though he had to confess +that certain of the writers were personal friends of his own. Natalie +sat silent, listening intently, and staring into the fire. + +At last Brand said, + +"Of course, I had other books. For example, one I see on your shelves +there." He rose, and took down the "Songs before Sunrise." "Miss Lind," +he said, "I am afraid you will laugh at me; but I have been haunted with +the notion that you have been teaching Lord Evelyn how to read poetry, +or that he has been unconsciously imitating you. I heard him repeat some +passages from 'The Pilgrims,' and I was convinced he was reproducing +something he had heard from you. Well--I am almost ashamed to ask you--" + +A touch of embarrassment appeared on the girl's face, and she glanced at +her father. + +"Yes, certainly, Natalie; why not?" + +"Well," she said, lightly, "I cannot read if I am stared at. You must +remain as you are." + +She took the book from him, and passed to the other side of the room, so +that she was behind them both. There was silence for an instant or two +as she turned over the leaves. + +Then the silence was broken; and if Brand was instantly assured that his +surmise was correct, he also knew that here was a more pathetic +cadence--a prouder ring--than any that Lord Evelyn had thrown into the +lines. She read at random--a passage here, a passage there--but always +it seemed to him that the voice was the voice of a herald proclaiming +the new awakening of the world--the evil terrors of the night +departing--the sunlight of liberty and right and justice beginning to +shine over the sea. And these appeals to England! + + "Oh thou, clothed round with raiment of white waves, + Thy brave brows lightening through the gray wet air, + Thou, lulled with sea-sounds of a thousand caves, + And lit with sea-shine to thy inland lair, + Whose freedom clothed the naked souls of slaves + And stripped the muffled souls of tyrants bare, + Oh, by the centuries of thy glorious graves, + By the live light of the earth that was thy care, + Live, thou must not be dead, + Live; let thy armed head + Lift itself up to sunward and the fair + Daylight of time and man, + Thine head republican, + With the same splendor on thine helmless hair + That in his eyes kept up a light + Who on thy glory gazed away their sacred sight." + +The cry there was in this voice! Surely his heart answered, + + "Oh Milton's land, what ails thee to be dead!" + +Was it in this very room, he wondered, that the old Polish refugee was +used to lift up his trembling hand and bid his compatriots drink to "the +white chalk-line beyond the sea?" How could he forget, as he and she +sat together that morning, and gazed across the blue waters to the far +and sunlit line of coast, the light that shone on her face as she said, +"If I were English, how proud I should be of England!" And this England +of her veneration and her love--did it not contain some, at least, who +would answer to her appeal? + +Presently Natalie Lind shut the book and gently laid it down, and stole +out of the room. She was gone only for a few seconds. When she returned, +she had in her hand a volume of sketches, of which she had been speaking +during dinner. + +He did not open this volume at once. On the contrary, he was silent for +a little while; and then he looked up, and addressed Natalie, with a +strange grave smile on his face. + +"I was about to tell your father, Miss Lind, when you came in, that if I +could not translate for you, or carry a message across the Atlantic for +him, he might at least find something else that I can do. At all events, +may I say that I am willing to join you, if I can be of any help at +all?" + +Ferdinand Lind regarded him for a second, and said, quite calmly, + +"It is unnecessary. You have already joined us." + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +A NIGHT IN VENICE. + + +The solitary occupant of this railway-carriage was apparently reading; +but all the same he looked oftener at his watch than at his book. At +length he definitely shut the volume and placed it in his +travelling-bag. Then he let down the carriage-window, and looked out +into the night. + +The heavens were clear and calm; the newly-risen moon was but a thin +crescent of silver; in the south a large planet was shining. All around +him, as it seemed, stretched a vast plain of water, as dark and silent +and serene as the overarching sky. Then, far ahead, he could catch a +glimpse of a pale line stretching across the watery plain--a curve of +the many-arched viaduct along which the train was thundering; and beyond +that again, and low down at the horizon, two or three minute and dusky +points of orange. These lights were the lights of Venice. + +This traveller was not much hampered with luggage. When finally the +train was driven into the glare of the station, and the usual roar and +confusion began, he took his small bag in his hand and rapidly made his +way through the crowd; then out and down the broad stone steps, and into +a gondola. In a couple of minutes he was completely away from all that +glare and bustle and noise; nothing around him but darkness and an +absolute silence. + +The city seemed as the City of the Dead. The tall and sombre buildings +on each side of the water-highway were masses of black--blackest of all +where they showed against the stars. The ear sought in vain for any +sound of human life; there was nothing but the lapping of the water +along the side of the boat, and the slow, monotonous plash of the oar. + +Father and farther into the silence and the darkness; and now here and +there a window, close down to the water, and heavily barred with +rectangular bars of iron, shows a dull red light; but there is no sound, +nor any passing shadow within. The man who is standing by the +hearse-like cabin of the gondola observes and thinks. These black +buildings; the narrow and secret canals; the stillness of the night: are +they not suggestive enough--of revenge, a quick blow, and the silence of +the grave? And now, as the gondola still glides on, there is heard a +slow and distant tolling of bells. The Deed is done, then?--no longer +will the piteous hands be thrust out of the barred window--no longer +will the wild cry for help startle the passer-by in the night-time. And +now again, as the gondola goes on its way, another sound--still more +muffled and indistinct--the sound of a church organ, with the solemn +chanting of voices. Are they praying for the soul of the dead? The sound +becomes more and more distant; the gondola goes on its way. + +The new-comer has no further time for these idle fancies. At the Rialto +bridge he stops the gondola, pays the man, and goes ashore. Then, +rapidly ascending the steps, he crosses the bridge, descends the other +side, and again jumps into a gondola. All this the work of a few +seconds. + +But it was obvious he had been expected. He gave no instructions to the +two men in this second gondola. They instantly went to work, and with a +rapid and powerful stroke sent the boat along--with an occasional +warning cry as they swept by the entrance to one or other of the smaller +canals. Finally, they abruptly left the Grand Canal, close by the Corte +d'Appello, and shot into a narrow opening that seemed little more than a +slit between the buildings. + +Here they had to go more cautiously; the orange light of their lamp +shining as they passed on the empty archways, and on the iron-barred +windows, and slimy steps. And always this strange silence in the dead or +sleeping city, and the monotonous plash of the oars, and the deep low +cry of "Sia premi!" or "Sia stali!" to give warning of their approach. +But, indeed, that warning was unnecessary; they were absolutely alone in +this labyrinth of gloomy water-ways. + +At length they shot beneath a low bridge, and stopped at some steps +immediately beyond. Here one of the men, getting out, proceeded to act +as guide to the stranger. They had not far to go. They passed first of +all into a long, low, and foul-smelling archway, in the middle of which +was a narrow aperture protected by an iron gate. The man lit a candle, +opened the gate, and preceded his companion along a passage and up a +stone staircase. The atmosphere of the place was damp and sickly; the +staircase was not more than three feet in width; the feeble glimmer of +the candle did but little to dispel the darkness. Even that was +withdrawn; for the guide, having knocked thrice at a door, blew out the +candle, and retreated down-stairs. + +"_The night is dark, brother._" + +"_The dawn is near._" + +Instantly the door was thrown open; the dark figure of a man was seen +against the light; he said, "Come in! come in!" and his hand was +outstretched. The stranger seemed greatly surprised. + +"What, you, Calabressa!" he exclaimed. "Your time has not yet expired!" + +"What, no? My faith, I have made it expire!" said the other, airily, and +introducing a rather badly pronounced French word or two into his +Italian. "But come in, come in; take a seat. You are early; you may have +to wait." + +He was an odd-looking person, this tall, thin, elderly man, with the +flowing yellow-white hair and the albino eyes. There was a semi-military +look about his braided coat; but, on the other hand, he wore the cap of +a German student--of purple velvet, with a narrow leather peak. He +seemed to be proud of his appearance. He had a gay manner. + +"Yes, I am escaped. Ah, how fine it is! You walk about all day as you +please; you smoke cigarettes; you have your coffee; you go to look at +the young English ladies who come to feed the pigeons in the place." + +He raised two fingers to his lips, and blew a kiss to all the world. + +"Such complexions! A wild rose in every cheek! But listen, now; this is +not about an English young lady. I go up to the Church of St. +Mark--besides the bronze horses. I am enjoying the air, when I hear a +sound; I turn; over there I see open windows; ah! the figure in the +white dressing-gown! It is the _diva_ herself. They play the _Barbiere_ +to-night, and she is practicing as she dusts her room. _Una voce poco +fa_--it thrills all through the square. She puts the ornaments on the +mantel-piece straight. _Lo giurai, la vincero!_--she goes to the mirror +and makes the most beautiful attitude. Ah, what a spectacle--the black +hair all down--the white dressing-gown--_In sono docile_"--and again he +kissed his two fingers. Then he said, + +"But now, you. You do not look one day older. And how is Natalie?" + +"Natalie is well, I believe," said the other, gravely. + +"You are a strange man. You have not a soft heart for the pretty +creatures of the world; you are implacable. The little Natalushka, then; +how is she?" + +"The little Natalushka is grown big now; she is quite a woman." + +"A woman! She will marry an Englishman, and become very rich: is not +that so?" + +"Natalie--I mean, Natalushka will not marry," said the other coldly. +"She knows she is very useful to me. She knows I have no other." + +"_Maintenant_: the business--how goes that?" + +"Elsewhere, well; in England, not quite so well," said Ferdinand Lind. +"But what can you expect? The English think they have no need of +co-operation, except to get their groceries cheap. Why, everything is +done in the open air there. If a scoundrel gets a lash too many in +prison, you have it before Parliament next week. If a school-boy is +kicked by his master, you have all the newspapers in the country ablaze. +The newspapers govern England. A penny journal has more power than the +commander-in-chief." + +"Then why do you remain in England?" + +"It is the safest for me, personally. Then there is most to be done +there. Again, it is the head-quarters of money. Do you see, Calabressa? +One must have money, or one cannot work." + +The albino-looking man lit a cigarette. + +"You despair, then, of England? No, you never despair." + +"There is a prospect. The Southern Englishman is apathetic; he is +interested only, as I have said, in getting his tea and sugar cheap. +But the Northern Englishman is vigorous. The trades' associations in the +North are vast, powerful, wealthy; but they are suspicious of anything +foreign. Members join us; the associations will not. But what do you +think of this, Calabressa: if one were to have the assistance of an +Englishman whose father was one of the great iron-masters; whose name is +well known in the north; who has a large fortune, and a strong will?" + +"You have got such a man?" + +"Not yet. He is only a Friend. But if I do not misjudge him, he will be +a Companion soon. He is a man after my own heart; once with us, all the +powers of the earth will not turn him back." + +"And his fortune?" + +"He will help us with that also, no doubt." + +"But how did it occur to Providence to furnish you with an assistant so +admirably equipped?" + +"Do you mean how did I chance to find him? Through a young English +lord--an amiable youth, who is a great friend of Natalie's--of +Natalushka's. Why, he has joined us, too--" + +"An English milord!" + +"Yes; but it is merely from poetical sympathy. He is pleasant and +warm-hearted, but to us not valuable; and he is poor." + +At this moment a bell rung, apparently in the adjoining apartment. +Calabressa jumped from his chair, and hastened to a door on his left, +which he opened. A _portiere_ prevented anything being seen in the +chamber beyond. + +"Has the summons been answered?" a voice asked, from the other side. + +"Yes, sir," said Calabressa. "Brother Lind is here." + +"That is well." + +The door was again shut, and Calabressa resumed his seat. + +"Brother Lind," said he, in a low voice, though he leaned back in his +chair, and still preserved that gay manner, "I suppose you do not know +why you have been summoned?" + +"Not I." + +"_Bien._ But suppose one were to guess? Suppose there is a gentleman +somewhere about who has been carrying his outraging of one's common +notions of decency just a little too far? Suppose it is necessary to +make an example? You may be noble, and have great wealth, and honor, and +smiles from beautiful women; but if some night you find a little bit of +steel getting into your heart, or if some morning you find your coffee +as you drink it burn all the way down until you can feel it burn no +more--what then? You must bid good-bye to your mistresses, and to your +gold plates and feasts, and your fountains spouting perfumes, and all +your titles; is not that so?" + +"But who is it?" said Lind, suddenly bending forward. + +The other regarded him for a moment, playfully. + +"What if I were to mention the '_Starving Cardinal_?'" + +"Zaccatelli!" exclaimed Lind, with a ghastly pallor appearing for a +moment in the powerful iron-gray face. + +Calabressa only laughed. + +"Oh yes, it is beautiful to have all these fine things. And the unhappy +devils who are forced to pawn their last sticks of furniture at the +Monte di Pieta, rather than have their children starve when bread is +dear; how it must gratify them to think of his Eminence seizing the +funds of that flourishing institution to buy up the whole of the grain +in the Papal States! What an admirable speculation! How kind to the +poor, on the part of the Secretary to the Vicar of Christ! What!--do you +think because I am a cardinal I am not to make a profit in corn? I tell +you those people have no business to be miserable--they have no business +to go and pawn their things; if I am allowed to speculate with the +funds, why not? _Allons donc!_--It is a devilish fine world, merry +gentlemen!" + +"But--but why have they summoned me?" Lind said, in the same low voice. + +"Who knows?" said the other, lightly. "I do not. Come, tell me more +about the little Natalushka. Ah, do I not remember the little minx, when +she came in, after dinner, among all those men, with her '_Eljen a +haza_!' What has she grown to? what has she become?" + +"Natalie is a good girl," said her father; but he was thinking of other +things. + +"Beautiful?" + +"Some would say so." + +"But not like the English young ladies?" + +"Not at all." + +"I thought not. I remember the black-eyed little one--with her pride in +Batthyany, and her hatred in Gorgey, and all the rest of it. The little +Empress!--with her proud eyes, and her black eyelashes. Do you remember +at Dunkirk, when old Anton Pepczinski met her for the first time? +'_Little Natalushka, if I wait for you, will you marry me when you grow +up?_" Then the quick answer, "_I am not to be called any longer by my +nursery name; but if you will fight for my country, I will marry you +when I grow up._'" + +Light-hearted as this man Calabressa was, having escaped from prison, +and eagerly inclined for chatter, after so long a spell of enforced +silence, he could not fail to perceive that his companion was hardly +listening to him. + +"Mais, mon frere, a quoi bon le regarder?" he said, peevishly. "If it +must come, it will come. Or is it the poor cardinal you pity? That was a +good name they invented for him, anyway--_il cardinale affamatore_." + +Again the bell rung, and Ferdinand Lind started. When he turned to the +door, it was with a look on his face of some anxiety and apprehension--a +look but rarely seen there. Then the _portiere_ was drawn aside to let +some one come through: at the same moment Lind caught a brief glimpse of +a number of men sitting round a small table. + +The person who now appeared, and whom Lind saluted with great respect, +was a little, sallow-complexioned man, with an intensely black beard and +mustache, and a worn expression of face. He returned Lind's salutation +gravely, and said, + +"Brother, the Council thank you for your prompt answer to the summons. +Meanwhile, nothing is decided. You will attend here to-morrow night." + +"At what hour, Brother Granaglia?" + +"Ten. You will now be conveyed back to the Rialto steps; from thence you +can get to your hotel." + +Lind bowed acquiescence; and the stranger passed again through the +_portiere_ and disappeared. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +VACILLATION. + + +"Evelyn, I distrust that man Lind." + +The speaker was George Brand, who kept impatiently pacing up and down +those rooms of his, while his friend, with a dreamy look on the pale and +fine face, lay back in an easy-chair, and gazed out of the clear panes +before him. It was night; the blinds had not been drawn; and the row of +windows, framed by their scarlet curtains, seemed a series of dark-blue +pictures, all throbbing with points of golden fire. + +"Is there any one you do not distrust?" said Lord Evelyn, absently. + +"I hope so. But with regard to Lind: I had distinctly to let him know +he must not assume that I am mixed up in any of his schemes until I +definitely say so. When, in answer to my vague proposal, he told me I +had already pledged myself, I confess I was startled for a moment. Of +course it was all very well for him afterward to speak of my declared +sympathy, and of my promise to reveal nothing, as being quite enough, at +least for the earlier stage. If that is so, you may easily acquire +adherents. But either I join with a definite pledge, or not at all." + +"I am inclined to think you had better not join," said Lord Evelyn, +calmly. + +After that there was silence; and Brand's companion lay and looked on +the picture outside, that was so dark and solemn and still. In the midst +of all that blaze of various and trembling lights was the unseen +river--unseen but for the myriad reflections that showed the ripples of +the water; then the far-reaching rows of golden stars, spanning the +bridges, and marking out the long Embankment sweep beyond St. Thomas's +Hospital. On the other side black masses of houses--all their +commonplace detail lost in the mysterious shadow; and over them the +silver crescent of the moon just strong enough to give an edge of white +to a tall shot-tower. Then far away in the east, in the clear dark sky, +the dim gray ghost of a dome; scarcely visible, and yet revealing its +presence; the great dome of St. Paul's. + +This beautiful, still scene--the silence was so intense that the +footfall of a cab-horse crossing Waterloo Bridge could be faintly heard, +as the eye followed the light slowly moving between the two rows of +golden stars--seemed to possess but little interest for the owner of +these rooms. For the moment he had lost altogether his habitual air of +proud reserve. + +"Evelyn," he said, abruptly, "was it not in these very rooms you +insisted that, if the work was good, one need not be too scrupulous +about one's associates?" + +"I believe so," said the other, indifferently: he had almost lost hope +of ever overcoming his friend's inveterate suspicion. + +"Well," Brand said, "there is something in that. I believe in the work +that Lind is engaged in, if I am doubtful about him. And if it pleases +you or him to say that I have joined you merely because I express +sympathy, and promise to say nothing, well and good. But you: you are +more than that?" + +The question somewhat startled Lord Evelyn; and his pale face flushed a +little. + +"Oh yes," he said; "of course. I--I cannot precisely explain to you." + +"I understand. But, if I did really join, I should at least have you for +a companion." + +Lord Evelyn turned and regarded him. + +"If you were to join, it might be that you and I should never see each +other again in this world. Have I not told you?--Your first pledge is +that of absolute obedience; you have no longer a right to your own life; +you become a slave, that others may be free." + +"And you would have me place myself in the power of a man like Lind?" +Brand exclaimed. + +"If it were necessary," said Lord Evelyn, "I should hold myself +absolutely at the bidding of Lind; for I am convinced he is an honest +man, as he is a man of great ability and unconquerable energy and will. +But you would no more put yourself in Lind's power than in mine. Lind is +a servant, like the rest of us. It is true he has in some ways a sort of +quasi-independent position, which I don't quite understand; but as +regards the Society that I have joined, and that you would join, he is a +servant, as you would be a servant. But what is the use of talking? Your +temperament isn't fitted for this kind of work." + +"I want to see my way clear," Brand said, almost to himself. + +"Ah, that is just it; whereas, you must go blindfold." + +Thereafter again silence. The moon had risen higher now; and the paths +in the Embankment gardens just below them had grown gray in the clearer +light. Lord Evelyn lay and watched the light of a hansom that was +rattling along by the side of the river. + +"Do you remember," said Brand, with a smile, "your repeating some verses +here one night; and my suspecting you had borrowed the inspiration +somewhere? My boy, I have found you out. What I guessed was true. I made +bold to ask Miss Lind to read, that evening I came up with them from +Dover." + +"I know it," said Lord Evelyn, quietly. + +"You have seen her, then?" was the quick question. + +"No; she wrote to me." + +"Oh, she writes to you?" the other said. + +"Well, you see, I did not know her father had gone abroad, and I called. +As a rule, she sees no one while her father is away; on the other hand, +she will not say she is not at home if she is at home. So she wrote me a +note of apology for refusing to see me; and in it she told me you had +been very kind to them, and how she had tried to read, and had read very +badly, because she feared your criticism--" + +"I never heard anything like it!" Brand said; and then he corrected +himself. "Well, yes, I have; I have heard you, Evelyn. You have been an +admirable pupil." + +"Now when I think of it," said his friend, putting his hand in his +breast-pocket, "this letter is mostly about you, Brand. Let me see if +there is anything in it you may not see. No; it is all very nice and +friendly." + +He was about to hand over the letter, when he stopped. + +"I do believe," he said, looking at Brand, "that you are capable of +thinking Natalie wrote this letter on purpose you should see it." + +"Then you do me a great injustice," Brand said, without anger. "And you +do her a great injustice. I do not think it needs any profound judge of +character to see what that girl is." + +"For that is one thing I could never forgive you, Brand." + +"What?" + +"If you were to suspect Natalie Lind." + +This was no private and confidential communication that passed into +Brand's hand, but a frank, gossiping, sisterly note, stretching out +beyond its initial purpose. And there was no doubt at all that it was +mostly about Brand himself; and the reader grew red as he went on. He +had been so kind to them at Dover; and so interested in her papa's work; +and so anxious to be of service and in sympathy with them. And then she +spoke as if he were definitely pledged to them; and how proud she was to +have another added to the list of her friends. George Brand's face was +as red as his beard when he folded up the letter. He did not immediately +return it. + +"What a wonderful woman that is!" said he, after a time. "I did not +think it would be left for a foreigner to teach me to believe in +England." + +Lord Evelyn looked up. + +"Oh," Brand said, instantly, "I know what you would ask: 'What is my +belief worth?' 'How much do I sympathize?' Well, I can give you a plain +answer: a shilling in the pound income-tax. If England is this +stronghold of the liberties of Europe--if it is her business to be the +lamp-bearer of freedom--if she must keep her shores inviolate as the +refuge of those who are oppressed and persecuted, well, then, I would +pay a shilling income-tax, or double that, treble that, to give her a +navy that would sweep the seas. For a big army there is neither +population, nor sustenance, nor room; but I would give her such a navy +as would let her put the world to defiance." + +"I wish Natalie would teach you to believe in a few other things while +she is about it," said his friend, with a slight and rather sad smile. + +"For example?" + +"In human nature a little bit, for example. In the possibility of a +woman being something else than a drawing-room peacock, or worse. Do you +think she could make you believe that it is possible for a woman to be +noble-minded, unselfish, truth-speaking, modest, and loyal-hearted?" + +"I presume you are describing Natalie Lind herself." + +"Oh," said his friend, with a quick surprise, "then you admit there may +be an exception, after all? You do not condemn the whole race of them +now, as being incapable of even understanding what frank dealing is, or +honor, or justice, or anything beyond their own vain and selfish +caprices?" + +George Brand went to the window. + +"Perhaps," said he, "my experience of women has been unfortunate, +unusual. I have not had much chance, especially of late years, of +studying them in their quiet domestic spheres. But otherwise I suppose +my experience is not unusual. Every man begins his life, in his salad +days, by believing the world to be a very fine thing, and women +particularly to be very wonderful creatures--angels, in short, of +goodness, and mercy, and truth, and all the rest of it. Then, judging by +what I have seen and heard, I should say that about nineteen men out of +twenty get a regular facer--just at the most sensitive period of their +life; and then they suddenly believe that women are devils, and the +world a delusion. It is bad logic; but they are not in a mood for +reason. By-and-by the process of recovery begins: with some short, with +others long. But the spring-time of belief, and hope, and rejoicing--I +doubt whether that ever comes back." + +He spoke without any bitterness. If the facts of the world were so, they +had to be accepted. + +"I swallowed my dose of experience a good many years ago," he continued, +"but I haven't got it out of my blood yet. However, I will admit to you +the possibility of there being a few women like Natalie Lind." + +"Well, this is better, at all events," Lord Evelyn said, cheerfully. + +"Beauty, of course, is a dazzling and dangerous thing," Brand said; "for +a man always wants to believe that fine eyes and a sweet voice have a +sweet soul behind them. And very often he finds behind them something in +the shape of a soul that a dog or a cat would be ashamed to own. But as +for Natalie Lind, I don't think one can be deceived. She shows too much. +She vibrates too quickly--too inadvertently--to little chance touches. I +did suspect her, I will confess. I thought she was hired to play the +part of decoy. But I had not seen her for ten minutes before I was +convinced she was playing no part at all." + +"But goodness gracious, Brand, what are we coming to?" Lord Evelyn said, +with a laugh. "What! We already believe in England, and patriotism, and +the love of freedom? And we are prepared to admit that there is one +woman--positively, in the world, one woman--who is not a cheat and a +selfish coquette? Why, where are we to end?" + +"I don't think I said only one woman," Brand replied, quite +good-naturedly; and then he added, with a smile, "You ask where we are +to end. Suppose I were to accept your new religion, Evelyn? Would that +please you? And would it please her, too?" + +"Ah!" said his companion, looking up with a quick glance of pleasure. +But he would argue no more. + +"Perhaps I have been too suspicious. It is a habit; I have had to look +after myself pretty much through the world; and I don't overvalue the +honesty of people I don't know. But when I once set my hand to the work, +I am not likely to draw back." + +"You could be of so much more value to them than I can," said Lord +Evelyn, wistfully. "I don't suppose you spend more than half of your +income." + +"Oh, as to that," said Brand, at once, "that is a very different matter. +If they like to take myself and what I can do, well and good; money is a +very different thing." + +His companion raised himself in his chair; and there was surprise on his +face. + +"How can you help them so well as with your money?" he cried. "Why, it +is the very thing they want most." + +"Oh, indeed!" said Brand, coldly. "You see, Evelyn, my father was a +business man; and I may have inherited a commercial way of looking at +things. If I were to give away a lot of money to unknown people, for +unknown purposes, I should say that I was being duped, and that they +were putting the money in their own pocket." + +"My dear fellow!" Lord Evelyn protested; "the need of money is most +urgent. There are printing-presses to be kept going; agents to be paid; +police-spies to be bribed--there is an enormous work to be done, and +money must be spent." + +"All the same," said Brand, who was invariably most resolved when he was +most quiet in his manner, "I shall prefer not running the chance of +being duped in that direction. Besides, I am bound in honor not to do +anything of the kind. I can fling myself away--this is my own lookout; +and my life, or the way I spend it, is not of great consequence to me. +But my father's property, if anything happens to me, ought to go intact +to my sister's boys, to whom, indeed, I have left it by will. I will say +to Lind, 'Is it myself or my money that is wanted: you must choose.'" + +"The question would be an insult." + +"Oh, do you think so? Very well; I will not ask it. But that is the +understanding." Then he added, more lightly, "Why, would you have the +Pilgrim start with his pocket full of sovereigns? His staff and his +wallet are all he is entitled to. And when one is going to make a big +plunge, shouldn't one strip?" + +There was no answer; for Lord Evelyn's quick ear had caught the sound of +wheels in the adjacent street. + +"There is my trap," he said, looking at his watch as he rose. + +Waters brought the young man his coat, and then went out to light him +down-stairs. + +"Good-night, Brand. Glad to see you are getting into a wholesomer frame +of mind. I shall tell Natalie you are now prepared to admit that there +is in the world at least one woman who is not a cheat." + +"I hope you will not utter a word to Miss Lind of any of the nonsense we +have been talking," said Brand, hastily, and with his face grown red. + +"All right. By-the-way, when are you coming up to see the girls?" + +"To-morrow afternoon: will that do?" + +"Very well; I shall wait in." + +"Let me see if I remember the order aright," said Brand, holding up his +fingers and counting. "Rosalys, Blanche, Ermentrude, Agnes, Jane, +Frances, Geraldine: correct?" + +"Quite. I think their mother must forget at times. Well, good-night." + +"Good-night--good-night!" + +Brand returned to the empty room, and threw wide open one of the +windows. The air was singularly mild for a night in March; but he had +been careful of his friend. Then he dropped into an easy-chair, and +opened a letter. + +It was the letter from Natalie Lind, which he had held in his hand ever +since, eagerly hoping that Evelyn would forget it--as, in fact, he had +done. And now with what a strange interest he read and re-read it; and +weighed all its phrases; and tried to picture her as she wrote these +lines; and studied even the peculiarities of the handwriting. There was +a quaint, foreign look here and there--the capital B, for example, was +written in German fashion; and that letter occurred a good many times. +It was Mr. Brand, and Mr. Brand, over and over again--in this friendly +and frank gossip, which had all the brightness of a chat over a new +acquaintance who interests one. He turned to the signature. "_Your +friend, Natalie._" + +Then he walked up and down, slowly and thoughtfully; but ever and again +he would turn to the letter to see that he had quite accurately +remembered what she had said about the delight of the sail from Calais, +and the beautiful flowers at Dover and her gladness at the prospect of +their having this new associate and friend. Then the handwriting again. +The second stroke of the N in her name had a little notch at the +top--German fashion. It looked a pretty name, as she wrote it. + +Then he went to the window, and leaned on the brass bar, and looked out +on the dark and sleeping world, with its countless golden points of +fire. He remained there a long time, thinking--of the past, in which he +had fancied his life was buried; of the present, with its bewildering +uncertainties; of the future, with its fascinating dreams. There might +be a future for him, then, after all; and hope; and the joy of +companionship? Surely that letter meant at least so much. + +But then the boundlessness, the eager impatience, of human wishes! +Farther and farther, as he leaned and looked out, without seeing much of +the wonderful spectacle before him, went his thoughts and eager hopes +and desires. Companionship; but with whom? And might not the spring-time +of life come back again, as it was now coming back to the world in the +sweet new air that had begun to blow from the South? And what message +did the soft night-wind bring him but the name of Natalie? And Natalie +was written in the clear and shining heavens, in letters of fire and +joy; and the river spoke of Natalie; and the darkness murmured Natalie. + +But his heart, whispering to him--there, in the silence of the night, in +the time when dreams abound, and visions of what may be--his heart, +whispering to him, said--"Natalushka!" + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +A COMMISSION. + + +When Ferdinand Lind looked out the next day from the window of his +hotel, it was not at all the Venice of chromolithography that lay before +him. The morning was wild, gray, and gloomy, with a blustering wind +blowing down from the north; the broad expanse of green water ruffled +and lashed by continual squalls; the sea-gulls wheeling and dipping over +the driven waves; the dingy masses of shipping huddled along the wet and +deserted quays; the long spur of the Lido a thin black line between the +green sea and purple sky; and the domed churches over there, and the +rows of tall and narrow and grumbling palaces overlooking the canals +nearer at hand, all alike dismal and bedraggled and dark. + +When he went outside he shivered; but at all events these cold, damp +odors of the sea and the rainy wind were more grateful than the +mustiness of the hotel. But the deserted look of the place! The +gondolas, with their hearse-like coverings on, lay empty and untended by +the steps, as if waiting for a funeral procession. The men had taken +shelter below the archways, where they formed groups, silent, +uncomfortable, sulky. The few passers-by on the wet quays hurried along +with their voluminous black cloaks wrapped round their shoulders, and +hiding most of the mahogany-colored faces. Even the plague of beggars +had been dispersed; they had slunk away shivering into the foul-smelling +nooks and crannies. There was not a soul to give a handful of maize to +the pigeons in the Place of St. Mark. + +But when Lind had got round into the Place, what was his surprise to +find Calabressa having his breakfast in the open air at a small table in +front of a _cafe_. He was quite alone there; but he seemed much content. +In fact, he was laughing heartily, all to himself, at something he had +been reading in the newspaper open before him. + +"Well," said Lind, when they had exchanged salutations, "this is a +pleasant sort of a morning for one to have one's breakfast outside!" + +"My faith," said Calabressa, "if you had taken as many breakfasts as I +have shut up in a hole, you would be glad to get the chance of a +mouthful of fresh air. Sit down, my friend." + +Lind glanced round, and then sat down. + +"My good friend Calabressa," he said presently, "for one connected as +you are with certain persons, do you not think now that your costume is +a little conspicuous? And then your sitting out here in broad +daylight--" + +"My friend Lind," said he, with a laugh, "I am as safe here as if I were +in Naples, which I believe to be the safest place in the world for one +not in good odor with the authorities. And if there was a risk, would I +not run it to hear my little nightingale over there when she opens the +casements? Ah! she is the most charming Rosina in the world." + +"Yes, yes," said Lind. "I am not speaking of you. But--the others. The +police must guess you are not here for nothing." + +"Oh, the others? Rest assured. The police might as well try to put their +fingers on a globule of quicksilver. It is but three days since they +left the Piazza del Popolo, Torre del Greco. To-morrow, if their +business is finished to-night, they will vanish again; and I shall be +dismissed." + +"If their business is finished?" repeated Lind, absently. "Yes; but I +should like to know why they have summoned me all the way from England. +They cannot mean--" + +"My dear friend Lind," said Calabressa, "you must not look so grave. +Nothing that is going to happen is worth one's troubling one's self +about. It is the present moment that is of consequence; and at the +present moment I have a joke for you. You know Armfeldt, who is now at +Berne: they had tried him only four times in Berlin; and there was only +a little matter of nine years' sentence against him. Listen." + +He took up the _Osservatore_, and read out a paragraph, stating that Dr. +Julius Armfeldt had again been tried _in contumaciam_, and sentenced to +a further term of two years' imprisonment, for seditious writing. +Further, the publisher of his latest pamphlet, a citizen of Berne, had +likewise been sentenced in his absence to twelve months' imprisonment. + +"Do they think Armfeldt will live to be a centenarian, that they keep +heaping up those sentences against him? Or is it as another inducement +for him to go back to his native country and give himself up? It is a +great joke, this childish proceeding; but a Government should not +declare itself impotent. It is like the Austrians when they hanged you +and the others in effigy. Now I remember, the little Natalushka was +grieved that she was not born then; for she wished to see the spectacle, +and to have killed the people who insulted her father." + +"I am afraid it is no joke at all," Lind said, gloomily. "Those Swiss +people are craven. What can you expect from a nation of hotel-waiters? +They cringe before every bully in Europe; you will find that, if +Bismarck insists, the Federal Council will expel Armfeldt from +Switzerland directly. No; the only safe refuge nowadays for the +reformers, the Protestants the pioneers of Europe, is England; and the +English do not know it; they do not think of it. They are so accustomed +to freedom that they believe that is the only possible condition, and +that other nations must necessarily enjoy it. When you talk to them of +tyranny, of political persecution, they laugh. They cannot understand +such a thing existing. They fancy it ceased when Bomba's dungeons were +opened." + +"For my part," said Calabressa, lighting a cigarette, and calling for a +small glass of cognac, "I am content with Naples." + +"And the protection of pickpockets?" + +"My friend," said the other, coolly, "if you refer to the most honorable +the association of the Camorristi, I would advise you not to speak too +loud." + +Calabressa rose, having settled his score with the waiter. + +"Allons!" said he. "What are you going to do to day?" + +"I don't know," said Lind, discontentedly. "May the devil fly away with +this town of Venice! I never come here but it is either freezing or +suffocating." + +"You are in an evil humor to-day, friend Lind; you have caught the +English spleen. Come, I have a little business to do over at Murano; the +breeze will do you good. And I will tell you the story of my escape." + +The time had to be passed somehow. Lind walked with his companion along +to the steps, descended, and jumped into a gondola, and presently they +were shooting out into the turbulent green water that the wind drove +against the side of the boat in a succession of sharp shocks. Seated in +the little funereal compartment, they could talk without much fear of +being heard by either of the men; and Calabressa began his tale. It was +not romantic. It was simply a case of bribery; the money to effect which +had certainly not come out of Calabressa's shallow pockets. In the +midst of the story--or, at least, before the end of it--Lind said, in a +low voice, + +"Calabressa, have you any sure grounds for what you said about +Zaccatelli?" + +His companion glanced quickly outside. + +"It is you are now indiscreet," he said, in an equally low voice. "But +yes; I think that is the business. However," he added, in a gayer tone, +"what matter? To-day is not to-morrow; to-morrow will shift for itself." +And therewith he continued his story, though his listener seemed +singularly preoccupied and thoughtful. + +They arrived at the island, got out, and walked into the court-yard of +one of the smaller glass-works. There were one or two of the workmen +passing; and here something occurred that seemed to arrest Lind's +attention. + +"What, here also?" said he, in a low voice. + +"Every one; the master included. It is with him I have to do this little +piece of business. Now you will be so good as to wait for a short time, +will you not?--and it is warm in there; I will be with you soon." + +Lind walked into the large workshop, where there were a number of people +at work, all round the large, circular, covered caldron, the various +apertures into which sent out fierce rays of light and heat. He walked +about, seemingly at his ease; looking at the apprentices experimenting; +chatting to the workmen. And at last he asked one of these to make for +him a little vase in opalescent glass, that he could take to his +daughter in England; and could he put the letter N on it somewhere? It +was at least some occupation, watching the quick and dexterous handling +under which the little vase grew into form, and had its decoration +cleverly pinched out, and its tiny bits of color added. The letter N was +not very successful; but then Natalie would know that her father had +been thinking of her at Venice. + +This excursion at all events tided over the forenoon; and when the two +companions returned to the wet and disconsolate city, Calabressa was +easily persuaded to join his friend in some sort of mid-day meal. After +that, the long-haired albino-looking person took his leave, having +arranged how Lind was to keep the assignation for that evening. + +The afternoon cleared up somewhat; but Ferdinand Lind seemed to find it +dull enough. He went out for an aimless stroll through some of the +narrow back streets, slowly making his way among the crowd that poured +along these various ways. Then he returned to his hotel, and wrote some +letters. Then he dined early; but still the time did not seem to pass. +He resolved on getting through an hour or so at the theatre. + +A gondola swiftly took him away through the labyrinth of small and +gloomy canals, until at length the wan orange glare shining out into the +night showed him that he was drawing near one of the entrances to the +Fenice. If he had been less preoccupied--less eager to think of nothing +but how to get the slow hours over--he might have noticed the +strangeness of the scene before him: the successive gondolas stealing +silently up through the gloom to the palely lit stone steps; the black +coffins appearing to open; and then figures in white and scarlet +opera-cloaks getting out into the dim light, to ascend into the +brilliant glare of the theatre staircase. He, too, followed, and got +into the place assigned to him. But this spectacular display failed to +interest him. He turned to the bill, to remind him what he had to see. +The blaze of color on the stage--the various combinations of +movement--the resounding music--all seemed part of a dream; and it +annoyed him somehow. He rose and left. + +The intervening time he spent chiefly in a _cafe_ close by the theatre, +where he smoked cigarettes and appeared to read the newspapers. Then he +wandered away to the spot appointed for him to meet a particular +gondola, and arrived there half an hour too soon. But the gondola was +there also. He jumped in and was carried away through the silence of the +night. + +When he arrived at the door, which was opened to him by Calabressa, he +contrived to throw off, by a strong effort of will, any appearance of +anxiety. He entered and sat down, saying only, + +"Well!--what news?" + +Calabressa laughed slightly; and went to a cupboard, and brought forth a +bottle and two small glasses. + +"If you were Zaccatelli," he said, "I would say to you, 'My Lord,' or +'Your Excellency,' or whatever they call those flamingoes with the +bullet heads, 'I would advise you to take a little drop of this very +excellent cognac, for you are about to hear something, and you will need +steady nerves.' Meanwhile, Brother Lind, it is not forbidden to you and +me to have a glass. The Council provide excellent liquor." + +"Thank you, I have no need of it," said Lind, coldly. "What do you mean +about Zaccatelli?" + +"This," said the other, filling himself out a glass of the brandy, and +then proceeding to prepare a cigarette. "If the moral scene of the +country, too long outraged, should determine to punish the Starving +Cardinal, I believe he will get a good year's notice to prepare for his +doom. You perceive? What harm does sudden death to a man? It is nothing. +A moment of pain; and you have all the happiness of sleep, indifference, +forgetfulness. That is no punishment at all: do you perceive?" + +Calabressa continued, airily-- + +"People are proud when they say they do not fear death. The fools! What +has any one to fear in death? To the poor it means no more hunger, no +more imprisonment, no more cold and sickness, no more watching of your +children when they are suffering and you cannot help; to the rich it +means no more triumph of rivals, and envy, and jealousy; no more +sleepless nights and ennui of days; no more gout, and gravel, and the +despair of growing old. Death! It is the great emancipation. And people +talk of the punishment of death!" + +He gave a long whistle of contempt. + +"But," said he, with a smile, "it is a little bit different if you have +to look forward to your death on a certain fixed day. Then you begin to +overvalue things--a single hour of life becomes something." + +He added, in a tone of affected condolence-- + +"Then one wouldn't wish to cause any poor creature to say his last +adieux without some preparation. And in the case of a cardinal, is a +year too little for repentance? Oh, he will put it to excellent use." + +"Very well, very well," said Ferdinand Lind, with an impatient frown +gathering over the shaggy eyebrows. "But I want to know what I have to +do with all this?" + +"Brother Lind," said the other, mildly, "if the Secretary Granaglia, +knowing that I am a friend of yours, is so kind as to give me some hints +of what is under discussion, I listen, but I ask no questions. And +you--I presume you are here not to protest, but to obey." + +"Understand me, Calabressa: it was only to you as a friend that I +spoke," said Lind, gravely. And then he added, "The Council will not +find, at all events, that I am recusant." + +A few minutes afterward the bell rung, and Calabressa jumped to his +feet; while Lind, in spite of himself, started. Presently the _portiere_ +was drawn aside, and the little sallow-complexioned man whom he had seen +on the previous evening entered the room. On this occasion, however, +Calabressa was motioned to withdraw, and immediately did so. Lind and +the stranger were left together. + +"I need scarcely inform you, Brother Lind," said he, in a slow and +matter-of-fact way, "that I am the authorized spokesman of the Council." + +As he said this, for a moment he rested his hand on the table. There was +on the forefinger a large ring, with a red stone in it, engraved. Lind +bowed acquiescence. + +"Calabressa has no doubt informed you of the matter before the Council. +That is now decided; the decree has been signed. Zaccatelli dies within +a year from this day. The motives which have led to this decision may +hereafter be explained to you, even if they have not already occurred to +you; they are motives of policy, as regards ourselves and the progress +of our work, as well as of justice." + +Ferdinand Lind listened, without response. + +"It has further been decided that the blow be struck from England." + +"England!" was the involuntary exclamation. + +"Yes," said the other, calmly. "To give full effect to such a warning it +must be clear to the world that it has nothing to do with any private +revenge or low intrigue. Assassination has been too frequent in Italy of +late. The doubting throughout the world must be convinced that we have +agents everywhere; and that we are no mere local society for the +revenging of private wrongs." + +Lind again bowed assent. + +"Further," said the other, regarding him, "the Council charge you with +the execution of the decree." + +Lind had almost expected this: he did not flinch. + +"After twelve months' grace granted, you will be prepared with a sure +and competent agent who will give effect to the decree of the Council; +failing such a one, the duty will devolve on your own shoulders." + +"On mine!" he was forced to exclaim. "Surely--" + +"Do you forget," said the other, calmly, "that sixteen years ago your +life was forfeited, and given back to you by the Council?" + +"So I understood," said Lind. "But it was not my life that was given me +then!--only the lease of it till the Council should claim it again. +However!" + +He drew himself up, and the powerful face was full of decision. + +"It is well," said he. "I do not complain. If I exact obedience from +others, I, too, obey. The Council shall be served." + +"Further instructions shall be given you. Meanwhile, the Council once +more thank you for your attendance. Farewell, brother!" + +"Farewell, brother!" + +When he had gone, and the bell again rung, Calabressa reappeared. Lind +was too proud a man to betray any concern. + +"It is as you told me, Calabressa," said he, carelessly, as his friend +proceeded to light him down the narrow staircase. "And I am charged with +the execution of their vengeance. Well; I wish I had been present at +their deliberations, that is all. This deed may answer so far as the +continental countries are concerned; but, so far as England is +concerned, it will undo the work of years." + +"What!--England!" exclaimed Calabressa, lightly--"where they blow up a +man's house with gunpowder, or dash vitriol in his face, if he works for +a shilling a day less wages?--where they shoot landlords from behind +hedges if the rent is raised?--where they murder policemen in the open +street, to release political prisoners? No, no, friend Lind; I cannot +believe that." + +"However, that is not my business, Calabressa. The Council shall be +obeyed. I am glad to know you are again at liberty; when you come to +England you will see how your little friend Natalie has grown." + +"Give a kiss from me to the little Natalushka," said he, cheerfully; and +then the two parted. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +JACTA EST ALEA. + + +"Natalie," said her father, entering the breakfast-room, "I have news +for you to-day. This evening Mr. Brand is to be initiated." + +The beautiful, calm face betrayed no surprise. + +"That is always the way," she answered, almost absently. "One after the +other they go in; and I only am left out, alone." + +"What," he said, patting her shoulder as he passed, "are you still +dreaming of reviving the _Giardiniere_? Well, it was a pretty idea to +call each sister in the lodge by the name of a flower. But nowadays, and +in England especially, if women intermeddled in such things, do you know +what they would be called? _Petroleuses!_" + +"Names do not hurt," said the girl, proudly. + +"No, no. Rest content, Natalie. You are initiated far enough. You know +all that needs to be known; and you can work with us, and associate with +us like the rest. But about Brand; are you not pleased?" + +"I am indeed pleased, papa." + +"And I am more than pleased," said Lind, thoughtfully. "He will be the +most important accession we have had for many a day. Ah, you women have +sharp eyes; but there are some things you cannot see--there are some men +whose character you cannot read." + +Natalie glanced up quickly; and her father noticed that surprised look. + +"Well," said he, with a smile, "what now is your opinion of Mr. Brand?" + +Instantly the soft eyes were cast down again, and a faint tinge of color +appeared in her face. + +"Oh, my opinion, papa?" said she, as if to gain time to choose her +words. "Well, I should call him manly, straightforward--and--and very +kind--and--and very English--" + +"I understand you perfectly, Natalie," her father said, with a laugh. +"You and Lord Evelyn are quite in accord. Yes, and you are both +thoroughly mistaken. You mean, by his being so English, that he is +cold, critical, unsympathetic: is it not so? You resent his being +cautious about joining us. You think he will be but a lukewarm +associate--suspecting everything--fearful about going too far--a +half-and-half ally. My dear Natalie, that is because neither Lord +Evelyn nor you know anything at all about that man." + +The faint color in the girl's cheeks had deepened; and she remained +silent, with her face downcast. + +"The pliable ones," her father continued, "the people who are moved by +fine talking, who are full of amiable sentiments, and who take to work +like ours as an additional sentiment--you may initiate a thousand of +them, and not gain an atom of strength. It is a hard head that I want, +and a strong will; a man determined to have no illusions at the outset; +a man who, once pledged, will not despair or give up in the face of +failure, difficulty, or disappointment, or anything else. Brand is such +a man. If I were to be disabled to-morrow, I would rather leave my work +in his hands than in the hands of any man I have seen in this country." + +Was it to hide the deepening color in her face that the girl went round +to her father, and stood rather behind him, and put her hand on his +shoulder, and stooped down to his ear. + +"Papa," said she, "I--I hope you don't think I have been saying anything +against Mr. Brand. Oh no. How could I do that--when he has been so kind +to us--and--and just now especially, when he is about to become one of +us? You must forget what I said about his being English, papa; after +all, it is not for us to say that being English is anything else than +being kind, and generous, and hospitable. And I am exceedingly pleased +that you have got another associate, and that we have got another good +friend, in England." + +"Alors, as Calabressa would say, you can show that you are pleased, +Natalie," her father said, lightly, "by going and writing a pretty +little note, asking your new friend, Mr. Brand, to dine with us +to-night, after the initiation is over, and I will ask Evelyn, if I see +him." + +But this proposal in no wise seemed to lessen the girl's embarrassment. +She still clung about the back of her father's chair. + +"I would rather not do that, papa," said she, after a second. + +"Why? why?" said he. + +"Would it not look less formal for you to ask him, papa? You see, it is +once or twice that we have asked him to dine with us without giving him +proper notice--" + +"Oh, that is nothing--nothing at all. A bachelor with an evening +disengaged is glad enough to fill it up anyhow. Well, if you would +rather not write, Natalie, I will ask him myself." + +"Thank you, papa," said she, apparently much relieved, and therewith she +went back to her seat, and her father turned to his newspaper. + +The day passed, and the evening came. As six o'clock was striking, +George Brand presented himself at the little door in Lisle street, Soho, +and was admitted. Lind had already assured him that, as far as England +was concerned, no idle mummeries were associated with the ceremony of +initiation; to which Brand had calmly replied, that if mummeries were +considered necessary, he was as ready as any one to do his part of the +business. Only he added that he thought the unknown powers had acted +wisely--so far as England was concerned--in discarding such things. + +When he entered the room, his first glance round was reassuring. There +were six persons present besides Lind, and they did not at all suggest +the typical Leicester Square foreigner. On the contrary, he guessed that +four out of the six were either English or Irish; and two of them he +recognized, though they were unknown to him personally. The one was a +Home Rule M.P., ferocious enough in the House of Commons, but celebrated +as the most brilliant, and amiable, and fascinating of diners-out; the +other was an Oxford don, of large fortune and wildly Radical views, who +wrote a good deal in the papers. There was a murmur of conversation +going on, which ceased as Lind briefly introduced the new-comer. + +The ceremony, if ceremony it could be called, was simple enough. The +candidate for admission was required to sign a printed document, +solemnly pledging himself to devote his life, and the labor of his hands +and brain, to the work of the association; to implicitly obey any +command reaching him from the Council, or communicated through an +officer of the first degree; and to preserve inviolable secrecy. Brand +read this paper through twice, and signed it. It was then signed by the +seven witnesses. He was further required to inscribe his signature in a +large volume, which contained a list of members of a particular section. +That done, the six strangers present shook him by the hand, and left. + +He looked round surprised. Had he been dreaming during these brief five +minutes? Yet he could hear the noise of their going down-stairs. + +"Well," said Mr. Lind, with a smile, "it is not a very terrible +ceremony, is it? Did you expect prostrations at the altar; and blindfold +gropings, and the blessing of the dagger? When you come to know a little +more of our organization, of its extent and its power, you will +understand how we can afford to dispense with all those theatrical ways +of frightening people into obedience and secrecy." + +"I expected to find Evelyn here," said George Brand. He was in truth, +just a little bit bewildered as yet. He had been assured that there +would be no foolish mummeries or fantastic rites of initiation; but all +the same he had been much occupied with this step he was about to take; +he had been thinking of it much; he had been looking forward to +something unknown; and he had been nerving himself to encounter whatever +might come before him. But that five minutes of silence; the quick +reading and signing of a paper; the sudden dispersion of the small +assemblage: he could scarcely believe it was all real. + +"No," Lind said, "Lord Evelyn is not yet an officer. He is only a +Companion in the third degree, like yourself." + +"A what?" + +"A Companion in the third degree. Surely you read the document that you +signed?" + +It was still lying on the table before him. He took it up; yes, he +certainly was so designated there. Yet he could not remember seeing the +phrase, though he had, before signing, read every word twice over. + +"And now, Mr. Brand," his companion said, seating himself at the other +side of the table, "when you have got over your surprise that there +should be no ceremony, it will become my duty to give you some +idea--some rough idea--of the mechanism and aims of our association, and +to show you in what measure we are allied with other societies. The +details you will become acquainted with by-and-by; that will be a labor +of time. And you know, of course, or you have guessed, that there are no +mysteries to be revealed to you, no profound religious truths to be +communicated, no dogmas to be accepted. I am afraid we are very +degenerate descendants of the Mystics, and the Illuminati, and all the +rest of them; we have become prosaic; our wants are sadly material. And +yet we have our dreams and aspirations, too; and the virtues that we +exact--obedience, temperance, faith, self-sacrifice--are not ignoble. +Meanwhile, to begin. I think you may prepare yourself to be astonished." + +But astonishment was no word for the emotion experienced by the newly +admitted member when Ferdinand Lind proceeded to give him, with careful +facts and sober computations, some rough outline of the extent and power +of this intricate and far-reaching organization. Hitherto the word +"International" had with him been associated with the ridiculous fiasco +at Geneva; but here was something, not calling itself international, +which aimed at nothing less than knitting together the multitudes of the +nations, not only in Europe, but in the English and French and German +speaking territories beyond the seas, in a solemn league--a league for +self-protection and mutual understanding, for the preservation of +international peace, the spread of knowledge, the outbraving of tyranny, +the defiance of religious intolerance, the relief of the oppressed, the +help of the poor, and the sick, and the weak. This was no cutthroat +conspiracy or wild scheme of confiscation and plunder; but a design for +the establishment of wide and beneficent law--a law which should +protect, not the ambition of kings, not the pride of armies, not the +revenues of priests, but the rights and the liberties of those who were +"darkening in labor and pain." And this message, that could go forth +alike to the Camorristi and the Nihilists; to the Free Masons and the +Good Templars; to the Trades-unionists and the Knights of Labor--to all +those masses of men moved by the spirit of co-operation--"See, brothers, +what we have to show you. Some of you are aiming at chaos and perdition; +others putting wages as their god and sovereign; others content with a +vague philanthropy almost barren of results. This is all the help we +want of you--to pledge yourselves to associate with us, to accept our +modest programme of actual needs, to give help to those who are in want +or trouble, to promise that you will stand by us in the time to come. +And when the time does come; when we are combined; when knowledge is +abroad, and mutual trust, who will say 'yes' if the voice of the people +in every nation murmurs 'No?' What priest will reimpose the Inquisition +on us; what king drive us to shed blood that his robes may have the +richer dye; what policeman in high places endeavor to stamp out our +God-given right of free speech? It is so little for you to grant; it is +so much for you, and for us, to gain!" + +These were not the words he uttered--for Lind spoke English slowly and +carefully--but they were the spirit of his words. And as he went on +describing to this new member what had already been done, what was being +done, and the great possibilities of the future, Brand began to wonder +whether all this gigantic scheme, with its simple, bold, and practical +outlines, were the work of this one man. He ventured by-and-by to hint +at some such question. + +"Mine?" Lind said, frankly, "Ah no! not the inspiration of it. I am only +the mechanic putting brick and brick together; the design is not mine, +nor that of any one man. It is an aggregate project--a speculation +occupying many a long hour of imprisonment--a scheme to be handed from +one to the other, with alterations and suggestions." + +"But even your share of it--how can one man control so much?" Brand +said; for he easily perceived what a mass of detail had to pass through +this man's hands. + +"I will tell you," said the other. "Because every stone added to the +building is placed there for good. There is no looking back. There are +no pacifications of revolt. No questions; but absolute obedience. You +see, we exact so little: why should any one rebel? However, you will +learn more and more as you go on; and soon your work will be appointed +you. Meanwhile, I thank you, brother." + +Lind rose and shook his hand. + +"Now," said he, "that is enough of business. It occurred to me this +morning that, if you had nothing else to do this evening, you might come +and dine with us, and give Natalie the chance of meeting you in your new +character." + +"I shall be most pleased," said Brand; and his face flushed. + +"I telegraphed to Evelyn. If he is in town, perhaps he will join us. +Shall we walk home?" + +"If you like." + +So they went out together into the glare and clamor of the streets. +George Brand's heart was very full with various emotions; but, not to +lose altogether his English character, he preserved a somewhat critical +tone as he talked. + +"Well, Mr. Lind," he said, "so far as I can see and hear, your scheme +has been framed not only with great ability, but also with a studied +moderation and wisdom. The only point I would urge is this--that, in +England, as little as possible should be said about kings and priests. A +great deal of what you said would scarcely be understood here. You see, +in England it is not the Crown nowadays which instigate or insists on +war; it is Parliament and the people. Dynastic ambitions do not trouble +us. There is no reason whatever why we here should hate kings when they +are harmless." + +"You are right; the case is different," Lind admitted. "But that makes +adhesion to our programme all the easier." + +"I was only speaking of the police of mentioning things which might +alarm timid people. Then as for the priests; it may be the interest of +the priests in Ireland to keep the peasantry ignorant; but it is +certainly not so in England. The Church of England fosters education--" + +"Are not your clergymen the bitterest enemies of the School Board +schools?" + +"Well, they may dislike seeing education dissociated from religion--that +is natural, considering what they believe; but they are not necessary +enemies of education. Perhaps I am a very young member to think of +making such a suggestion. But the truth is, that when an ordinary +Englishman hears anything said against kings and priests, he merely +thinks of kings and priests as he knows them--and as being mostly +harmless creatures nowadays--and concludes that you are a Communist +wanting to overturn society altogether." + +"Precisely so. I told Natalie this morning that if she were to be +allowed to join our association her English friends would imagine her to +be _petroleuse_." + +"Miss Lind is not in the association?" Brand said, quickly. + +"As yet no women have been admitted. It is a difficulty; for in some +societies with which we are partly in alliance women are members. Ah, +such noble creatures many of them are, too! However, the question may +come forward by-and-by. In the mean time, Natalie, without being made +aware of what we are actually doing--that, of course, is +forbidden--knows something of what our work must be, and is warm in her +sympathy. She is a good help, too: she is the quickest translator we +have got." + +"Do you think," Brand said, somewhat timidly, but with a frown on his +face, "that it is fair to put such tedious labor on the shoulders of a +young girl? Surely there are enough of men to do the work?" + +"You shall propose that to her yourself," Lind said laughing. + +Well, they arrived at the house in Curzon Street, and, when they went +up-stairs to the drawing-room, they found Lord Evelyn there. Natalie +Lind came forward--with less than usual of her graciously self-possessed +manner--and shook hands with him briefly, and said, with averted look, + +"I am glad to see you, Mr. Brand." + +Now, as her eyes were cast down, it was impossible that she could have +noticed the quick expression of disappointment that crossed his face. +Was it that she herself was instantly conscious of the coldness of her +greeting, and anxious to atone for that? Was it that she plucked up +heart of grace? At all events, she suddenly offered him both her hands +with a frank courage; she looked him in the face with the soft, tender, +serious eyes; and then, before she turned away, the low voice said, + +"Brother, I welcome you!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +SOUTHWARD. + + +After a late, cold, and gloomy spring, a glimpse of early summer shone +over the land; and after a long period of anxious and oftentimes +irritating and disappointing travail--in wet and dismal towns, in +comfortless inns, with associates not always to his liking--George Brand +was hurrying to the South. Ah, the thought of it, as the train whirled +along on this sunlit morning! After the darkness, the light; after +fighting, peace; after the task-work, a smile of reward! No more than +that was his hope; but it was a hope that kept his heart afire and glad +on many a lonely night. + +At length his companion, who had slept steadily on ever since they had +entered the train at Carlisle, at about one in the morning, awoke, +rubbed his eyes, and glanced at the window. + +"We are going to have a fine day at last, Humphreys," said Brand. + +"They have been having better weather in the South, sir." + +The man looked like a well-dressed mechanic. He had an intelligent face, +keen and hard. He spoke with the Newcastle burr. + +"I wish you would not call me 'sir,'" Brand said, impatiently. + +"It comes natural, somehow, sir," said the other, with great simplicity. +"There is not a man in any part of the country, but would say 'sir' to +one of the Brands of Darlington. When Mr. Lind telegraphed to me you +were coming down, I telegraphed back, 'Is he one of the Brands of +Darlington?' and when I got his answer I said to myself, 'Here is the +man to go to the Political Committee of the Trades-union Congress: they +won't fight shy of him.'" + +"Well, we have no great cause to grumble at what has been done in that +direction; but that infernal _Internationale_ is doing a deal of +mischief. There is not a trades-unionist in the country who does not +know what is going on in France. A handful of irresponsible madmen +trying to tack themselves on to the workmen's association--well, surely +the men will have more sense than to listen. The _congres ouvrier_ to +change its name, and to become the _congres revolutionnaire_! When I +first went to Jackson, Molyneux, and the others, I found they had a sort +of suspicion that we wanted to make Communists of them and tear society +to pieces." + +"You have done more in a couple of months, sir, than we all have done in +the last ten years," his companion said. + +"That is impossible. Look at--" + +He named some names, certain of them well known enough. + +The other shook his head. + +"Where we have been they don't believe in London professors, and +speech-makers, and chaps like that. They know that the North is the +backbone and the brain of England, and in the North they want to be +spoken to by a North-countryman." + +"I am a Buckinghamshire man." + +"That may be where you live, sir: but you are one of the Brands of +Darlington," said the other, doggedly. + +By-and-by they entered the huge, resounding station. + +"What are you going to do to-night, Humphreys? Come and have some dinner +with me, and we will look in afterward at the Century." + +Humphreys looked embarrassed for a moment. + +"I was thinking of going to the Coger's Hall, sir," said he, hitting +upon an excuse. "I have heard some good speaking there." + +"Mostly bunkum, isn't it?" + +"No, sir." + +"All right. Then I shall see you to-morrow morning in Lisle Street. +Good-bye." + +He jumped into a hansom, and was presently rattling away through the +busy streets. How sweet and fresh was the air, even here in the midst of +the misty and golden city! The early summer was abroad; there was a +flush of green on the trees in the squares. When he got down to the +Embankment, he was quite surprised by the beauty of the gardens; there +were not many gardens in the towns he had chiefly been living in. + +He dashed up the narrow wooden stairs. + +"Look alive now, Waters: get my bath ready." + +"It is ready, sir." + +"And breakfast!" + +"Whenever you please, sir." + +He took off his dust-smothered travelling-coat, and was about to fling +it on the couch, when he saw lying there two pieces of some brilliant +stuff that were strange to him. + +"What are these things?" + +"They were left, sir, by Mr. ----, of Bond Street, on approval. He will +call this afternoon." + +"Tell him to go to the devil!" said Brand, briefly, as he walked off +into his bedroom. + +Presently he came back. + +"Stay a bit," said he; and he took up the two long strips of +silk-embroidered stuff--Florentine work, probably, of about the end of +the sixteenth century. The ground was a delicate yellowish-gray, with an +initial letter worked in various colors over it. Mr. ----, of Bond +Street, knew that Brand had often amused his idle hours abroad in +picking up things like this, chiefly as presents to lady friends, and +no doubt thought they would be welcome enough, even for bachelors' +rooms. + +"Tell him I will take them." + +"But the price, sir?" + +"Ask him his price; beat him down; and keep the difference." + +After bath and breakfast there was an enormous pile of correspondence +awaiting him; for not a single letter referring to his own affairs had +been forwarded to him for over two months. He had thrown his entire time +and care into his work in the North. And now that these arrears had to +be cleared off, he attacked the business with an obvious impatience. +Formerly he had been used to dawdle over his letters, getting through a +good portion of the forenoon with them and conversations with Waters +about Buckinghamshire news. Now, even with that omniscient factotum by +his side, his progress was slow, simply because he was hurried. He made +dives here and there, without system, without settlement. At last, +looking at his watch, he jumped up; it was half-past eleven. + +"Some other time, Waters--some other time; the man must wait," he said +to the astonished but patient person beside him. "If Lord Evelyn calls, +tell him I shall look in at the Century to-night." + +"Yes, sir." + +Some half-hour thereafter he was standing in Park Lane, his heart +beating somewhat quickly, his eyes fixed eagerly on two figures that +were crossing the thoroughfare lower down to one of the gates leading +into Hyde Park. These were Natalie Lind and the little Anneli. He had +known that he would see her thus; he had imagined the scene a thousand +times; he had pictured to himself every detail--the trees, the tall +railings, the spring flowers in the plots, and the little rosy-cheeked +German girl walking by her mistress's side; and yet, now that this +familiar thing had come true, he trembled to behold it; he breathed +quickly; he could not go forward to her and hold out his hand. Slowly, +for they were walking slowly, he went along to the gate and entered +after them; cautiously, lest she should turn suddenly and confront him +with her eyes; drawn, and yet fearing to follow. She was talking with +some animation to her companion; though even in this profound silence he +could not hear the sound of her voice. But he could see the beautiful +oval of her face! and sometimes, when she turned with a laugh to the +little Anneli, he caught a glimpse of the black eyes and eyelashes, the +smiling lips and brilliant teeth; and once or twice she put out the +palm of her right hand with a little gesture which, despite her English +dress, would have told a stranger that she was of foreign ways. But the +look of welcome, the smile of reward that he had been looking forward +to? + +Well, Mr. Lind was in America; and during his absence his daughter saw +but few visitors. There was no particular reason why, supposing that +George Brand met Natalie in the street, he should not go up and shake +hands with her; and many a time, in these mental pictures of his of her +morning walk with the rosy-cheeked Anneli, he imagined himself +confronting her under the shadow of the trees, and perhaps walking some +way with her, to listen once more to the clear, low vibrations of her +musical voice. But no sooner had he seen her come into Park Lane--the +vision became real--than he felt he could not go up and speak to her. If +he had met her by accident, perhaps he might; but to watch her, to +entrap her, to break in on her wished-for isolation under false +pretences--all that he suddenly felt to be impossible. He could follow +her with his heart; but the sound of her voice, the touch of her hand, +the smile of her calm, beautiful, dark eyes, were as remote for him as +if she, too, were beyond the broad Atlantic. + +He was not much given to introspection and analysis; daring the past two +months more especially he had been far too busy to be perpetually asking +"Why? why?"--the vice of indolence. It was enough that, in the cold and +the wet, there was a fire in his heart that kept him glad with thinking +of the fair days to come; and that, in the foggy afternoons or the +lonely nights when he was alone, and perhaps despondent or impatient +over the stupidity or the contumacy he had had to encounter, there came +to him the soft murmur of a voice from far away--proud, sad, and yet +full of consolation and hope: + + "--But ye that might be clothed with all things pleasant, + Ye are foolish that put off the fair soft present, + That clothe yourself with the cold future air; + When mother and father, and tender sister and brother, + And the old live love that was shall be as ye, + Dust and no fruit of loving life shall be. + --She shall be yet who is more than all these were, + Than sister or wife or father unto us, or mother." + +He could hear her voice: he could see the beautiful face grow pale with +its proud fervor; he could feel the soft touch of her hand when she +came forward and said, "Brother, I welcome you!" + +And now that she was there before him, the gladness in his heart at the +mere sight of her was troubled with a trembling fear and pain. She was +but a stone's-throw in front of him; but she seemed far away. The world +was young around her; and she belonged to the time of youth and of +hope; life, that he had been ready to give up as a useless and aimless +thing, was only opening out before her, full of a thousand beauties, and +wonders, and possibilities. If only he could have taken her hand, and +looked into her eyes, and claimed that smile of welcome, he would have +been nearer to her. Surely, in one thing at least they were in sympathy. +There was a bond between them. If the past had divided them, the future +would bring them more together. Did not the Pilgrims go by in bands, +until death struck down its victims here and there? + +Natalie knew nothing of all this vague longing, and doubt, and pain in +the breast of one who was so near her. She was in a gay mood. The +morning was beautiful; the soft wind after the rain brought whiffs of +scent from the distant rose-red hawthorn. Though she was here under +shadow of the trees, the sun beyond shone on the fresh and moist grass; +and at the end of the glades there were glimpses of brilliant color in +the foliage--the glow of the laburnum, the lilac blaze of the +rhododendron bushes. And how still the place was! Far off there was a +dull roar of carriages in Piccadilly; but here there was nothing but the +bleating of the sheep, the chirp of the young birds, the stir of the +wind among the elms. Sometimes he could now catch the sound of her +voice. + +She was in a gay humor. When she got to the Serpentine--the north bank +was her favorite promenade; she could see on the other side, just below +the line of leaves, the people passing and repassing on horseback; but +she was not of them--she found a number of urchins wading. They had no +boat; but they had the bung of a barrel, which served, and that they +were pushing through the water with twigs and sticks; their shapeless +boots they had left on the bank. Now, as it seemed to Brand, who was +watching from a distance, she planned a scheme. Anneli was seen to go +ahead of the boys, and speak to them. Their attention being thus +distracted, the young mistress stepped rapidly down to the tattered +boots, and dropped something in each. Then she withdrew, and was +rejoined by her maid; they walked away without waiting to see the result +of their machinations. But George Brand, following by-and-by, heard one +of the urchins call out with wonder that he had found a penny in his +shoe; and this extraordinary piece of news brought back his comrades, +who rather mechanically began to examine their footgear too. And then +the amazement!--and the looks around!--and the examination of the pence, +lest that treasure should vanish away! Brand went up to them. + +"Look hear you young stupids; don't you see that tall lady away along +there by the boat-house--why don't you go and thank her?" + +But they were either too shy or too incredulous; so he left them. He did +not forget the incident. + +Perhaps it was that the heavens had grown dark in the southwest, +threatening a shower; but, at all events, Natalie soon returned and set +out on her homeward way, giving this unknown spy some trouble to escape +observation. But when she had passed, he again followed, now with even +greater unrest and pain at his heart. For would not she soon disappear, +and the outer world grow empty, and the dull hours have to be faced? He +had come to London with such hope and gladness; now the very sunlight +was to be taken out of his life by the shutting of a door in Curzon +Street. + +Fate, however, was kinder to him than he had dared to hope. As Natalie +was returning home, he ventured to draw a little nearer to her, but +still with the greatest caution, for he would have been overcome with +shame if she had detected him dogging her footsteps in this aimless, if +innocent manner. And now that she had got close to her own door, he had +drawn nearer still--on the other side of the street; he so longed to +catch one more glimpse of the dark eyes smiling, and the mobile, proud +mouth. But just as the door was being opened from within, a man who had +evidently been watching his chance thrust himself before the two women, +barring their way, and proceeded to address Natalie in a vehement, +gesticulating fashion, with much clinching of his fists and throwing out +of his arms. Anneli had shrunk back a step, for the man was uncouth and +unkempt; but the young mistress stood erect and firm, confronting the +beggar, or madman, or whoever he was, without the slightest sign of +fear. + +This was enough for George Brand. He was not thrusting himself unfairly +on her seclusion if he interposed to protect her from menace. Instantly +he crossed the road. + +"Who are you? What do you want?" This was what he said; but what he did +was to drive the man back a couple of yards. + +A hand was laid on his arm quickly. + +"He is in trouble," Natalie said, calmly. "He wants to see papa; he has +come a long way; he does not understand that papa is in America. If you +could only convince him--But you do not talk Russian." + +"I can talk English," said Brand, regarding the maniac-looking person +before him with angry brows. "Will you go indoors, Miss Lind, and leave +him to me. I will talk an English to him that he will understand." + +"Is that the way you answer an appeal for help?" said she, with gentle +reproof. "The man is in trouble. If I persuade him to go with you, will +you take him to papa's chambers? Either Beratinsky or Heinrich Reitzei +will be there." + +"Reitzei is there." + +"He will hear what this man has to say. Will you be so kind?" + +"I will do anything to rid you of this fellow, who looks more like a +madman than a beggar." + +She stepped forward and spoke to the man again--her voice sounded gentle +and persuasive to Brand, in this tongue which he could not understand. +When she had finished, the uncouth person in the tattered garments +dropped on both knees on the pavement, and took her hand in his, and +kissed it in passionate gratitude. Then he rose, and stood with his cap +in his hand. + +"He will go with you. I am so sorry to trouble you, Mr. Brand; and I +have not even said, 'How do you do?'" + +To hear this beautiful voice after so long a silence--to find those +calm, dark, friendly eyes regarding him--bewildered him, or gave him +courage, he knew not which. He said to her, with a quick flush on his +forehead, + +"May I come back to tell you how I succeed?" + +She only hesitated for a second. + +"If you have time. If you care to take the trouble." + +He carried away with him the look of her face--that filled his heart +with sunlight. In the hansom, into which he bundled his unkempt +companion, if only he had known enough Russian, he would have expressed +gratitude to him. Beggar or maniac, or whatever he was, had he not been +the means of procuring for George Brand that long-coveted, +long-dreamed-of smile of welcome? + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +A RUSSIAN EPISODE. + + +"Is that the way you answer an appeal for help?" With that gentle +protest still lingering in his ear, he was not inclined to be hard on +this unfortunate wretch who was in the cab with him; and yet at the same +time he was resolved to prevent any repetition of the scene he had just +witnessed. At the last he discovered that the man had picked up in his +wanderings a little German. His own German was not first-rate; it was +fluent, forcible, and accurate enough, so far as hotels and +railway-stations were concerned; elsewhere it had a tendency to halt, +blunder, and double back on itself. But, at all events, he managed to +convey to his companion the distinct intimation that any further +troubling of that young lady would only procure for him broken head. + +The dull, stupid, savage-looking face betrayed no sign of intelligence. +He repeated the warning again and again; and at last, at the phrase +"that young lady," the dazed small eyes lit up somewhat, and the man +clasped his hands. + +"Ein Engel!" he said, apparently to himself. "Ein Engel--ein Engel! Ach +Gott--wie schon--wie gemuthlich!" + +"Yes, yes, yes," Brand said, "that is all very well; but one is not +permitted to annoy angels--to trouble them in the street. Do you +understand that that means punishment--one must be punished--if one +returns to the house of that young lady? Do you understand?" + +The man regarded him with the small, deep-set eyes again sunk into +apathy. + +"Ihr Diener, Herr," said he, submissively. + +"You understand you are not to go back to the house of the young lady?" + +"Ihr Diener, Herr." + +There was nothing to be got out of him, or into him; so Brand waited +until he should get help of Heinrich Reitzei, Lind's _locum tenens_. + +Reitzei was in the chambers--at Lind's table, in fact. He was a man of +about twenty-eight or thirty, slim and dark, with a perfectly pallid +face, a small black mustache carefully waxed, and an affectedly +courteous smile. He wore a _pince-nez_; was fond of slang, to show his +familiarity with English; and aimed at an English manner, too. He seemed +bored. He regarded this man whom Brand introduced to him without +surprise, with indifference. + +"Hear what this fellow has to say," Brand said, "will you? and give him +distinctly to understand that if he tries again to see Miss Lind, I will +break his head for him. What idiot could have given him Lind's private +address?" + +The man was standing near the door, stolid apparently, but with his +small eyes keenly watching. Reitzei said a word or two to him. Instantly +he went--he almost sprung--forward; and this movement was so unexpected +that the equanimity of the pallid young man received a visible shock, +and he hastily drew out a drawer a few inches. Brand caught sight of the +handle of a revolver. + +But the man was only eager to tell his story, and presently Reitzei had +resumed his air of indifference. As he proceeded to translate for +Brand's benefit, in interjectional phrases, what this man with the +trembling hands and the burning eyes was saying, it was strange to mark +the contrast between the two men. + +"His name Kirski," the younger man was saying, as he eyed, with a cool +and critical air, the wild look in the other's face. "A carver in wood, +but cannot work now, for his hands tremble, through hunger and +fatigue--through drink, I should say--native of a small village in +Kiev--had his share of the Communal land--but got permission from the +Commune to spend part of the year in Kiev itself--sent back all his +taxes duly, and money too, because--oh, this is it?--daughter of village +Elder--young, beautiful, of course--left an orphan, with three +brothers--and their share of the land too much for them. Ah, this is the +story, then, my friend? Married, too--young, beautiful, good--yes, yes, +we know all that--" + +There were tears running down the face of the other man. But these he +shook away; and a wilder light than ever came into his eyes. + +"He goes to Kiev as usual, foolish fellow; now I see what all the row is +about. When he returns, three months after, he goes to his house. Empty. +The neighbors will not speak. At last one says something about Pavel +Michaieloff, the great proprietor, whose house and farm are some versts +away--my good fellow, you have got the palsy, or is it drink?--he goes +and seeks out the house of Pavel--yes, yes, the story is not new--Pavel +is at the open window, smoking--he goes up to the window--there is a +woman inside--when she sees him she utters a loud scream, and rushes +for protection to the man Michaieloff--then all the fat is in the fire +naturally--" + +The Russian choked and gasped; drops of perspiration stood on his +forehead; he looked wildly around. + +"Water?" said Reitzei. "Poor devil, you need some water to cool down +your excitement. You are making as much fuss as if that kind of thing +had never happened in the world before." + +But he rose and got him some water, which the man drained eagerly; then +he continued his story with the same fierce and angry vehemence. + +"Well, yes, he had something to complain of, certainly," Reitzei said, +translating all that incoherent passion into cool little phrases. "Not a +fair fight. Pavel summons his men from the court-yard--men with +whips--dogs, too--he is lashed and driven along the roads, and the dogs +tear at him! Oh yes, my good friend, you have been badly used; but you +have come a long way to tell your story. I must ask him how the mischief +he got here at all." + +But here Reitzei paused and stared. Something the man said--in an eager, +low voice, with his sunken small eyes all afire--startled him out of his +critical air. + +"Oh, that is it, is it?" he said, eyeing him. "He will do any thing for +us--he will commit a murder--ten murders--if only we give him money, a +knife, and help to kill the man Michaieloff. Well, he is a lively sort +of person to let loose on society." + +"The man is clearly mad," Brand said. + +"The man was madder who sent him to us," Reitzei answered. "I should not +like to be in his shoes if Lind hears that this maniac was allowed to +see his daughter." + +The wretched creature standing there glanced eagerly from one to the +other, with the eyes of a wild animal, seeking to gather something from +their looks; then he went forward to the table, and stooped down and +spoke to Reitzei still further, in the same low, fierce voice, his whole +frame meanwhile shaking with his excitement. Reitzei said something to +him in reply, and motioned him back. He retired a step or two, and then +kept watching the faces of the two men. + +"What are you going to do with him?" Brand said. + +Reitzei shrugged his shoulders. + +"I know what I should like to do with him if I dared," he said, with a +graceful smile. "There is a friend of mine not a hundred miles away from +that very Kiev who wants a little admonition. Her name is Petrovna, she +is the jail-matron of a female penitentiary; she is just a little too +fierce at times. Murderers, thieves, prostitutes: oh yes, she can be +civil enough to them; but let a political prisoner come near her--one of +her own sex, mind--and she becomes a devil, a tigress, a vampire. Ah, +Madame Petrovna and I may have a little reckoning some day. I have asked +Lind again and again to petition for a decree against her; but no, he +will not move; he is becoming Anglicized, effeminate." + +"A decree?" Brand said. + +The other smiled, with an affectation of calm superiority. + +"You will learn by-and-by. Meanwhile, if I dared, what I should like to +do would be to give our friend here plenty of money, and not one but two +knives, saying to him. 'My good friend, here is one knife for +Michaieloff, if you like; but first of all here is this knife for that +angel in disguise, Madame Petrovna, of the Female Penitentiary in +Novolevsk. Strike sure and hard!'" + +For one instant his affectation forsook him, and there was a gleam in +his eyes. This was but a momentary relapse from his professed +indifference. + +"Well, Mr. Brand, I suppose I must take over this madman from you. You +may tell Miss Lind she need not be frightened." + +"I should not think Miss Lind was in the habit of being frightened," +said Brand, coldly. + +"Ah, no; doubtless not. Well, I shall see that this fellow does not +trouble her again. What fine tidings we had of your work in the North! +You have been a power; you have moved mountains." + +"I have moved John Molyneux," said Brand, with a laugh, "and in these +days that is a more difficult business." + +"Fine news from Spain, too," said Reitzei, glancing at some letters. +"From Valladolid, Barcelona, Ferrol, Saragossa--all the same story: +coalition, coalition. Salmero will be in London next week." + +"But you have not told me what you are going to do with this man yet; +you must stow the combustible piece of goods somewhere. Poor devil, his +sufferings have made a pitiable object of him." + +"My dear friend," said Reitzei, "You don't suppose that a Russian +peasant would feel so deeply a beating with whips, or the worrying of +dogs, or even the loss of his wife? Of course, all together, it was +something of a hard grind. He must have been constitutionally insane, +and that woke the whole thing up." + +"Then he should be confined. He is a lunatic at large." + +"I don't think he would harm anybody," Reitzei said, regarding the man +as if he were a strange animal. "I would not shut up a dog in a lunatic +asylum; I would rather put a bullet through his head. And this +fellow--if we could humbug him a little, and get him to his work +again--I know a man in Wardour Street who would do that for me--and see +what effect the amassing of a little English money might have on him. +Better a miser than a wild beast. And he seems a submissive sort of +creature. Leave him to me, Mr. Brand." + +Brand began to think a little better of Reitzei, whom hitherto he had +rather disliked. He handed him five pounds, to get some clothes and +tools for the man, who, when he was told of this generosity, turned to +Brand and said something to him in Russian which set Reitzei laughing. + +"What is it he says?" + +"He said, 'Little Father, you are worthy to become the husband of the +angel: may the day come soon!' I suppose the angel is Miss Lind; she +must have been very kind to the man." + +"She only spoke to him; but her voice can be kind," said Brand, rather +absently, and then he left. + +Away went the hansom back to Curzon Street. He said to himself that it +was not for nothing that this unfortunate wretch Kirski had wandered all +the way from the Dnieper to the Thames. He would look after this man. He +would do something for him. Five pounds only? And he had been the means +of securing this interview, if only for three of four minutes; after the +long period of labor and hope and waiting he might have gone without a +word at all but for this over-troubled poor devil. + +And now--now he might even see her alone for a couple of minutes in the +hushed little drawing-room; and she might say if she had heard about +what had been done in the North, and about his eagerness to return to +the work. One look of thanks; that was enough. Sometimes, by himself up +there in the solitary inns, the old fit had come over him; and he had +laughed at himself, and wondered at this new fire of occupation and +interest that was blazing through his life, and asked himself, as of +old, to what end--to what end? But when he heard Natalie Lind's voice, +there was a quick good-bye to all questioning. One look at the calm, +earnest eyes, and he drank deep of faith, courage, devotion. And surely +this story of the man Kirski--what he could tell her of it--would be +sufficient to fill up five minutes, eight minutes, ten minute, while +all the time he should be able to dwell on her eyes, whether they were +downcast, or turned to his with their frank, soft glance. He should be +in the perfume of the small drawing-room. He would see the Roman +necklace Mazzini had given her gleam on her bosom as she breathed. + +He did not know what Natalie Lind had been about during his absence. + +"Anneli, Anneli--hither, child!" she called in German. "Run up to Madame +Potecki, and ask her to come and spend the afternoon with me. She must +come at once, to lunch with me; I will wait." + +"Yes, Fraulein. What music, Fraulein?" + +"None; never mind any music. But she must come at once." + +"Schon, Fraulein," said the little Anneli, about to depart. + +Her young mistress called her back, and paused, with a little +hesitation. + +"You may tell Elizabeth," said she, with an indifferent air, "that it is +possible--it is quite possible--it is at least possible--I may have two +friends to lunch with me; and she must send at once if she wants +anything more. And you could bring me back some fresh flowers, Anneli?" + +"Why not, Fraulein?" + +"Go quick, then, Anneli--fly like a roe--_durch Wald und auf der +Haide_!" + +And so it came about that when George Brand was ushered into the scented +little drawing-room--so anxious to make the most of the invaluable +minutes--he found himself introduced first of all to Madame Potecki, a +voluble, energetic little Polish gentlewoman, whose husband had been +killed in the Warsaw disturbances of '61, and who now supported herself +in London by teaching music. She was eager to know all about the man +Kirski, and hoped that he was not wholly a maniac, and trusted that Mr. +Brand would see that her dear child--her adopted daughter, she might +say--was not terrified again by the madman. + +"My dear madame," said Brand, "you must not imagine that it was from +terror that Miss Lind handed over the man to me--it was from kindness. +That is more natural to her than terror." + +"Ah, I know the dear child has the courage of an army," said the little +old lady, tapping her adopted daughter on the shoulder with the fan. +"But she must take care of herself while her papa is away in America." + +Natalie rose; and of course Brand rose also, with a sudden qualm of +disappointment, for he took that as the signal of his dismissal; and he +had scarcely spoken a word to her. + +"Mr. Brand," said she, with some little trifle of embarrassment, "I know +I must have deprived you of your luncheon. It was so kind of you to go +at once with the poor man. Would it save you time--if you are not going +anywhere--I thought perhaps you might come and have something with +madame and myself. You must be dying of hunger." + +He did not refuse the invitation. And behold! when he went down-stairs, +the table was already laid for three; had he been expected, he asked +himself? Those flowers there, too: he knew it was no maid-servant's +fingers that had arranged and distributed them so skilfully. + +How he blessed this little Polish lady, and her volubility, and her +extravagant, subtle, honest flattery of her dear adopted daughter! It +gave him liberty to steep himself in the rich consciousness of Natalie's +presence; he could listen in silence for the sound of her voice--he +could covertly watch the beauty of her shapely hands--without being +considered preoccupied or morose. All he had to do was to say, "Yes, +madame," or "Indeed, madame," the while he knew that Natalie Lind was +breathing the same air with him--that at any moment the large, lustrous +dark eyes might look up and meet his. And she spoke little, too; and had +scarcely her usual frank self-confidence: perhaps a chance reference of +Madame Potecki to the fact that her adopted daughter had been brought up +without a mother had somewhat saddened her. + +The room was shaded in a measure, for the French silk blinds were down; +but there was a soft golden glow prevailing all the same. For many a day +George Brand remembered that little luncheon-party; the dull, bronze +glow of the room; the flowers; the soft, downcast eyes opposite him; the +bright, pleasant garrulity of the little Polish lady; and always--ah, +the delight of it!--that strange, trembling, sweet consciousness that +Natalie Lind was listening as he listened--that almost he could have +heard the beating of her heart. + +And a hundred and a hundred times he swore that, whoever throughout the +laboring and suffering world might regret that day, the man Kirski +should not. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +NEW FRIENDS. + + +It was a Sunday afternoon in Hyde Park, in this pleasantly opening +summer; and there was a fair show of "the quality" come out for their +accustomed promenade, despite the few thunder-showers that had swept +across from the South. These, in fact, had but served to lay the dust, +and to bring out the scent of the hawthorns and lilacs, so that the air +was sweet with perfume; while the massive clouds, banking up in the +North, formed a purple background to show up the young green foliage of +the trees, all wet with rain, and shimmering tremulously in the +sunlight. + +George Brand and his friend Evelyn sat in the back row of chairs, +watching the people pass and repass. It was a sombre procession, but +that here and there appeared a young English girl in her pale spring +costume--paler than the fresh glow of youth and health on her face, and +that here and there the sunlight, wandering down through the branches, +touched a scarlet sunshade--just then coming into fashion--until that +shone like a beautiful spacious flower among the mass of green. + +When they had been silently watching the people for some little time, +Brand said, almost to himself, + +"How very unlike those women she is!" + +"Who? Oh, Natalie Lind," said the other, who had been speaking of her +some minutes before. "Well, that is natural and I don't say it to their +disadvantage. I believe most girls are well-intended enough; but, of +course, they grow up in a particular social atmosphere, and it depends +on that what they become. If it is rather fast, the girl sees nothing +objectionable in being fast too. If it is religious, the god of her +idolatry is a bishop. If it is sporting, she thinks mostly about horses. +Natalie is exceptional, because she has been brought up in exceptional +circumstances. For one thing, she has been a good deal alone; and she +has formed all sorts of beautiful idealisms and aspirations--" + +The conversation dropped here; for at the moment Lord Evelyn espied two +of his sisters coming along in the slow procession. + +"Here come two of the girls," he said to his friend. "How precious +demure they look!" + +Brand at once rose, and went out from the shadow of the trees, to pay +his respects to the two young ladies. + +"How do you do, Miss D'Agincourt? How do you do, Miss Frances?" + +Certainly no one would have suspected these two very graceful and +pleasant-looking girls of being madcap creatures at home. The elder was +a tall and slightly-built blonde, with large gray eyes set wide apart; +the younger a gentle little thing, with brownish eyes, freckles, and a +pretty mouth. + +"Mamma?" said the eldest daughter, in answer to his inquires. "Oh, she +is behind, bringing up the rear, as it were. We have to go in +detachment, or else the police would come and read the riot act against +us. Francie and I are the vanguard; and she feels such a good little +girl, marching along two and two, just as if she were back at Brighton." + +The clear gray eyes--quite demure--glanced in toward the shadows of the +trees. + +"I see you have got Evelyn there, Mr. Brand. Who is the extraordinary +person he is always talking about now--the Maid of Saragossa, or Joan of +Arc, or something like that? Do you know her?" + +"I suppose you mean Miss Lind." + +"I know he has persuaded mamma to go and call on her, and get her to +dine with us, if she will come. Now, I call that kind." + +"If she accepts, you mean?" + +"No, I mean nothing of the sort. Good-bye. If we stay another minute, we +shall have the middle detachments overlapping the vanguard. En avant, +Francie! Vorwarts!" + +She bowed to him, and passed on in her grave and stately manner: more +calmly observant, demurer eyes were not in the Park. + +He ran the gauntlet of the whole family, and at last encountered the +mamma, who brought up the rear with the youngest of her daughters. Lady +Evelyn was a tall, somewhat good-looking, elderly lady, who wore her +silver-white hair in old-fashioned curls. She was an amiable but +strictly matter-of-fact person, who beheld her daughters' mad humors +with surprise as well as alarm. What were they forever laughing at? +Besides, it was indecorous. She had not conducted herself in that manner +when she lived in her father's home. + +Lady Evelyn, who was vaguely aware that Brand knew the Linds, repeated +her daughter's information about the proposed visit, and said that if +Miss Lind would come and spend the evening with them, she hoped Mr. +Brand would come too. + +"These girls do tease dreadfully, I know," said their mamma; "but +perhaps they will behave a little better before a stranger." + +Mr. Brand replied that he hoped Miss Lind would accept the +invitation--for during her father's absence she must be somewhat +dull--but that even without the protection of her presence he was not +afraid to face those formidable young ladies. Whereupon Miss +Geraldine--who was generally called the baby, though she was turned +thirteen--glanced at him with a look which said, "Won't you catch it for +that!" and the mamma then bade him good-bye, saying that Rosalys would +write to him as soon as the evening was arranged. + +He had not long to wait for that expected note. The very next night he +received it. Miss Lind was coming on Thursday; would that suit him? A +quarter to eight. + +He was there punctual to the moment. The presence of the whole rabble of +girls in the drawing-room told him that this was to be a quite private +and domestic dinner-party; on other occasions only two or three of the +phalanx--as Miss D'Agincourt described herself and her sisters--were +chosen to appear. And, on this especial occasion, there was a fine +hubbub of questions and raillery going on--which Brand vainly endeavored +to meet all at once--when he was suddenly rescued. The door was opened, +and Miss Lind was announced. The clamor ceased. + +She was dressed in black, with a red camellia in her bosom, and another +in the magnificent black hair. Brand thought he had never seen her look +so beautiful, and at once so graciously proud and gentle. Lady Evelyn +went forward to meet her, and greeted her very kindly indeed. She was +introduced to one or two of the girls. She shook hands with Mr. Brand, +and gave him a pleasant smile of greeting. Lady Evelyn had to apologize +for her son's absence; he had only gone to write a note. + +The tall, beautiful Hungarian girl seemed not in the least embarrassed +by all these curious eyes, that occasionally and covertly regarded her +while pretending not to do so. Two of the young ladies there were older +than she was, yet she seemed more of a woman than any of them. Her +self-possession was perfect. She sat down by Lady Evelyn, and submitted +to be questioned. The girls afterward told their brother they believed +she was an actress, because of the clever manner in which she managed +her train. + +But at this moment Lord Evelyn made his appearance in great excitement, +and with profuse apologies. + +"But the fact is," said he, producing an evening paper, "the fact +is--just listen to this, Natalie: it is the report of a police case." + +At his thus addressing her by her Christian name the mother started +somewhat, and the demure eyes of the girls were turned to the floor, +lest they should meet any conscious glance. + +"Here is a fellow brought before the Hammersmith magistrate for +indulging in a new form of amusement. Oh, very pretty! very nice! He had +only got hold of a small dog and he was taking it by the two forelegs, +and trying how far he could heave it. Very well; he is brought before +the magistrates. He had only heaved the dog two or three times; nothing +at all, you know. You think he will get off with a forty shillings fine, +or something like that. Not altogether! Two months' hard labor--_two +solid months' hard labor_; and if I had my will of the brute," he +continued, savagely, "I would give ten years' hard labor, and bury him +alive when he came out. However, two months' hard labor is something. I +glory in that magistrate; I have just been up-stairs writing a note +asking him to dine with me. I believe I was introduced to him once." + +"Evelyn quite goes beside himself," his mother said to her guest, with +half an air of apology, "when he reads about cruelty like that." + +"Surely it is better than being callous," said Natalie, speaking very +gently. + +They went in to dinner; and the young ladies were very well behaved +indeed. They did not at all resent the fashion in which the whole +attention of the dinner-table was given to the stranger. + +"And so you like living in England?" said Lady Evelyn to her. + +"I cannot breathe elsewhere," was the simple answer. + +"Why," said the matter-of-fact, silver-haired lady, "if this country is +notorious for anything, it is for its foggy atmosphere!" + +"I think it is famous for something more than that," said the girl, with +just a touch of color in the beautiful face; for she was not accustomed +to speak before so many people. "Is it not more famous for its freedom? +It is that that makes the air so sweet to breathe." + +"Well, at all events, you don't find it very picturesque as compared +with other countries. Evelyn tells me you have travelled a great deal." + +"Perhaps I am not very fond of picturesqueness," Natalie said, +modestly. "When I am travelling through a country I would rather see +plenty of small farms, thriving and prosperous, than splendid ruins that +tell only of oppression and extravagance, and the fierceness of war." + +No one spoke; so she made bold to continue--but she addressed Lady +Evelyn only. + +"No doubt it is very picturesque, as you go up the Rhine, or across the +See Kreis, or through the Lombard plains, to see every height crowned +with its castle. Yes, one cannot help admiring. They are like beautiful +flowers that have blossomed up from the valleys and the plains below. +But who tilled the land, that these should grow there on every height? +Are you not forced to think of the toiling wretches who labored and +labored to carry stone by stone up the crest of the hill? They did not +get much enjoyment out of the grandeur and picturesqueness of the +castles." + +"But they gave that labor for their own protection," Lady Evelyn said, +with a smile. "The great lords and barons were their protectors." + +"The great lords and barons said so, at least," said the girl, without +any smile at all, "and I suppose the peasantry believed them; and were +quite willing to leave their vineyards and go and shed their blood +whenever the great lords and barons quarrelled among themselves." + +"Well said! well said!" Brand exclaimed, quickly; though, indeed, this +calm, gentle-eyed, self-possessed girl was in no need of any champion. + +"I am afraid you are a great Radical, Miss Lind," said Lady Evelyn. + +"Perhaps it is your English air, Lady Evelyn," said the girl, with a +smile. + +Lord Evelyn's mother, notwithstanding her impassive, unimaginative +nature, soon began to betray a decided interest in this new guest, and +even something more. She was attracted, to begin with, by the singular +beauty of the young Hungarian lady, which was foreign-looking, unusual, +picturesque. She was struck by her perfect self-possession, and by the +ease and grace of her manner, which was rather that of a mature +woman than of a girl of nineteen. But most of all she was interested in +her odd talk and opinions, which she expressed with such absolute +simplicity and frankness. Was it, Lady Evelyn asked herself, that the +girl had been brought up so much in the society of men--that she had +neither mother nor sisters--that she spoke of politics and such matters +as if it the most natural thing in the world for women, of whatever +age, to consider them as of first importance? + +But one chance remark that Natalie made, on the impulse of the moment, +did for the briefest possible time break down that charming +self-confidence of hers, and show her--to the wonderment of the English +girls--the prey of an alarmed embarrassment. George Brand had been +talking of patriotism, and of the scorn that must naturally be felt for +the man who would say of his country, "Well, it will last my time. Let +me enjoy myself when I can. What do I care about the future of other +people?" And then he went on to talk of the larger patriotism that +concerned itself not merely with one's fellow-countrymen but with one's +fellow-mortals; and how the stimulus and enthusiasm of that wider +patriotism should be proportionately stronger; and how it might seek to +break down artificial barriers of political systems and religious +creeds. Patriotism was a beautiful flame--a star; but here was a sun. +Ordinary, to tell the truth, Brand was but an indifferent speaker--he +had all an Englishman's self-consciousness; but now he spoke for Natalie +alone, and minded the others but little. Presently Lady Evelyn said, +with a smile, + +"You, too, Miss Lind, are a reformer, are you not? Evelyn is very +mysterious, and I can't quite make out what he means; but at all events +it is very kind of you to spare us an evening when you must be so deeply +engaged." + +"I?" said Natalie. "Oh no, it is very little that I can do. The work is +too difficult and arduous for women, perhaps. But there is one thing +that women can do--they can love and honor those who are working for +them." + +It was spoken impulsively--probably the girl was thinking only of her +father. But at the moment she happened to look up, and there were +Rosalys D'Agincourt's calmly observant eyes fixed on her. Then some +vague echo of what she had said rushed in upon her; she was bewildered +by the possible interpretation others might put on the words; and the +quick, sensitive blood mounted to her forehead. But fortunately Lady +Evelyn, who had missed the whole thing, happened at this very instant to +begin talking of orchids, and Natalie struck in with great relief. So +that little episode went by. + +And, as dinner went on, Brand became more and more convinced that this +family was the most delightful family in England. Just so much restraint +had left their manner as to render those madcap girls exceedingly frank +and good-natured in the courtesy they showed to their guest, and to +admit her as a confidante into their ways of bantering each other. And +one would herself come round to shift the fire-screen behind Miss Lind +to precisely the proper place; and another said that Miss Lind drank +water because Evelyn had been so monstrously stupid as not to have any +Hungarian wine for her; and another asked if she might call on Miss Lind +the following afternoon, to take her to some place where some marvellous +Japanese curiosities were on view. Then, when they left for the +drawing-room, the eldest Miss D'Agincourt put her arm within the arm of +their guest, and said, + +"Now, dear Miss Lind, please understand that, if there was any stranger +here at all, we should not dream of asking you to sing. Ermentrude and I +take all that on our shoulders; we squawk for the whole of the family. +But Evelyn has told us so much about your singing--" + +"Oh, I will sing for you if you wish it," said Natalie, without +hesitation. + +Some little time thereafter Brand was walking up and down the room +below, slowly and thoughtfully: he was not much of a wine-drinker. + +"Evelyn," he said, suddenly, "I shall soon be able to tell you whether I +owe you a life-long gratitude. I owe you much already. Through you I +have got some work to do in the world; I am busy, and content. But there +is a greater prize." + +"I think I can guess what you mean," his companion said, calmly. + +"You do?" said the other, with a quick look. "And you do not think I am +mad?--to go and ask her to be my wife before she has given me a single +word of hope?" + +"She has spoken to others about you: I know what she thinks of you," +said Lord Evelyn. Then the fine, pale face was slightly flushed. "To +tell you the truth, Brand, I thought of this before you ever saw her." + +"Thought of what?" said the other, with a stare of surprise. + +"That you would be the right sort of man to make a husband for her: she +might be left alone in the world at any moment, without a single +relation, and scarcely a friend." + +"Women don't marry for these reasons," said the other, somewhat +absently. "And yet, if she were to think of it, it would not be as if I +were withdrawing her from everything she takes an interest in. We should +be together. I am eager to go forward, even by myself; but with her for +a companion--think of that!" + +"I have thought of it," said Lord Evelyn, with something of a sad smile. +"Often. And there is no man in England more heartily wishes you success +than I do. Come, let us go up to the drawing-room." + +They went out into the hall. Some one was playing a noisy piece +up-stairs; it was safe to speak. And then he said, + +"Shall I tell you something, Brand?--something that will keep you awake +all this night, and not with the saddest of thinking? If I am not +mistaken, I fancy you have already 'stole bonny Glenlyon away.'" + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +A LETTER. + + +Black night lay over the city, and silence; the river flowed unseen +through the darkness; but a thousand golden points of fire mapped out +the lines of the Embankment and the long curves of the distant bridges. +The infrequent sounds that could be heard were strangely distinct, even +when they were faint and remote. There was a slight rustling of wind in +the trees below the window. + +But the night and the silence brought him neither repose nor counsel. A +multitude of bewildering, audacious hopes and distracting fears strove +for mastery in his mind, upsetting altogether the calm and cool judgment +on which he prided himself. His was not a nature to harbor illusions; he +had a hard way of looking at things; and yet--and yet--might not this +chance speech of Lord Evelyn have been something more than a bit of +good-humored raillery? Lord Evelyn was Natalie's intimate friend; he +knew all her surroundings; he was a quick observer; he was likely to +know if this thing was possible. But, on the other hand, how was it +possible that so beautiful a creature, in the perfect flower of her +youth, should be without a lover? He forced himself to remember that she +and her father seemed to see no society at all. Perhaps she was too +useful to him, and he would not have her entangle herself with many +friends. Perhaps they had led too nomadic a life. But even in hotels +abroad, how could she have avoided the admiration she was sure to evoke? +And in Florence, mayhap, or Mentone, or Madrid; and here he began to +conjure up a host of possible rivals, all foreigners, of course, and all +equally detestable, and to draw pictures for him of _tables d'hote_, +with always the one beautiful figure there, unconscious, gentle, silent, +but drawing to her all men's eyes. + +There was but the one way of putting an end to this maddening +uncertainty. He dared not claim an interview with her; she might be +afraid of implying too much by granting it; various considerations might +dictate a refusal. But he could write; and, in point of fact, +writing-materials were on the table. Again and again he had sat down and +taken the pen in his hand, only to get up as often and go and stare out +into the yellow glare of the night. For an instant his shadow would fall +on the foliage of the trees below, and then pass away again like a +ghost. + +At two-and-twenty love is reckless, and glib of speech; it takes little +heed of the future; the light straw-flame, for however short a period, +leaps up merrily enough. But at two-and-thirty it is more alive to +consequences; it is not the present moment, but the duration of life, +that it regards; it seeks to proceed with a sure foot. And at this +crisis, in the midst of all this irresolution, that was unspeakably +vexatious to a man of his firm nature, Brand demanded of himself his +utmost power of self-control. He would not imperil the happiness of his +life by a hasty, importunate appeal. When at length he sat down, +determined not to rise until he had sent her this message, he forced +himself to write--at the beginning, at least--in a roundabout and +indifferent fashion, so that she should not be alarmed. He began by +excusing his writing to her, saying he had scarcely ever had a chance of +talking to her, and that he wished to tell her something of what had +happened to him since the memorable evening on which he had first met +her at her father's house. And he went on to speak to her of a friend of +his, who used to amuse himself with the notion that he would like to +enter himself at a public school and go through his school life all over +again. There he had spent the happiest of his days; why should he not +repeat them? If only the boys would agree to treat him as one of +themselves, why should he not be hail-fellow-well-met with them, and +once more enjoy the fun of uproarious pillow-battles and have smuggled +tarts and lemonade at night, and tame rabbits where no rabbits should +be, and a profound hero-worship for the captain of the school Eleven, +and excursions out of bounds, when his excess of pocket-money would +enable him to stand treat all round? "Why not?" this friend of his used +to say. "Was it so very impossible for one to get back the cares and +interests, the ambitions, the amusements, the high spirits of one's +boyhood?" And if he now were to tell her that a far greater miracle had +happened to himself? That at an age when he had fancied he had done and +seen most things worth doing and seeing, when the past seemed to +contain everything worth having, and there was nothing left but to try +how the tedious hours could be got over; when a listless _ennui_ was +eating his very heart out--that he should be presented, as it were, with +a new lease of life, with stirring hopes and interests, with a new and +beautiful faith, with a work that was a joy in itself, whether any +reward was to be or no? And surely he could not fail to express to Lord +Evelyn and to herself his gratitude for this strange thing. + +These are but the harsh outlines of what, so far, he wrote; but there +was a feeling in it--a touch of gladness and of pathos here and +there--that had never before been in any of his writing, and of which he +was himself unconscious. + +But at this point he paused, and his breathing grew quick. It was so +difficult to write in these measured terms. When he resumed, he wrote +more rapidly. + +What wonder, he made bold to ask her, if amidst all this bewildering +change some still stranger dream of what might be possible in the future +should have taken possession of him? She and he were leagued in sympathy +as regarded the chief object of their lives; it was her voice that had +inspired him; might he not hope that they should go forward together, in +close friendship at least, if there could be nothing more? And as to +that something more, was there no hope? He could give himself no grounds +for any such hope; and yet--so much had happened to him, and mostly +through her, that he could set no limit to the possibilities of +happiness that lay in her generous hands. When he saw her among others, +he despaired; when he thought of her alone, and of the gentleness of her +heart, he dared to hope. And if this declaration of his was distressing +to her, how easy it was for her to dismiss and forget it. If he had +dared too much, he had himself to blame. In any case, she need not fear +that her refusal should have the effect of dissociating them in those +wider interests and sympathies to which he had pledged himself. He was +not one to draw back. And if he had alarmed or offended her, he appealed +to her charity--to that great kindness which she seemed eager to extend +to all living creatures. How could such a vision of possible happiness +have arisen in his mind without his making one effort, however +desperate, to realize it? At the worst, she would forgive. + +This was, in brief, the substance of what he wrote; but when, after many +an anxious re-reading, he put the letter in an envelope, he was +miserably conscious how little it conveyed of all the hope and desire +that had hold of his heart. But then, he argued with himself, if she +inclined her ear so far, surely he would have other and better +opportunities of pleading with her; whereas, if he had been dreaming of +impossibilities, then he and she would meet the more easily in the +future that he had not given too vehement an expression to all the love +and admiration he felt for her. He could not sacrifice her friendship +also--her society--the chances of listening from time to time to the +musical low, soft voice. + +Carrying this fateful letter in his hand, he went down stairs and out +into the cool night air. And now he was haunted by a hundred fears. +Again and again he was on the point of turning back to add something, to +alter something, to find some phrase that would appeal more closely to +her heart. And then all of a sudden he convinced himself that he should +not have written at all. Why not have gone to see her, at any risk, to +plead with herself? But then he would have had to write to beg for a +_tete-a-tete_ interview; and would not that be more distinctly alarming +than this roundabout epistle, which was meant to convey so much +indirectly? Finally, he arrived at the pillar letter-box: and this +indisputable fact brought an end to his cogitations. If he had gone +walking onward he would have wasted the night in fruitless counsel. He +would have repeated again and again the sentences he had used; striven +to picture her as she read; wondered if he ought not still to go back +and strengthen his prayer. But now it was to be yes or no. Well, he +posted the letter; and then he breathed more freely. The die was cast, +for good or ill. + +And, indeed, no sooner was the thing done than his spirits rose +considerably, and he walked on with a lighter heart. This solitary +London, all lamp-lit and silent, was a beautiful city. "_Schlaf selig +und suss_," the soft stirring of the night-wind seemed to say: let her +not dread the message the morning would bring! He thought of the other +cities she must have visited; and if--ah, the dream of it!--if he and +she were to go away together to behold the glories of the moonlight on +the lagoon, and the wonders of the sunrise among the hills! He had been +in Rome, he remembered, a wonderful coronet of rubies: would not that do +for the beautiful black masses of hair? Or pearls? She did not appear to +have much jewellery. Or rather--seeing that such things are possible +between husband and wife--would she not accept the value, and far more +than the value, of any jewellery she could desire, to be given away in +acts of kindness? That would be more like Natalie. + +He walked on, his heart full of an audacious joy; for now this was the +picture before him; a Buckinghamshire hill; a red and white house among +the beeches; and a spacious lawn looking out on the far and wooded +plain, with its villages, and spires, and tiny curls of smoke. And this +foreign young lady become an English house-mistress; proud of her +nectarines and pineapples; proud of her Hungarian horses; proud of the +quiet and comfort of the home she can offer to her friends, when they +come for a space to rest from their labors.... "_Schlaf selig und +suss!_" the night-wind seemed to say: "The white morning is bringing +with it a message!" + +To him the morning brought an end to all those golden dreams of the +night. There action had set in. His old misgivings returned with +redoubled force. For one thing, there was a letter from Reitzei, saying +that the man Kirski had at length consented to begin to work at his +trade, and that Miss Lind need fear no further annoyance; and somehow he +did not like to see her name written in this foreign way of writing. She +belonged to these foreigners; her cares and interests were not those of +one who would feel at home in that Buckhamshire home; she was remote. +And, of course, in her manifold wanderings--in those hotels in which she +had to pass the day, when her father was absent at his secret +interviews--how could she avoid making acquaintances? Even among those +numerous friends of her father's there must have been some one here or +there to accompany her in her drives in the Prater, in her evenings at +La Scala, in her morning walk along the Chiaja. He remembered how seldom +he had seen her; she might have many more friends in London than he had +dreamed of. Who could see her, and remain blind to her beauty? Who could +know her, and remain insensible to the fascination of her enthusiasm, +her faith in the right, her courage, her hope, her frank friendship with +those who would help? + +He was impatient with the veteran Waters this morning; and Waters was +himself fractious, and inclined to resent sarcasm. He had just heard +from Buckinghamshire that his substitute had, for some reason or other, +intrusted the keys of the wine-cellar to one of the house-maids; and +that that industrious person had seized the opportunity to tilt up all +the port-wine she could lay her hands on in order to polish the bottles +with a duster. + +"Well," said his master, "I suppose she collected the cobwebs and sold +them to a wine-merchant: they would be invaluable." + +Waters said nothing, but resolved to have a word with the young woman +when he went down. + +The morning was fine; in any case, Brand could not have borne the +distress of waiting in all day, on the chance of her reply coming. He +had to be moving. He walked up to Lisle Street, and saw Reitzei, on the +pretext of talking about Kirski. + +"Lind will be back in a week," said the pallid-faced smart young man. +"He writes with great satisfaction, which always means something in his +case. I should not wonder if he and his daughter went to live in the +States." + +"Oh, indeed," said Brand, coldly; but the words made his heart tremble. + +"Yes. And if you would only go through the remaining degrees, you might +take his place--who knows?" + +"Who knows, indeed?" said Brand. "But I don't covet the honor." + +There was something in his tone which made the other look up. + +"I mean the responsibility," he said, quickly. + +"You see," observed Reitzei, leaning back in his chair, "one must admit +you are having rather hard lines. Your work is invaluable to us--Lind is +most proud of it--but it is tedious and difficult, eh? Now if they were +to give you something like the Syrian business--" + +"What is that?" + +"Oh, only one of the many duties the Society has undertaken," said +Reitzei, carelessly. "Not that I approve because the people are +Christians; it is because they are numerically weak; and the Mahommedans +treat them shamefully. There is no one knows about it; no one to make a +row about it; and the Government won't let the poor wretches import arms +to defend themselves. Very well: very well, messieurs! But your +Government allow the importation of guns for sport. Ha! and then, if one +can find money, and an ingenious English firm to make rifle-barrels to +fit into the sporting-gun stock can you conceive any greater fun than +smuggling these barrels into the country? My dear fellow, it is +glorious: we could have five hundred volunteers! But at the same time I +say your work is more valuable to us. No one but an Englishman could do +it. Every one knows of your success." + +Brand thanked Reitzei for his good opinion, and rather absently took up +his hat and left. Instinctively he made his way westward. He was sure to +see her, at a distance, taking this morning stroll of hers: might he not +guess something from her face as to what her reply would be? She could +not have written so soon; she would take time to consider; even a +refusal would, he knew, be gently worded. + +In any case, he would see her; and if her answer gave no hope, it would +be the last time on which he would follow that graceful figure from afar +with his eyes, and wonder to himself what the low and musical voice was +saying to Anneli. And as he walked on, he grew more and more +downhearted. It was a certainty that, out of all those friends of her +father's some one must have dreamed of possessing this beautiful prize +for his own. + +When, after not much waiting, he saw Natalie and Anneli cross into the +Park, he had so reasoned himself into despair that he was not +surprised--at least he tried to convince himself that he was not +surprised--to perceive that the former was accompanied by a stranger, +the little German maid-servant walking not quite with them, and yet not +altogether behind them. He could almost have expected this; and yet his +eyes seemed hot, and he had some difficulty in trying to make out who +this might be. And at this great distance he could only gather that he +was foreign in appearance, and that he wore a peaked cap in place of a +hat. + +He dared not follow them now; and he was about to turn away when he saw +Natalie's new companion motion to her to sit down on one of the seats. +He sat down, too; and he took her hand, and held it in his. What then? + +This man looking on from a distance, with a bitter heart, had no thought +against her. Was it not natural for so beautiful a girl to have a lover? +But that this fellow--this foreigner--should degrade her by treating her +as if she were a nursery-maid flirting with one of the soldiers from the +barracks down there, this filled him with bitterness and hatred. He +turned and walked away with a firm step. He had no ill thoughts of her, +whatever message she might send him. At the worst, she had been generous +to him; she had filled his life with love and hope; she had given him a +future. If this dream were shattered, at least he could turn elsewhere, +and say, "Labor, be thou my good." + +Meanwhile, of this stranger? He had indeed taken Natalie Lind's hand in +his, and Natalie let it remain there without hesitation. + +"My little daughter," said he to her in Italian, "I could have +recognized you by your hands. You have the hands of your mother: no one +in the world had more beautiful hands than she had. And now I will tell +you about her, if you promise not to cry any more." + +It was Calabressa who spoke. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +CALABRESSA. + + +When Calabressa called at the house in Curzon Street he was at once +admitted; Natalie recognizing the name as that of one of her father's +old friends. Calabressa had got himself up very smartly, to produce an +impression on the little Natalushka whom he expected to see. His +military-looking coat was tightly buttoned; he had burnished up the gold +braid of his cap; and as he now ascended the stairs he gathered the ends +of his mustache out of his yellow-white beard and curled them round and +round his fingers and pulled them out straight. He had already assumed a +pleasant smile. + +But when he entered the shaded drawing-room, and beheld this figure +before him, all the dancing-master's manner instantly fled from him. He +seemed thunderstruck; he shrunk back a little; his cap fell to the +floor; he could not utter a word. + +"Excuse me--excuse me, mademoiselle," he gasped out at length, in his +odd French. "Ah, it is like a ghost--like other years come back--" + +He stared at her. + +"I am very pleased to see you, sir," said she to him, gently, in +Italian. + +"Her voice also--her voice also!" he exclaimed, almost to himself, in +the same tongue. "Signorina, you will forgive me--but--when one sees an +old friend--you are so like--ah, so like--" + +"You are speaking of my mother?" the girl said, with her eyes cast down. +"I have been told that I was like her. You knew her, signore?" + +Calabressa pulled himself together somewhat. He picked up his cap; he +assumed a more business-like air. + +"Oh yes, signorina, I knew her," he said, with an apparent carelessness, +but he was regarding her all the same. "Yes, I knew her well. We were +friends long before she married. What, are you surprised that I am so +old? Do you know that I can remember you when you were a very little +thing--at Dunkirk it was--and what a valiant young lady you were, and +you would go to fight the Russians all by yourself! And you--you do not +remember your mother?" + +"I cannot tell," she said, sadly. "They say it is impossible, and yet I +seem to remember one who loved me, and my grief when I asked for her and +found she would never come back--or else that is only my recollection of +what I was told by others. But what of that? I know where she is now: +she is my constant companion. I know she loved me; I know she is always +regarding me; I talk to her, so that I am never quite alone; at night I +pray to her, as if she were a saint--" + +She turned aside somewhat; her eyes were full of tears. Calabressa said +quickly, + +"Ah, signorina, why recall what is so sad? It is so useless. _Allons +donc!_ shall I tell you of my surprise when I saw you first? A +ghost--that is nothing! It is true, your father warned me. He said, 'The +little Natalushka is a woman now.' But how could one believe it?" + +She had recovered her composure; she begged him to be seated. + +"_Bien!_ One forgets. Then my old mother--my dear young lady, even I, +old as I am, have a mother--what does she do but draw a prize in the +Austro-Hungarian lottery--a huge prize--enough to demoralize one for +life--five thousand florins. More remarkable still, the money is paid. +Not so remarkable, my good mother declares she will give half of it to +an undutiful son, who has never done very well with money in this world. +We come to the _denouement_ quickly. 'What,' said I, 'shall I do with my +new-found liberty and my new-found money? To the devil with banks! I +will be off and away to the land of fogs to see my little friend +Natalushka, and ask her what she thinks of the Russians now.' And the +result? My little daughter, you have given me such a fright that I can +feel my hands still trembling." + +"I am very sorry," said she, with a smile. This gay manner of his had +driven away her sad memories. It seemed quite natural to her that he +should address her as "My little daughter." + +"But where are the fogs? It is a paradise that I have reached--the air +clear and soft, the gardens beautiful. This morning I said to myself, 'I +will go early. Perhaps the little Natalushka will be going out for a +walk; perhaps we will go together.' No, signorina," said he, with a +mock-heroic bow, "it was not with the intention of buying you toys. But +was I not right? Do I not perceive by your costume that you were about +to go out?" + +"That is nothing, signore," said she. "It would be very strange if I +could not give up my morning walk for an old friend of my father's." + +"_An contraire_, you shall not give up your walk," said he, with great +courtesy. "We will go together; and then you will tell me about your +father." + +She accepted this invitation without the slightest scruple. It did not +occur to her--as it would naturally have occurred, to most English +girls--that she would rather not go walking in Hyde Park with a person +who looked remarkably like the leader of a German band. + +But Calabressa had known her mother. + +"Ah, signore," said she, when they had got into the outer air, "I shall +be so grateful to you if you will tell me about my mother. My father +will not speak of her; I dare not awaken his grief again; he must have +suffered much. You will tell me about her." + +"My little daughter, your father is wise. Why awaken old sorrows? You +must not spoil your eyes with more crying." + +And then he went on to speak of all sorts of things, in his rapid, +interjectional fashion--of his escape from prison mostly--until he +perceived that she was rather silent and sad. + +"Come then," said he, "we will sit down on this seat. Give me your +hand." + +She placed her hand in his without hesitation; and he patted it gently, +and said how like it was to the hand of her mother. + +"You are a little taller than she was," said he; "a little--not much. +Ah, how beautiful she was! She had many sweethearts." + +He was silent for a minute or two. + +"Some of them richer, some of them of nobler birth than your father; and +one of them her own cousin, whom all her family wanted her to marry. But +you know, little daughter, your father is a very determined man--" + +"But she loved him the best?" said the girl, quickly. + +"Ah, no doubt, no doubt," said Calabressa. "He is very kind to you, is +he not?" + +"Oh yes. Who could be kinder? But about my mother, signore?" + +Calabressa seemed somewhat embarrassed. + +"To say the truth, little daughter, how am I to tell you? I scarcely +ever saw her after she married. Before then, you must imagine yourself +as you are to think of her picture: and she was very much beloved--and +very fond of horses. Is not that enough to tell? Ah, yes, another thing: +she was very brave when there was any danger; and you know all the +family were strong patriots; and one or two got into sad trouble. When +her father--that is your grandfather, little daughter--when he failed to +escape into Turkey after the assassination--" + +Here Calabressa stopped, and then gave a slight wave of his hand. + +"These are matters not interesting to you. But when her father had to +seek a hiding-place she went with him in despite of everybody. I do not +suppose he would be alive now but for her devotion." + +"Is my mother's father alive?" the girl said, with eyes wide open. + +"I believe so; but the less said about it the better, little daughter." + +"Why has my father never told me?" she asked, with the same almost +incredulous stare. + +"Have I not hinted? The less said the better. There are some things no +government will amnesty. Your grandfather was a good patriot, little +daughter." + +Thereafter for some minutes silence. Slight as was the information +Calabressa had given her, it was of intensest interest to her. There was +much for her to think over. Her mother, whom she had been accustomed to +regard as a beautiful saint, placed far above the common ways of earth, +was suddenly presented to her in a new light. She thought of her young, +handsome, surrounded with lovers, proud-spirited and patriotic--a +devoted daughter, a brave woman. + +"You also loved her?" she said to Calabressa. + +The man started. She had spoken quite innocently--almost absently: she +was thinking that he, too, must have loved the brave young Hungarian +girl as all the world loved her. + +"I?" said Calabressa. "Oh yes, I was a friend of hers for many years. I +taught her Italian; she corrected my Magyar. Once her horse ran way; I +was walking, and saw her coming; there was a wagon and oxen, and I +shouted to the man; he drew the oxen right across the road, and barred +the way. Ah, how angry she used to be--she pretended to be--when they +told her I had saved her life! She was a bold rider." + +Presently Calabressa said, with a lighter air, + +"Come, let us talk of something else--of you, _par exemple_. How do you +like the English? You have many sweethearts among them, of course." + +"No, signore, I have no sweethearts," said Natalie, without any trace of +embarrassment. + +"What! Is is possible? When I saw your father in Venice, and he told me +the little Natalushka had grown to be a woman. I said to him, 'Then she +will marry an Englishman.'" + +"And what did he say?" the girl asked, with a startled look on her face. + +"Oh, little, very little. If there was no possibility, why should he say +much?" + +"I have no sweethearts," said Natalie, simply; "but I have a friend--who +wishes to be more than a friend. And it is now, when I have to answer +him, it is now that I know what a sad thing it is to have no mother." + +The pathetic vibration that Brand had noticed was in her voice; her eyes +were downcast, her hands clasped. For a second or two Calabressa was +silent. + +"I am not idly curious, my little daughter," he said at length, and very +gently; "but if you knew how long your mother and I were friends, you +would understand the interest I feel in you, and why I came all this way +to see the little Natalushka. So, one question, dear little one. Does +your father approve?" + +"Ah, how can I tell?" + +He took her hand, and his face was grave. + +"Listen now," said he; "I am going to give you advice. If your mother +could speak to you, this is what she would say: Whatever +happens--whatever happens--do not thwart your father's wishes." + +She wished to withdraw her hand, but he still held it. + +"I do not understand you," she said. "Papa's wishes will always be for +my happiness; why should I think of thwarting them?" + +"Why, indeed? And again, why? It is my advice to you, my little +daughter, whether you think your father's wishes are for your happiness +or not--because, you know, sometimes fathers and daughters have +different ideas--do not go against his will." + +The hot blood mounted to Natalie's forehead--for the first time during +this interview. + +"Are you predicting strife, signore? I owe obedience to my father, I +know it; but I am not a child. I am a woman, and have my own wishes. My +papa would not think of thwarting them." + +"Natalushka, you must not be angry with me." + +"I am not angry, signore; but you must not suppose that I am quite a +child." + +"Pardieu, non!" said Calabressa. "I expected to find Natalushka; I find +Natalie--ah, Heaven! that is the wonder and the sadness of it to me! I +think I am talking to your mother: these are her hands. I listen to her +voice: it seems twenty years ago. And you have a proud spirit, as she +had: again I say--do not thwart your father's wishes, Natalie--rather, +Natalushka!" + +He spoke with such an obvious kindness and earnestness that she could +not feel offended. + +"And if you want any one to help you at any time, my little +daughter--for who knows the ways of the world, and what may happen?--if +your father is sent away, and you are alone, and you want some one to do +something for you, then this is what you will say to yourself: 'There is +that old fool Calabressa, who has nothing in the world to do but smoke +cigarettes and twirl his mustache--I will send for Calabressa.' And this +I promise, little one, that Calabressa will very soon be at your feet." + +"I thank you signore." + +"It is true, I may be away on duty, as your father might be; but I have +friends at head-quarters; I have done some service. And if I were to +say, 'Calabressa wishes to be relieved from duty; it is the daughter of +Natalie Berezolyi who demands his presence,' I know the answer: +'Calabressa will proceed at once to obey the commands of the daughter of +Natalie Berezolyi.'" + +"But who--" + +"No, my little daughter, you must not ask that. I will tell you only +that they are all-powerful; that they will protect you--with Calabressa +as their agent; and before I leave this city I will give you my address, +or rather I will give you an address where you will find some one who +will guide you to me. May Heaven grant that there be no need. Why should +harm come to one who is so beautiful and so gentle?" + +"My mother--was she happy?" she said quickly. + +"Little daughter," said he, sharply, and he threw away her hand, "if you +ask me any more questions about your mother you will make my heart +bleed. Do you not understand so simple a thing as that, you who claim +to be a woman? You have been stabbing me. Come, come: _allons!_--let us +talk of something else--of your friend who wishes to be more than a +friend--you wicked little one, who have no sweetheart! And what are +those fools of English about? What? But tell me--is he one of us?" + +"Oh yes, signore," said she; and instead of showing any shamefacedness, +she turned toward him and regarded him with the fearless, soft dark +eyes. "How could you think otherwise? And he is so brave and noble: he +is not afraid of sacrificing those things that the English put such +store by--" + +"English?" said Calabressa. + +"Yes," said Natalie; and now she looked down. + +"And what does your heart say?" + +She spoke very gently in reply. + +"Signor, I have not answered him yet; you cannot expect me to answer +you." + +"A la bonne heure! Little traitress, to say she has no sweethearts! +Happy Englishman! What, then, do I distress you? It is not so simple! It +is an embarrassment, this proposal that he has made to you! But I will +not trouble you further with my questions, little daughter: how can an +old jail-bird like myself understand a young linnet-thing that has +always been flying and fluttering about in happiness and the free air? +Enfin, let us go! I perceive your little maid is tired of standing and +staring; perhaps it is time for you to go back." + +She rose, and the three of them slowly proceeded along the gravelled +path. + +"Your father does not return until next week: must I wait a whole week +in this desert of a town before seeing you again, petite?" + +"Oh no," said Natalie, smiling; "that is not necessary. If my papa were +here now he would certainly ask you to dine with us to-night; may I do +so in his place? You will not find much amusement; but Madame +Potecki--you knew her husband, perhaps?" + +"Potecki the Pole, who was killed?" + +"Yes. She will play a little music for you. But there are so many +amusements in London, perhaps you would rather not spend your evening +with two poor solitary creatures like us." + +"My little daughter, to hear you speak, that is all I want; it takes +twenty years away from my life; I do not know whether to laugh or to +cry. But _courage_! we will put a good face on our little griefs. This +evening--this evening I will pretend to myself something--I am going to +live my old life over again--for an hour; I will blow a horn as soon as +I have crossed the Erlau, and they will hear it up at the big house +among the pines, where the lights are shining through the dark, and they +will send a servant down to open the gates; and you will appear at the +hall-door, and say, 'Signor Calabressa, why do you make such a noise to +awaken the dogs?' And I will say, 'Dear Miss Berezolyi, the pine-woods +are frightfully dark; may I not scare away the ghosts?" + +"It was my mother who received you," the girl said, in a low voice. + +"It was Natalie then; to-night it will be Natalushka." + +He spoke lightly, so as not to make these reminiscences too serious. But +the conjunction of the two names seemed suddenly to startle the girl. +She stopped, and looked him in the face. + +"It was you, then," she said, "who sent me the locket?" + +"What locket?" he said, with surprise. + +"The locket the lady dropped into my lap--'_From Natalie to +Natalushka_.'" + +"I declare to you, little daughter, I never heard of it." + +The girl looked bewildered. + +"Ah, how stupid I am!" she exclaimed. "I could not understand. But if +they always called her Natalie, and me Natalushka--" + +She paused for a moment to collect her thoughts. + +"Signor Calabressa, what does it mean?" she said, almost wildly. "If one +sends me a locket--'_From Natalie to Natalushka_'--was it my mother's? +Did she intend it for me? Did she leave it for me with some one, long +ago? How could it come into the hands of a stranger?" + +Calabressa himself seemed rather bewildered--almost alarmed. + +"My little daughter, you have no doubt guessed right," he said, +soothingly. "Your mother may have meant it for you--and--and perhaps it +was lost--and just recovered--" + +"Signor Calabressa," said she--and he could have fancied it was her +mother who was speaking in that low, earnest, almost sad voice--"you +said you would do me an act of friendship if I asked you. I cannot ask +my father; he seems too grieved to speak of my mother at any time; but +do you think you could find out who the lady was who brought that locket +to me? That would be kind of you, if you could do that." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +HER ANSWER. + + +Humphreys, the delegate from the North, and O'Halloran, the Irish +reporter, had been invited by George Brand to dine with him on this +evening--Humphreys having to start for Wolverhampton next day--and the +three were just sitting down when Lord Evelyn called in, uninvited, and +asked if he might have a plate placed for him. Humphreys was anxious +that their host should set out with him for the North in the morning; +but Brand would not promise. He was obviously thinking of other things. +He was at once restless, preoccupied, and silent. + +"I hope, my lord, you have come to put our friend here in better +spirits," said Humphreys, blushing a little as he ventured to call one +of the Brands of Darlington his friend. + +"What is the matter?" + +At this moment Waters appeared at the door with a letter in his hand. +Brand instantly rose, went forward to him and took the letter, and +retired into an adjoining room. Without looking, he know from whom it +had come. + +His hand was shaking as he opened the envelope; but the words that met +his eyes were calm. + +"My dear friend,--Your letter has given me joy and pain. Joy that you +still adhere to your noble resolve; that you have found gladness in your +life; that you will work on to the end, whatever the fruit of the work +may be. But this other thought of yours--that only distresses me; it +clouds the future with uncertainty and doubt, where there should only be +clear faith. My dear friend, I must ask you to put away that thought. +Let the _feu sacre_ of the regenerator, the liberator, have full +possession of you. How I should blame myself if I were to distract you +from the aims to which you have devoted your life. I have no one to +advise me; but this I know is _right_. You will, I think, not +misunderstand me--you will not think it unmaidenly of me--if I confess +to you that I have written these words with some pain, some touch of +regret that all is not possible to you that you may desire. But for one +soul on devotion. Do I express myself clearly?--you know English is not +my native tongue. If we may not go through life together, in the sense +that you mean, we need not be far apart; and you will know, as you go +forward in the path of a noble duty, that there is not any one who +regards you and the work you will do with a greater pride and affection +than your friend, + + NATALIE." + +What could it all mean? he asked himself. This was not the letter of a +woman who loved another man; she would have been more explicit; she +would have given sufficient reason for her refusal. He read again, with +a beating heart, with a wild hope, that veiled and subtle expression of +regret. Was it not that she was prepared to sacrifice forever those +dreams of a secure and happy and loving life, that come naturally to a +young girl, lest they should interfere with what she regarded as the +higher duty, the more imperative devotion? In that case, it was for a +firmer nature than her own to take this matter in hand. She was but a +child; knowing nothing of the sorrows of the world, of the necessity of +protection, of the chances the years might bring. Scarcely conscious of +what he did--so eagerly was his mind engaged--he opened a drawer and +locked the letter in. Then he went hastily into the other room. + +"Evelyn," said he, "will you take my place, like a good fellow? I shall +be back as soon as I can. Waters will get you everything you want." + +"But about Wolverhampton, Mr. Brand?" shouted Humphreys after him. + +There was no answer; he was half-way down the stairs. + +When the hansom arrived in Curzon Street a hurried glance showed him +that the dining-room was lit up. She was at home, then: that was enough. +For the rest, he was not going to trouble himself with formalities when +so beautiful a prize might still be within his reach. + +He knocked at the door; the little Anneli appeared. + +"Anneli," said he, "I want to see Miss Lind for a moment--say I shall +not detain her, if there is any one with her--" + +"They are in the dining-room, sir; Madame Potecki, and a strange +gentleman--" + +"Ask your mistress to let me see her for one moment; don't you +understand?" + +"They are just finishing dinner, sir: if you will step up to the +drawing-room they will be there in a minute or two." + +But at last he got the little German maid to understand that he wished +to see Miss Lind alone for the briefest possible time; and that she was +to carry this message in an undertone to her mistress. By himself he +made his way up-stairs to the drawing-room; the lamps were lit. + +He lifted books, photographs, and what not, with trembling fingers, and +put them down again without knowing it. He was thinking, not looking. +And he was trying to force himself into a masterful mood. She was only a +child, he kept repeating to himself--only a child, who wanted guidance, +instruction, a protecting hand. It was not her fancies, however generous +and noble, that should shape the destinies of two lives. A beautiful +child, ignorant of the world and its evil: full of dreams of impossible +and unnecessary self-sacrifice, she was not one to ordain; surely her +way in life was to be led, and cherished, and loved, trusting to the +stronger hand for guidance and safety. + +There was a slight rustle outside, and presently Natalie entered the +room. She was pale--perhaps she looked all the paler that she wore the +long, sweeping black dress she had worn at Lady Evelyn's. In silence she +gave him her hand; he took it in both his. + +"Natalie!" + +It was a cry of entreaty, almost of pain; for this fond vision of his of +her being only a child, to be mastered and guided, had fled the moment +he caught sight of this tall and beautiful woman, whose self-command, +despite that paleness and a certain apprehension in the dark eyes, was +far greater than his own. + +"Natalie, you must give me a clearer answer." + +He tried to read the answer in her eyes; but she lowered them as she +spoke. + +"Was not my answer clear?" she said, gently. "I wished not to give you +pain." + +"But was all your answer there?" he said quickly. "Were there no other +reasons? Natalie! don't you know that, if you regretted your decision +ever so little--if you thought twice about it--if even now you can give +me leave to hope that one day you will be my wife--there were no reasons +at all in your letter for your refusing--none at all? If you love me +even so little that you regret--" + +"I must not listen to you," she said hurriedly. "No, no. My answer was +best for us both. I am sorry if it pains you; but you have other things +to think of; we have our separate duties in the world--duties that are +of first importance. My dear friend," she continued, with an air of +appeal, "don't you see how I am situated? I have no one to advise +me--not even my father, though I can guess what he would say. I know +what he would say; and my heart tells me that I have done right." + +"One word," said he. "This you must answer me frankly. Is there no +other reason for your refusal? Is your heart free to choose?" + +She looked up and met his eyes for a moment: only for a moment. + +"I understand you," she said, with some slight color mounting to the +pale clear olive of her brow. "No, there is not any reason like that." + +A quick, proud light leaped into his eyes. + +"Then," said he, "I refuse to accept your refusal. Natalie, you will be +my wife!" + +"Oh, do not say that--do not think of it. I have done wrong even to +listen, to let you speak--" + +"But what I say is true. I claim you, as surely as I now hold your +hand--" + +"Hush!" + +There were two people coming into the room; he did not care if there +were a regiment. He relinquished her hand, it is true; but there was a +proud and grateful look on his face; he did not even turn to regard the +new-comers. + +These were Madame Potecki and Calabressa. The little Polish lady had +misconstrued Natalie's parting words to mean that some visitors had +arrived, and that she and Calabressa were to follow when they pleased. +Now that they had appeared in the drawing-room, they could not fail to +perceive how matters stood, and, in fact, the little gentlewoman was on +the point of retiring. But Natalie was quite mistress of the situation. +She reminded Madame Potecki that she had met Mr. Brand before. She +introduced Calabressa to the stranger, saying that he was a friend of +her father's. + +"It is opportune--it is a felicitous circumstance," said Calabressa, in +his nasal French. "Mademoiselle, behold the truth. If I do not have a +cigarette after my food, I die--veritably I die! Now your friend, the +friend of the house, surely he will take compassion on me; and we will +have a cigarette together in some apartment." + +Here he touched Brand's elbow, having sidled up to him. On any other +occasion Brand would have resented the touch, the invitation, the mere +presence of this theatrical-looking albino. But he was not in a captious +mood. How could he refuse when he heard Natalie say, in her soft, low +voice, + +"Will you be so kind, Mr. Brand? Anneli will light up papa's little +smoking-room." + +Directly afterward he found himself in the small study, alone with this +odd-looking person, whom he easily recognized as the stranger who had +been walking in the Park with Natalie in the morning. Closer inspection +rendered him less afraid of this rival. + +Calabressa rolled a cigarette between his fingers, and lit it. + +"I ask your pardon, monsieur. I ask your pardon beforehand. I am about +to be impertinent; it is necessary. If you will tell me some things, I +will tell you some things which it may be better for you to know. First, +then, I assume that you wish to marry that dear child, that beautiful +young lady up-stairs." + +"My good friend, you are a little bit too outrageous," said Brand. + +"Ah! Then I must begin. You know, perhaps, that the mother of this young +lady is alive?" + +"Alive!" + +"I perceive you do not know," said Calabressa, coolly. "I thought you +would know--I thought you would guess. A child might guess. She told me +you had seen the locket--_Natalie to Natalushka_--was not that enough?" + +"If Miss Lind herself did not guess that her mother was alive, how +should I?" + +"If you have been brought up for sixteen or eighteen years to mourn one +as dead, you do not quickly imagine that he or she is not dead: you +perceive?" + +"Well, it is extraordinary enough," said Brand, thoughtfully. "With such +a daughter, if she has the heart of a mother at all, how could she +remain away from her for sixteen years?" + +A thought struck him, and his forehead colored quickly. + +"There was no disgrace?" + +At this word Calabressa started, and the small eyes flashed fire. + +"I tell you, monsieur, that it is not in my presence that any one must +mention the word disgrace and also the name of Natalie Berezolyi. No; I +will answer--I myself--I will answer for the good name of Natalie +Berezolyi, by the bounty of Heaven!" + +He shrugged his shoulders. + +"You are ignorant--you made a mistake. And I--well, you perceive, +monsieur, that I am not ashamed to confess--I loved her; she was the +radiant light, the star of my life!" + +"La lumiere rayonnante, l'etoile de ma vie!"--the phrases sounded +ridiculous enough when uttered by this histrionic person; but even his +self-conscious gesticulation did not offend Brand. This man, at all +events, had loved the mother of Natalie. + +"Then it was some very powerful motive that kept mother and daughter +apart?" said he. + +"Yes; I cannot explain it all to you, if I quite know it all. But every +year the mother comes with a birthday present of flowers for the child, +and watches to see her once or twice; and then away back she goes to the +retreat of her father. Ah, the devotion of that beautiful saint! If +there is a heaven at all, Natalie Berezolyi will be among the angels." + +"Then you have come to tell Natalie that her mother is alive. I envy +you. How grateful the girl will be to you!" + +"I? What, I? No, truly, I dare not. And that is why I wish to speak to +you: I thought perhaps you would guess, or find out: then I say, do not +utter a word! Why do I give you this secret? Why have I sought to speak +with you, monsieur? Well, if you will not speak, I will. Something the +little Natalushka said--to me she must always be the little Natalushka +in name, though she is so handsome a woman now--something she said to me +revealed a little secret. Then I said, 'Perhaps Natalushka will have a +happier life than Natalie has had, only her husband must be discreet.' +Now, monsieur, listen to me. What I said to Natalushka I say to you: do +not thwart her father's wishes. He is a determined man, and angry when +he is opposed." + +"My good sir, other people may have an ounce or two of determination +also. You mean that I must never let Natalie know that her mother is +alive, for fear of Lind? Is that what you mean? Come, then!" + +He strode to the door, and had his hand on the handle, when Calabressa +jumped up and caught him, and interposed. + +"For Heaven's sake--for Heaven's sake, monsieur, why be so +inconsiderate, so rash?" + +"Has the dread of this man frightened you out of your wits?" + +"He is invulnerable--and implacable," said Calabressa. "But he is a good +friend when he has his own way. Why not be friends? You will have to ask +him for his daughter. Consider, monsieur, that is something." + +"Well, there is reason in that," Brand said, reflectively. "And I am +inclined to be friendly with every one to-night, Signor Calabressa. It +may be that Lind has his reasons; and he is the natural guardian of his +daughter--at present. But she might have another guardian, Signor +Calabressa?" + +"The wicked one!--she has promised herself to you? And she told me she +had no sweethearts, the rogue!" + +"No, she has not promised. But what may not one dare to hope for, when +one sees her so generous and kind? She is like her mother, is she not? +Now I am going to slip away, Signor Calabressa; when you have had +another cigarette, will you go up-stairs and explain to the two ladies +that I have three friends who are now dining at my house, and I must get +back to them?" + +Calabressa rose, and took the taller man's hand in his. + +"I think our little Natalushka is right in trusting herself to you; I +think you will be kind to her; I know you will be brave enough to +protect her. All very well. But you English are so headstrong. Why not a +little caution, a little prudence, to smooth the way through life?" + +Brand laughed: but he had taken a liking to this odd-looking man. + +"Now, good-night, Signor Calabressa. You have done me a great service. +And if Natalie's mother wishes to see her daughter--well, I think the +opportunity will come. In the mean time, I will be quite cautious and +prudent, and compromise nobody; even if I cannot wholly promise to +tremble at the name of the Invulnerable and the Implacable." + +"Ah, monsieur," said Calabressa, with a sigh, his gay gesticulation +having quite left him, "I hope I have done no mischief. It was all for +the little Natalushka. It will be so much better for you and for her to +be on good terms with Ferdinand Lind." + +"We will see," Brand said, lightly. "The people in this part of the +world generally do as they're done by." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +AT THE CULTURVEREIN. + + +On calm reflection, Calabressa gave himself the benefit of his own +approval; and, on the whole, was rather proud of his diplomacy. He had +revealed enough, and not too much; he had given the headstrong +Englishman prudent warnings and judicious counsel; he had done what he +could for the future of the little Natalushka, who was the daughter of +Natalie Berezolyi. But there was something more. + +He went up-stairs. + +"My dear little one," he said, in his queer French, "behold me--I come +alone. Your English friend sends a thousand apologies--he has to return +to his guests: is it an English custom to leave guests in such a manner? +Ah, Madame Potecki, there is a time in one's life when one does strange +things, is there not? When a farewell before strangers is +hateful--impossible; when you rather go away silently than come before +strangers and shake hands, and all the rest. What, wicked little one, +you look alarmed! Is it a secret, then? Does not madame guess anything?" + +"I entreat you, Signor Calabressa, not to speak in riddles," said +Natalie, hastily. "See, here is a telegram from papa. He will be back in +London on Monday next week. You can stay to see him, can you not?"' + +"Mademoiselle, do you not understand that I am not my own master for two +moments in succession? For this present moment I am; the next I may be +under orders. But if my freedom, my holiday, lasts--yes, I shall be glad +to see your father, and I will wait. In the mean time, I must use up my +present moment. Can you give me the address of Vincent Beratinsky?" + +She wrote it down for him; it was a number in Oxford Street. + +"Now I will add my excuses to those of the tall Englishman," said he, +rising. "Good-night, madame. Good-night, mademoiselle--truly, it is a +folly to call you the little Natalushka, who are taller than your +beautiful mother. But it was the little Natalushka I was thinking about +for many a year. Good-night, wicked little one, with your secrets!" + +He kissed her hand, bowed once more to the little Polish lady, and left. + +When, after considerable difficulty--for he was exceedingly +near-sighted--he made out the number in Oxford Street, he found another +caller just leaving. This stranger glanced at him, and instantly said, +in a low voice, + +"The night is dark, brother." + +Calabressa started; but the other gave one or two signs that reassured +him. + +"I knew you were in London, signore, and I recognized you; we have your +photograph in Lisle Street. My name is Reitzei--" + +"Ah!" Calabressa exclaimed, with a new interest, as he looked at the +pallid-faced young man. + +"And if you wish to see Beratinsky, I will take you to him. I find he +is at the Culturverein: I was going there myself." So Calabressa +suffered himself to be led away. + +At this time the Culturverein used to meet in a large hall in a narrow +lane off Oxford Street. It was an association of persons, mostly +Germans, connected in some way or other with art, music, or letters--a +merry-hearted, free-and-easy little band of people, who met every +evening to laugh and talk and joke and generally forget the world and +all its cares. The evening usually began with Bavarian beer, sonatas, +and comic lectures; then Rhine wines began to appear, and of course +these brought with them songs of love, and friendship, and patriotism; +occasionally, when the older and wiser folk had gone, sweet champagne +and a wild frolic prevailed until daylight came to drive the revellers +out. Beratinsky belonged to the Verein by reason of his having at one +time betaken himself to water-color drawing, in order to keep himself +alive. + +When Calabressa entered the large, long hall, the walls of which were +plentifully hung with sketches in color and cartoons in black and white, +the _fertig_!--_los_! period had not arrived. On the contrary, the +meeting was exceedingly demure, almost dull; for a German music +professor, seated at the piano on the platform, was playing one of his +own compositions, which, however beautiful, was of considerable length; +and his audience had relapsed into half-hushed conversation over their +light cigars and tall glasses of Bairisch. + +Beratinsky had to come along to the entrance-hall to enter the names of +his visitors in a book. He was a little man, somewhat corpulent, with +bushy black eyebrows, intensely black eyes, and black closely-cropped +beard. The head was rather handsome; the figure not. + +"Ah, Calabressa, you have come alive again!" he said, speaking in pretty +fair Italian. "We heard you were in London. What is it?" + +The last phrase was uttered in a low voice, though there was no +by-stander. But Calabressa, with a lofty gesture, replied, + +"My friend, we are not always on commissions. Sometimes we have a little +liberty--a little money--a notion in our head. And if one cannot exactly +travel _en prince_, _n'importe!_ we have our little excursion. And if +one has one's sweetheart to see? Do you know, friend Beratinsky, that I +have been dining with Natalie--the little Natalushka, as, she used to be +called?" + +Beratinsky glanced quickly at him with the black, piercing eyes. + +"Ah, the beautiful child! the beautiful child!" Calabressa exclaimed, +as if he was addressing some one not present. "The mouth sweet, +pathetic, like that in Titian's Assumption: you have seen the picture in +the Venice Academy? But she is darker than Titian's Virgin; she is of +the black, handsome Magyar breed, like her mother. You never saw her +mother, Beratinsky?" + +"No," said the other, rather surlily. "Come, sit down and have a cigar." + +"A cigarette--a cigarette and a little cognac, if you please," said +Calabressa, when the three companions had gone along to the middle of +the hall and taken their seats. "Ah, it was such a surprise to me: the +sight of her grown to be a woman, and the perfect, beautiful image of +her mother--the very voice too--I could have thought it was a dream." + +"Did you come here to talk of nothing but Lind's daughter?" said +Beratinsky, with scant courtesy. + +"Precisely," remarked Calabressa, in absolute good-humor. "But before +that a word." + +He glanced round this assemblage of foreign-looking persons, no doubt +guessing at the various nationalities indicated by physique and +complexion--Prussian, Pole, Rhinelander, Swiss, and what not. If the +company, in English eyes, might have looked Bohemian--that is to say, +unconventional in manner and costume--the Bohemianism, at all events, +was of a well-to-do, cheerful, good-humored character. There was a good +deal of talking besides the music. + +"These gentlemen," said Calabressa, in a low voice, "are they +friends--are they with us?" + +"Only one or two," said Beratinsky. + +"You do not come here to proselytize, then?" + +"One must amuse one's self sometimes," said the little, fat, +black-haired Pole, somewhat gruffly. + +"Then one must take care what one says!" + +"I presume that is generally the case, friend Calabressa." + +But Calabressa was not offended. He was interested in what was going on. + +"Par exemple," he said, in his airy way, "que vient faire la le drole?" + +The music had come to an end, and the spectacled professor had retired +amidst a thunder of applause. His successor, who had attracted +Calabressa's attention, was a gentleman who had mounted on a high easel +an immense portfolio of cartoons roughly executed in crayon; and as he +exhibited them one by one, he pointed out their characteristics with a +long stick, after the manner of a showman. His demeanor was serious; his +face was grave; his tone was simple and business-like. But as he +unfolded these rude drawings, Calabressa, who understood but little +German, was more and more astonished to find the guttural laughter +around him increase and increase until the whole place resounded with +roars, while some of the old Herren held their sides in pain, as the +tears of the gigantic mirth streamed down their cheeks. Those who were +able hammered loud applause on the table before them; others rolled in +their chairs; many could only lie back and send their merriment up to +the reverberating roof in shrill shrieks and yells. + +"In the name of Heaven, what is it all about?" said Calabressa. "Have +the people gone mad?" + +"Illustrations of German proverbs," said Beratinsky, who, despite his +surly manner, was himself forced to smile. + +Well, Calabressa had indeed come here to talk about Lind's daughter; but +it was impossible, amidst this wild surging to and fro of Olympian +laughter. At last, however, the showman came to an end of his cartoons, +and solemnly made his bow, and amidst tumultuous cheering resumed his +place among his companions. + +There was a pause, given over to chatter and joking, and Calabressa +quickly embraced this opportunity. + +"You are a friend of the little Natalushka--of the beautiful Natalie, I +should say, perhaps?" + +"Lind's daughter does not choose to have many friends," said Beratinsky, +curtly. + +This was not promising; and, indeed, the corpulent little Pole showed +great disinclination to talk about the young lady who had so laid hold +of Calabressa's heart. But Calabressa was not to be denied, when it was +the welfare of the daughter of Natalie Berezolyi that was concerned. + +"Yes, yes, friend Beratinsky, of course she is very much alone. It is +rather a sad thing for a young girl to be so much alone." + +"And if she chooses to be alone?" said Beratinsky, with a sharpness that +resembled the snarl of a terrier. + +Perhaps it was to get rid of the topic that Beratinsky here joined in a +clamorous call for "Nageli! Nageli!" Presently a fresh-colored young +Switzer, laughing and blushing tremendously, went up to the platform and +took his seat at the piano, and struck a few noisy chords. It was a +Tyrolese song he sung, with a jodel refrain of his own invention: + + "Hat einer ein Schatzerl, + So bleibt er dabei, + Er nimmt sie zum Weiberl, + Und liebt sie recht treu. + Dann fangt man die Wirthschaft + Gemeinschaftlich an, + Und liebt sich, und herzt sich + So sehr als man kann!" + +Great cheering followed the skilfully executed jodel. In the midst of +it, one of the members rose and said, in German, + +"Meine Herren! You know our good friend Nageli is going to leave us; +perhaps we shall not see him again for many years. I challenge you to +drink this toast: 'Nageli, and his quick return!' I say to him what some +of the shopkeepers in our Father-land say to their customers, 'Kommen +Sie bald wieder!'" + +Here there was a great shouting of "Nageli! Nageli!" until one started +the chorus, which was immediately and sonorously sung by the whole +assemblage, + + "Hoch soll er leben! + Hoch soll er leben! + Dreimal hoch!" + +Another pause, chiefly devoted to the ordering of Hochheimer and the +lighting of fresh cigars. The souls of the sons of the Father-land were +beginning to warm. + +"Friend Beratinsky," said the anxious-hearted albino, "perhaps you know +that many years ago I knew the mother of Natalie Lind; she was a +neighbor--a companion--of mine: and I am interested in the little one. A +young girl sometimes has need of friends. Now, you are in a position--" + +"Friend Calabressa, you may save your breath," said the other, coldly. +"The young lady might have had my friendship if she had chosen. She did +not choose. I suppose she is old enough--and proud enough--to choose her +own friends. Yes, yes, friend Calabressa, I have heard. But we will say +nothing more: now listen to this comical fellow." + +Calabressa was not thinking of the young Englishman who now sat down at +the piano; a strange suspicion was beginning to fill his mind. Was it +possible, he began inwardly to ask, that Vincent Beratinsky had himself +aspired to marry the beautiful Hungarian girl? + +This good-looking young English fellow, with a gravity equal to that of +the sham showman, explained to his audience that he was composing an +operetta, of which he would give them a few passages. He was a skilful +pianist. He explained, as his fingers ran up and down the keys, that the +scene was in Ratcliffe Highway. A tavern: a hornpipe. Jack ashore. +Unseemly squabbles: here there were harsh discords and shrill screams. +Drunkenness: the music getting very helpless. Then the daylight +comes--the chirping of sparrows--Jack wanders out--the breath of the +morning stirs his memories--he thinks of other days. Then comes in +Jack's song, which neither Calabressa nor any one else present could say +was meant to be comic, or pathetic, or a demoniac mixture of both. The +accompaniment which the handsome young English fellow played was at once +rhythmical, and low and sad, like the wash of waves: + + "Oh, the days were long, + And the summers were long, + When Jane and I went courtin'; + The hills were blue beyond the sky; + The heather was soft where we did lie; + We kissed our fill, did Jane and I, + When Jane and I went courtin'. + + "When Jane and I went courtin', + Oh, the days were long, + And the summers were long! + We walked by night beyond the quay; + Above, the stars; below, the sea; + And I kissed Jane, and Jane kissed me, + When Jane and I went courtin'. + + "But Jane she married the sodger-chap; + An end to me and my courtin'. + And I took ship, and here I am; + And where I go, I care not a damn-- + Rio, Jamaica, Seringapatam-- + Good-bye to Jane and the courtin'." + +This second professor of gravity was abundantly cheered too when he rose +from the piano; for the music was quaint and original with a sort of +unholy, grotesque pathos running through it. Calabressa resumed: + +"My good Beratinsky, what is it that you have heard?" + +"No matter. Natalie Lind has no need of your good offices, Calabressa. +She can make friends for herself, and quickly enough, too." + +Calabressa's eyes were not keen, but his ears were; he detected easily +the personal rancor in the man's tone. + +"You are speaking of some one: the Englishman?" + +Beratinsky burst out laughing. + +"Listen, Reitzei! Even my good friend Calabressa perceives. He, too, +has encountered the Englishman. Oh yes, we must all give way to him, +else he will stamp on our toes with his thick English boots. You, +Reitzei: how long is he to allow you to retain your office?" + +"Better for him if he does not interfere with me," said the younger man. +"I was always against the English being allowed to become officers. They +are too arrogant; they want everything under their direction. Take their +money, but keep them outside: that would have been my rule." + +"And this Englishman," said Beratinsky, with a smile, though there was +the light of malice in his eye, "this Englishman is not content with +wanting to have the mastery of poor devils like you and me; he also +wishes to marry the beautiful Natalie--the beautiful Natalie, who has +hitherto been as proud as the Princess Brunhilda. Now, now, friend +Calabressa, do not protest. Every one has ears, has eyes. And when papa +Lind comes home--when he finds that this Englishman has been making a +fool of him, and professing great zeal when he was only trying to steal +away the daughter--what then, friend Calabressa?" + +"A girl must marry," said Calabressa. + +"I thought she was too proud to think of such things," said the other, +scornfully. "However, I entreat you to say no more. What concern have I +with Natalie Lind? I tell you, let her make more new friends." + +Calabressa sat silent, his heart as heavy as lead. He had come with some +notion that he would secure one other--powerful, and in all of Lind's +secrets--on whom Natalie could rely, should any emergency occur in which +she needed help. But these jealous and envious taunts, these malignant +prophecies, only too clearly showed him in what relation Vincent +Beratinsky stood with regard to the daughter of Natalie Berezolyi and +the Englishman, her lover. + +Calabressa sat silent. When some one began to play the zither, he was +thinking not of the Culturverein in London, but of the dark pine woods +above the Erlau, and of the house there, and of Natalie Berezolyi as she +played in the evening. He would ask Natalushka if she, too, played the +zither. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +FIDELIO. + + +George Brand walked away from the house in Curzon Street in a sort of +bewilderment of hope and happiness and gratitude. He would even try to +accept Calabressa's well-meant counsel: why should he not be friends +with everybody? The world had grown very beautiful; there was to be no +more quarrelling in it, or envy, or malice. + +In the dark he almost ran against a ragged little child who was selling +flowers. + +"Will you buy a rose-bud, sir?" said she. + +"What?" he said, severely, "selling flowers at this time of night? Get +away home with you and get your supper, and go to bed;" but he spoiled +the effect of his sharp admonition by giving the girl all the silver he +had in his pocket. + +He found the little dinner-party in a most loquacious mood. O'Halloran +in especial was in full swing. The internal economy of England was to be +readjusted. The capital must be transferred to the centre of the real +wealth and brain-power of the country--that is to say, somewhere about +Leeds or Manchester. This proposition greatly pleased Humphreys, the man +from the North, who was quite willing to let the Royal Academy, the +South Kensington and National Galleries, and the British Museum remain +in London, so long as the seat of government was transferred to +Huddersfield or thereabouts. But O'Halloran drew such a harrowing +picture of the effect produced on the South of England intellect by its +notorious and intense devotion to the arts, that Humphreys was almost +convicted of cruelty. + +However, if these graceless people thought to humbug the hard-headed man +from the North, he succeeded on one occasion in completely silencing his +chief enemy, O'Halloran. That lover of paradox and idle speculation was +tracing the decline of superstition to the introduction of the use of +steam, and was showing how, wherever railways went in India, ghosts +disappeared; whereupon the Darlington man calmly retorted that, as far +as he could see, the railways in this country were engaged in making as +many ghosts as they could possibly disperse in India. This flank attack +completely surprised and silenced the light skirmisher, who sought +safety in lighting another cigar. + +More serious matters, however, were also talked about, and Humphreys +was eager that Brand should go down to Wolverhampton with him next +morning. Brand pleaded but for one day's delay. Humphreys reminded him +that certain members of the Political Committee of the Trades-union +Congress would be at Wolverhampton, and that he had promised to see +them. After that, silence. + +At last, as Humphreys and O'Halloran were leaving, Brand said, with an +effort, + +"No, it is no use, Humphreys. I _must_ remain in London one more day. +You go down to-morrow; I shall come by the first train next morning. +Molyneux and the others won't be leaving for some days." + +"Very well, sir; good-night, sir." + +Brand returned into the room, and threw himself into an easy-chair; his +only companion now was his old friend Evelyn. + +The younger man regarded him. + +"I can tell the whole story, Brand; I have been reading it in your face. +You were troubled and perplexed before you got that letter. It gave some +hope. Off you went to see Natalie; you came back with something in your +manner that told me you had seen her and had been received favorably. +Now it is only one more day of happiness you hunger for, before going up +to the hard work of the North. Well, I don't wonder. But, at the same +time, you look a little too restless and anxious for a man who has just +won such a beautiful sweetheart." + +"I am not so lucky as that, Evelyn," said he, absently. + +"What, you did not see her?" + +"Oh yes, I saw her; and I hope. But of course one craves for some full +assurance when such a prize is within reach; and--and I suppose one's +nerves are a little excited, so that you imagine possibilities and +dangers--" + +He rose, and took a turn up and down the room. + +"It is the old story, Evelyn. I distrust Lind." + +"What has that to do with it?" + +"As you say, what has that to do with it? If I had Natalie's full +promise, I should care for nothing. She is a woman; she is not a school +girl, to be frightened. If I had only that, I should start off for the +North with a light heart." + +"Why not secure it, then?" + +"Perhaps it is scarcely fair to force myself on her at present until her +father returns. Then she will be more her own mistress. But the doubt--I +don't know when I may be back from the North--" At last he stopped +short. "Yes, I will see her to-morrow at all hazards." + +By-and-by he began to tell his friend of the gay-hearted old albino he +had encountered at Lind's house; though in the mean time he reserved to +himself the secret of Natalie's mother being alive. + +"Lind must have an extraordinary faculty," he said at length, "of +inspiring fear, and of getting people to obey him." + +"He does not look a ferocious person," Lord Evelyn said, with a smile. +"I have always found him very courteous and pleasant--frank, amiable, +and all the rest of it." + +"And yet here is this man Calabressa, an old friend of his; and he talks +of Lind with a sort of mysterious awe. He is not a man whom you must +think of thwarting. He is the Invulnerable, the Implacable. The fact is, +I was inclined to laugh at my good friend Calabressa; but all the same, +it was quite apparent that the effect Lind had produced on his mind was +real enough." + +"Well, you know," said Lord Evelyn, "Lind has a great organization to +control, and he must be a strict disciplinarian. It is the object of his +life; everything else is of minor importance. Even you confess that you +admire his tremendous power of work." + +"Yes, I do. I admire his administrative capacity; it is wonderful. But I +don't believe for a moment that it was his mind that projected this big +scheme. That must have been the work of an idealist, perhaps of a dozen +of them, all adding and helping. I think he almost said as much to me +one night. His business is to keep the machinery in working order, and +he does it to perfection." + +"There is one thing about him: he never forgets, and he never forgives. +You remember the story of Count Verdt?" + +"I have cause to remember it. I thought for a moment the wretch had +committed suicide because I caught him cheating." + +"I have been told that Lind played with that fellow like a cat with a +mouse. Verdt got hints from time to time that his punishment as a +traitor was overtaking him; and yet he was allowed to live on in +constant fear. And it was the Camorra, and not Lind, or any of Lind's +friends, who finished him after all." + +"Well, that was implacable enough, to be sure; to have death dogging the +poor wretch's heels, and yet refusing to strike." + +"For myself, I don't pity him much," said Lord Evelyn, as he rose and +buttoned his coat. "He was a fool to think he could play such a trick +and escape the consequences. Now, Brand, how am I to hear from you +to-morrow? You know I am in a measure responsible." + +"However it ends, I am grateful to you, Evelyn; you may be sure of that. +I will write to you from Wolverhampton, and let you know the worst, or +the best." + +"The best, then: we will have no worsts." + +He said good-bye, and went whistling cheerfully down the narrow oak +staircase. He at least was not very apprehensive about the results of +the next day's interview. + +But how brief was this one day, with its rapidly passing opportunities; +and then the stern necessity for departure and absence. He spent half +the night in devising how best he could get speech of her, in a +roundabout fashion, without the dread of the interference of friends. +And at last he hit upon a plan which might not answer; but he could +think of nothing else. + +He went in the morning and secured a box at Covent Garden for that +evening. Then he called at Lisle Street, and got Calabressa's address. +He found Calabressa in his lodgings, shivering and miserable, for the +day was wet, misty, and cold. + +"You can escape from the gloom of our climate, Signor Calabressa," said +he. "What do you say to going to the opera to-night?" + +"Your opera?" said he, with a gesture indicative of still deeper +despair. "You forget I come from the home, the nursery of opera." + +"Yes," said Brand, good-naturedly. "Great singers train in your country, +but they sing here: that is the difference. Do not be afraid; you will +not be disappointed. See, I have brought you a box; and if you want +companions, why not ask Miss Lind and Madame Potecki to go with you and +show you the ways of our English opera-houses?" + +"Ah, the little Natalushka!" said Calabressa, eagerly. "Will she go? Do +you think she will go? _Ma foi_, it is not often I have the chance of +taking such a beautiful creature to the opera, if she will go! What must +I do?" + +"You will have to go and beg her to be kind to you. Say you have the +box--you need not mention how: ask if she will escort you, she and +Madame Potecki. Say it is a kindness: she cannot help doing a kindness." + +"There you are right, monsieur: do not I see it in her eyes? can I not +hear it in her voice?" + +"Well, that you must do at once, before she goes out for her walk at +noon." + +"To go out walking on a day like this?" + +"She will go out, nevertheless; and you must go and intercept her, and +pray her to do you this kindness." + +"_Apres?_" + +"You must come to me again, and we will get an English evening costume +for you somehow. Then, two bouquets; I will get those for you, and send +them to them to the box to await you." + +"But you yourself, monsieur; will you not be of the party?" + +"Perhaps you had better say nothing about me, signore; for one is so +busy nowadays. But if I come into the stalls; if I see you and the +ladies in the box, then I shall permit myself to call upon you; do you +understand?" + +"Parfaitement," said Calabressa, gravely. Then he laughed slightly. "Ah, +monsieur, you English are not good diplomatists. I perceive that you +wish to say more; that you are afraid to say more; that you are anxious +and a little bit demure, like a girl. What you wish is this, is it not: +if I say to Madame Potecki, 'Madame, I am a stranger; will you show me +the promenade, that I may behold the costumes of the beautiful English +ladies?' madame answers, 'Willingly.' We go to see the costumes of the +beautiful English ladies. Why should you come? You would not leave the +young lady all alone in the box?" + +"Calabressa," he said, frankly, "I am going away to-morrow morning: do +you understand that?" + +Calabressa bowed gravely. + +"To comprehend that is easy. Allons, let us play out the little plot for +the amusement of that rogue of a Natalushka. And if she does not thank +me--eh bien! perhaps her papa will: who knows?" + +Before the overture began that evening, Brand was in his seat in the +stalls; and he had scarcely sat down when he knew, rather than saw, that +certain figures were coming into the box which he had been covertly +watching. The opera was _Fidelio_--that beautiful story of a wife's +devotion and courage, and reward. As he sat and listened, he knew she +was listening too; and he could almost have believed it was her own +voice that was pleading so eloquently with the jailer to let the poor +prisoner see the light of day for a few minutes in the garden. Would not +that have been her prayer, too, in similar circumstances? Then Leonora, +disguised as a youth, is forced to assist in the digging of her own +husband's grave, Pizarro enters; the unhappy prisoners are driven back +to their cells and chains, and Leonora can only call down the vengeance +of Heaven on the head of the tyrant. + +At the end of the act Brand went up to the box and tapped outside. It +was opened from within, and he entered. Natalie turned to receive him; +she was a little pale, he thought; he took a seat immediately behind +her; and there was some general talk until the opening of the second act +restored silence. + +For him it was a strange silence, that the music outside did not +disturb. Sitting behind her, he could study the beautiful profile and +the outward curve of her dark eyelashes; he could see where here and +there a delicate curl of the raven-black hair, escaping from the mob-cap +of rose-red silk, lay about the small ear or wandered down to the +shapely white neck; he could almost, despite the music, fancy he heard +her breathe, as the black gossamer and scarlet flowers of an Indian +shawl stirred over the shining satin dress. Her fan and handkerchief +were perfumed with white-rose. + +And to-morrow he would be in Wolverhampton, amidst grimy streets and +dirty houses, in a leaden-hued atmosphere laden with damp and the fumes +of chimneys, practically alone, with days of monotonous work before him, +and solitary evenings to be spent in cheerless inns. What wonder if this +seemed some brief vision of paradise--the golden light and glowing +color, the soft strains of music, the scent of white-rose? + +Doubtless Natalie had seen this opera of Fidelio many a time before; but +she was always intently interested in music; and she had more than once +expressed in Brand's hearing her opinion of the conduct of the ladies +and gentlemen who make an opera, or a concert, or a play a mere adjunct +to their own foolish laughter and tittle-tattle. She recognized the +serious aims of a great artist; she listened with deep attention and +respect; she could talk idly elsewhere and at other times. And so there +was scarcely a word said--except of involuntary admiration--as the opera +proceeded. But in the scene where the disguised wife discovers her +husband in the prison--where, as Pizarro is about to stab him, she +flings herself between them to protect him--Brand could see that Natalie +Lind was fast losing her manner of calm and critical attention, and +yielding to a profounder emotion. When Leonora reveals herself to her +husband, and swears that she will save him, even such a juncture, from +his vindictive enemy-- + + "Si, si, mio dolce amico, + La tua Eleonora ti salvera; + Affronto il suo furor!" + +the girl gave a slight convulsive sob, and her hands were involuntarily +clasped. Then, as every one knows, Leonora draws a pistol from her bosom +and confronts the tyrant; a trumpet is heard in the distance; relief is +near; and the act winds up with the joyful duet between the released +husband and the courageous wife--"_Destin, destin ormai felice!_" + +Here it was that Calabressa proposed he should escort Madame Potecki to +the cooler air of the large saloon; and madame, who had been young +herself, and guessed that the lovers might like to be alone for a few +minutes, instantly and graciously acquiesced. But Natalie rose also, a +little quickly, and said that Madame Potecki and herself would be glad +to have some coffee; and could that be got in the saloon? + +Madame Potecki and her companion led the way; but then Brand put his +hand on the arm of Natalie and detained her. + +"Natalie!" he said, in a low and hurried voice, "I am going away +to-morrow. I don't know when I shall see you again. Surely you will give +me some assurance--some promise, something I can repeat to myself. +Natalie, I know the value of what I am asking; you will give yourself to +me?" + +She stood by the half-shut door, pale, irresolute, and yet outwardly +calm. Her eyes were cast down; she held her fan firmly with both hands. + +"Natalie, are you afraid to answer?" + +Then the young Hungarian girl raised her eyes, and bravely regarded him, +though her face was still pale and apprehensive. + +"No," she said, in a low voice. "But how can I answer you more than +this--that if I am not to give myself to you I will give myself to no +other? I will be your wife, or the wife of no one. Dear friend, I can +say no more." + +"It is enough." + +She went quickly to the front of the box; in both bouquets there were +forget-me-nots. She hurriedly selected some, and returned and gave them +to him. + +"Whatever happens, you will remember that there was one who at least +wished to be worthy of your love." + +Then they followed their friends into the saloon, and sat down at a +small table, though Natalie's hands were trembling so that she could +scarcely undo her gloves. And George Brand said nothing; but once or +twice he looked into his wife's eyes. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +FATHER AND DAUGHTER. + + +When Ferdinand Lind told Calabressa that Natalie had grown to be a +woman, he no doubt meant what he said; but he himself had not the least +notion what the phrase implied. He could see, of course, that she had +now a woman's years, stature, self-possession; but, for all that, she +was still to him only a child--only the dark-eyed, gentle, obedient +little Natalushka, who used to be so proud when she was praised for her +music, and whose only show of resolution was when she set to work on the +grammar of a new language. Indeed, it is the commonest thing in the +world for a son, or a daughter, or a friend to grow in years without +those nearest them being aware of the fact, until some chance +circumstance, some crisis, causes a revelation, and we are astounded at +the change that time has insidiously made. + +Such a discovery was now about to confront Ferdinand Lind. He was to +learn not only that his daughter had left the days of her childhood +behind her, but also that the womanhood to which she had attained was of +a fine and firm character, a womanhood that rung true when tried. And +this is how the discovery was forced on him: + +On his arrival in London, Mr. Lind drove first to Lisle Street, to pick +up letters on his way home. Beratinsky had little news about business +matters to impart; but, instead, he began--as Lind was looking at some +of the envelopes--to drop hints about Brand. It was easy to see now, he +said, why the rich Englishman was so eager to join them, and give up his +life in that way. It was not for nothing. Mr. Lind would doubtless hear +more at home; and so forth. + +Mr. Lind was thinking of other things; but when he came to understand +what these innuendoes meant, he was neither angry nor impatient. He had +much toleration for human weakness, and he took it that Beratinsky was +only a little off his head with jealousy. He was aware that it had been +Beratinsky's ambition to become his son-in-law: a project that swiftly +came to an end through the perfect unanimity of father and daughter on +that point. + +"You are a fool, Beratinsky," he said, as he tied the bundle of letters +together. "At your time of life you should not imagine that every one's +head is full of philandering nonsense. Mr. Brand has something else to +think of; besides, he has been in the midland counties all this time." + +"Has he? Who, then, was taking your daughter to dinner-parties, to +theatres--I don't know what?" + +Lind dealt gently with this madness. + +"Who told you?" + +"I have eyes and ears." + +"Put them to a better use, Beratinsky." + +Then he left, and the hansom carried him along to Curzon Street. Natalie +herself flew to the door when she heard the cab drive up: there she was +to receive him, smiling a welcome, and so like her mother that he was +almost startled. She caught his face in her two hands and kissed him. + +"Ah, why did you not let me come to meet you at Liverpool?" + +"There were too many with me, Natalie. I was busy. Now get Anneli to +open my portmanteau, and you can find out for yourself all the things I +have brought for you." + +"I do not care for them, papa; I like to have you yourself back." + +"I suppose you were rather dull, Natalushka, being all by yourself?" + +"Sometimes. But I will tell you all that has happened when you are +having breakfast." + +"I have had breakfast, child. Now I shall get through my letters, and +you can tell me all that has happened afterward." + +This was equivalent to a dismissal; so Natalie went up-stairs, leaving +her father to go into the small study, where lay another bundle of +letters for him. + +Almost the first that he opened was from George Brand; and to his +amazement he found, not details about progress in the North, but a +simple, straightforward, respectful demand to be permitted to claim the +hand of Natalie in marriage. He did not conceal the fact that this +proposal had already been made to Natalie herself; he ventured to hope +that it was not distasteful to her; he would also hope that her father +had no objections to urge. It was surely better that the future of a +young girl in her position should be provided for. As regarded by +himself, Mr. Lind's acquaintance with him was no doubt but recent and +comparatively slight; but if he wished any further and natural inquiry +into the character of the man to whom he was asked to intrust his +daughter, Lord Evelyn might be consulted as his closest friend. And a +speedy answer was requested. + +This letter was, on the whole, rather a calm and business-like +performance. Brand could appeal to Natalie, and that earnestly and +honestly enough; he felt he could not bring himself to make any such +appeal to her father. Indeed, any third person reading this letter would +have taken it to be more of the nature of a formal demand, or something +required by the conventionalities; a request the answer to which was not +of tremendous importance, seeing that the two persons most interested +had already come to an understanding. + +But Mr. Lind did not look at it in that light at all. He was at first +surprised; then vexed and impatient, rather than angry; then determined +to put an end to this nonsense at once. If he had deemed the matter more +serious, he would have sat down and considered it with his customary +fore thought; but he was merely irritated. + +"Beratinsky was not so mad as I took him to be, after all," he said to +himself. "Fortunately, the affair has not gone too far." + +He carried the open letter up-stairs, and found Natalie in the +drawing-room, dusting some pieces of Venetian glass. + +"Natalie," he said, with an abruptness that startled her, and in a tone +of anger which was just a little bit affected--"Natalie, what is the +meaning of this folly?" + +She turned and regarded him. He held the open letter in his hand. She +said, calmly, + +"I do not understand you." + +This only vexed him the more. + +"I ask you what you have been doing in my absence?" he said, angrily. +"What have you been doing to entitle any man to write me such a letter +as this? His affection! your future!--has he not something else to think +of? And you--you seem not to have been quite so dull when I was away, +after all! Well, it is time to have an end of it. Whatever nonsense may +have been going on, I hope you have both of you come to your senses. Let +me hear no more of it!" + +Now she saw clearly what the letter must contain--what had stirred her +father to such an unusual exhibition of wrath. She was a little pale, +but not afraid. There was no tremor in her voice as she spoke. + +"I am sorry, papa, you should speak to me like that. I think you forget +that I am no longer a child. I have done nothing that I am ashamed of; +and if Mr. Brand has written to you, I am willing to share the +responsibility of anything he says. You must remember, papa, that I am a +woman, and that I ought to have a voice in anything that concerns my own +happiness." + +He looked at her almost with wonder, as if he did not quite recognize +her. Was this the gentle-natured little Natalushka, whose eyes would +fill with tears if she was scolded even in fun?--this tall, +self-possessed girl with the pale face, and the firm and even tones? + +"Do you mean to tell me, Natalie, that it is with your consent Brand has +written to me?" her father asked, with frowning brows. + +"I did not know he would write. I expected he would." + +"Perhaps," said he, with an ironical smile, "perhaps you have taken time +by the forelock, and already promised to be his wife?" + +The answer was given with the same proud composure. + +"I have not. But I have promised, if I am not his wife, never to be the +wife of any other man." + +It was now that Lind began to perceive how serious this matter was. This +was no school-girl, to be frightened out of a passing fancy. He must +appeal to the reason of a woman; and the truth is, that if he had known +he had this to undertake, he would not so hastily have gone into that +drawing-room with the open letter in his hand. + +"Sit down Natalie," he said, quite gently. "I want to talk to you. I +spoke hastily; I was surprised and angry. Now let us see calmly how +matters stand; I dare say no great harm has been done yet." + +She took a seat opposite him; there was not the least sign of any +girlish breaking down, even when he spoke to her in this kind way. + +"I have no doubt you acted quite rightly and prudently when I was away; +and as for Mr. Brand, well, any one can see that you have grown to be a +good-looking young woman, and of course he would like to have a +good-looking young wife to show off among the country people, and to go +riding to hounds with him. Let us see what is involved in your becoming +his wife, supposing that were ever seriously to be thought of. You give +up all your old sympathies and friends, your interest in the work we +have on hand, and you get transferred to a Buckinghamshire country-house +to take the place of the old house-keeper. If you do not hear anything +of what is going on--of our struggles--of your friends all over +Europe--what of that? You will have the kitchen-garden to look after, +and poultry to feed; and your neighbors will talk to you at dinner about +foxes and dogs and horses and the clergyman's charities. It will be a +healthy life, Natalie: perhaps you will get stout and rosy, like an +English matron. But your old friends--you will have forgotten them." + +"Never!--never!" she said, vehemently; and, despite herself, her eyes +filled with tears. + +"Then we will take Mr. Brand. The Buckinghamshire house is open again. +An Englishman's house is his castle; there is a great deal of work in +superintending it, its entertainments, its dependents. Perhaps he has a +pack of foxhounds; no doubt he is a justice of the peace, and the terror +of poachers. But in the midst of all this hunting, and giving of +dinner-parties, and shooting of pheasants, do you think he has much time +or thought for the future of the millions of poor wretches all over +Europe who once claimed his care? Not much! That was in his days of +irresponsible bachelorhood. Now he is settled down--he is a country +gentleman. The world can set itself right without him. He is anxious +about the price of wheat." + +"Ah, how you mistake him, papa!" said she, proudly. And there was a +proud light on her face too as she rose and quickly went to a small +escritoire close by. A few seconds sufficed her to write a short note, +which she brought back to her father. + +"There," said she, "I will abide by that test. If he says 'yes,' I will +never see him again--never speak one word to him again." + +Her father took the note and read it. It was as follows: + +"My Dear Friend,--I am anxious about the future for both of us. If you +will promise me, now and at once, to give up the work you are engaged +in, I will be your wife, when and where you will. + + NATALIE." + +"Send it!" she said, proudly. "I am not afraid. If he says 'yes,' I will +never see him again." + +The challenge was not accepted. He tore the note in two and flung it +into the grate. + +"It is time to put an end to this folly," he said impatiently. "I have +shown you what persistence in it would bring on yourself. You would be +estranged from everything and every one you have hitherto been +interested in; you would have to begin a new life, for which you are not +fitted; you would be the means of doing our cause an irreparable injury. +Yes, I say so frankly. The withdrawal of this man Brand, which would +certainly follow, sooner or later, on his marriage, would be a great +blow to us. We have need of his work; we have still more need of his +money. And it is you, you of all people in the world, who would be the +means of taking him away from us!" + +"But it is not so, papa," she said in great distress. "Surely you do not +think that I am begging to be allowed to become his wife? That is for +him to decide; I will follow his wishes as far as I can--as far as you +will allow me, papa. But this I know, that, so far from interfering with +the work he has undertaken, it would only spur him on. Should I have +thought of it otherwise? Ah, surely you know--you have said so to me +yourself--he is not one to go back." + +"He is an Englishman; you do not understand Englishmen," her father +said; and then he added, firmly, "You are not to be deterred by what may +happen to yourself. Well, consider what may happen to him. I tell you I +will not have this risk run. George Brand is too valuable to us. If you +or he persist in this folly, it will be necessary to provide against all +contingencies by procuring his banishment." + +"Banishment!" she exclaimed, with a quick and frightened look. + +"That may not sound much to you," said her father, calmly, "for you have +scarcely what may be called a native country. You have lived anywhere, +everywhere. It is different with an Englishman, who has his birthplace, +his family estate, his friends in England." + +"What do you mean, papa?" said she, in a low voice. She had not been +frightened by the fancy picture he had drawn of her own future, but this +ominous threat about her lover seemed full of menace. + +"I say that, at all hazards," Lind continued, looking at her from under +the bushy eyebrows, "this folly must be brought to an end. It is not +expedient that a marriage between you and Mr. Brand should even be +thought of. You have both got other duties, inexorable duties. It is my +business to see that nothing comes in the way of their fulfilment. Do +you understand?" + +She sat dumb now, with a vague fear about the future of her lover; for +herself she had no fear. + +"Some one must be sent to Philadelphia, to remain there probably for his +lifetime. Do not drive me to send George Brand." + +"Papa!" It was a cry of appeal; but he paid no heed. This matter he was +determined to settle at once. + +"Understand, this idle notion must be dropped; otherwise George Brand +goes to the States forthwith, and remains there. Fortunately, I don't +suppose the matter has gone far enough to cause either of you any deep +misery. This is not what one would call a madly impassioned letter." + +She scarcely perceived the sneer; some great calamity had befallen her, +of which she as yet scarcely knew the extent; she sat mute and +bewildered--too bewildered to ask why all this thing should be. + +"That may not seem much to you," he said, in the same cold, implacable +way. "But banishment for life from his native country, his home, his +friends, is something to an Englishman. And if we are likely to lose his +work in this country through a piece of sentimental folly, we shall take +care not to lose it in America." + +She rose. + +"Is that all, papa?" + +She seemed too stunned to say any more. + +He rose also, and took her hand. + +"It is better to have a clear understanding, Natalie. Some might say +that I object to your marrying because you are a help to me, and your +going away would leave the house empty. Perhaps you may have some kind +friend put that notion into your head. But that is not the reason why I +speak firmly to you, why I show you you must dismiss this fancy of the +moment--if you have entertained it as well as he--as impossible. I have +larger interests at stake; I am bound to sacrifice every personal +feeling to my duty. And I have shown you what would be the certain +result of such a marriage; therefore, I say, such a marriage is not to +be thought of. Come, now, Natalie, you claim to be a woman: be a woman! +Something higher is wanted from you. What would all our friends think of +you if you were to sink into a position like that--the house-keeper of a +country squire?" + +She said nothing; but she went away to her own room and sat down, her +face pale, her heart like lead. And all her thought was of this possible +doom hanging over him if he persisted; and she guessed, knowing +something of him, whether he was likely to be dissuaded by a threat. + +Then, for a second or so, a wild despairing fancy crossed her mind, and +her fingers tightened, and the proud mouth grew firm. If it was through +her that this penalty of banishment overtook him, why should she not do +as others had done? + +But no--that was impossible. She had not the courage to make such an +offer. She could only sit and think; and the picture before her +imagination was that of her lover sailing away from his native land. +She saw the ship getting farther and farther away from English shores, +until it disappeared altogether in a mist of rain--and tears. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +EVASIONS. + + +It was in Manchester, whither he had gone to meet the famous John +Molyneux, that George Brand awoke on this dull and drizzly morning. The +hotel was almost full. He had been sent to the top floor; and now the +outlook from the window was dismal enough--some slated roofs, a red +chimney or two, and farther off the higher floors of a lofty warehouse, +in which the first signs of life were becoming visible. Early as it was, +there was a dull roar of traffic in the distance; occasionally there was +the scream of a railway whistle. + +Neither the morning nor the prospect was conducive to a cheerful view of +life; and perhaps that was why, when he took in his boots and found in +one of them a letter, deposited there by the chamber-maid, which he at +once saw was in Ferdinand Lind's handwriting, that he instantly assumed, +mentally, an attitude of defiance. He did not open the letter just then. +He took time to let his opposition harden. He knew there would be +something or somebody to fight. It was too much to expect that +everything should go smoothly. If there was such a thing as a law of +compensation, that beautiful dream-like evening at the opera--the light, +the color, the softened music; the scent of white-rose; the dark, soft +eyes, and the last pressure of the hand; the forget-me-nots he carried +away with him--would have to be paid for somehow. And he had always +distrusted Ferdinand Lind. His instinct assured him that this letter, +which he had been looking for and yet dreading, contained a distinct +refusal. + +His instinct was completely at fault. The letter was exceedingly kind +and suave. Mr. Lind might try to arouse his daughter from this idle +day-dream by sharp words and an ominous threat; he knew that it was +otherwise he must deal with Mr. George Brand. + + * * * * * + +"My dear Mr. Brand," he wrote, "as you may imagine, your letter has +surprised me not a little, and pleased me too for a father naturally is +proud to see his daughter thought well of; and your proposal is very +flattering; especially, I may add, as you have seen so little of +Natalie. You are very kind--and bold, and unlike English nature--to take +her and family on trust as it were; for are not your countrymen very +particular as to the relatives of those they would marry with? and of +Natalie's relatives and friends how many have you seen? Excuse me if I +do not quite explain myself; for writing in English is not as familiar +to me as to Natalie, who is quite an Englishwoman now. Very well; I +think it is kind of you to think so highly of my daughter as to offer +her to make her your wife, you knowing so little of her. But there you +do not mistake; she is worthy to be the wife of any one. If she ever +marries, I hope she will be as good a wife as she has been a daughter." + +"If she ever marries!" This phrase sounded somewhat ominous; and yet, if +he meant to say "No," why not say it at once? Brand hastily glanced over +the letter, to find something definite; but he found that would not do. +He began again, and read with deliberation. The letter had obviously +been written with care. + +"I have also to thank you, besides, for the very flattering proposal, +for your care to put this matter before me at an early time. Regarding +how little Natalie and you have seen each other, it is impossible that +either her or your affection can be so serious that it is not fair to +look on your proposal with some views as to expediency; and at an early +time one can easily control one's wishes. I can answer for my daughter +that she has always acted as I thought best for her happiness; and I am +sure that now, or at any time, in whatever emergency, she would far +prefer to have the decision rest with me, rather than take the +responsibility on herself." + +When George Brand came to this passage he read it over again; and his +comment was, "My good friend, don't be too sure of that. It is possible +that you have lived nineteen years with your daughter to very little +purpose, so far as your knowledge of her character is concerned." + +"Well, then, my dear sir," the letter proceeded, "all this being in such +a way, might I ask you to reflect again over your proposal, and examine +it from the view of expediency? You and I are not free agents, just to +please ourselves when we like. Perhaps I was wrong in my first objection +to your very flattering proposal; I believed you might, in marrying her, +withdraw from the work we are all engaged in; I feared this as a great +calamity--an injury done to many to gratify the fancy of one. But +Natalie, I will confess, scorned me for that doubt; and, indeed, was so +foolish as to propose a little hoax, to prove to me that, even if she +promised to marry you as a reward, she could not get you to abandon our +cause. 'No, no,' she said; 'that is not to be feared. He is not one to +go back.'" + +When George Brand read these words his breath came and went a little +quickly. She should not find her faith in him misplaced. + +"That is very well, very satisfactory, I said to her. We cannot afford +to lose you, whatever happens. To return; there are more questions of +expediency. For example, how can one tell what may be demanded of one? +Would it be wise for you to be hampered with a wife when you know not +where you may have to go? Again, would not the cares of a household +seriously interfere with your true devotion to your labors? You are so +happily placed! You are free from responsibilities: why increase them? +At present Natalie is in a natural and comfortable position; she has +grown accustomed to it; she is proud to know that she can be of +assistance to us; her life is not an unhappy one. But consider--a young +wife, separated from her husband perhaps by the Atlantic: in a new home, +with new duties; anxious, terrified with apprehensions: surely that is +not the change you would wish to see?" + +For a second Brand was almost frightened by this picture, and a pang of +remorse flashed through his heart. But then his common-sense reasserted +itself. Why the Atlantic? Why should they be separated? Why should she +be terrified with apprehensions? + +"As regards her future," her father continued, "I am not an old man; and +if anything were to happen to me, she has friends. Nor will I say to you +a word about myself, or my claim on her society and help; for parents +have not the right to sacrifice the happiness of their children to their +own convenience; it is so fortunate when they find, however, that there +is no dispositions on the part of the young to break those ties that +have been formed by the companionship of many years. It is this, my dear +friend and colleague, that makes me thank you for having spoken so +early; that I ask you to reconsider, and that I can advise my daughter, +without the fear that I am acting in a tyrannical manner or thwarting +any serious affection on her part. You will perceive I do not dictate. I +ask you to think over whether it is wise for your own happiness--whether +it would improve Natalie's probabilities of happiness--whether it would +interfere in some measure with the work you have undertaken--if you +continue to cherish this fancy, and let it grow on you. Surely it is +better, for a man to have but one purpose in life. Nevertheless, I am +open to conviction. + +"That reminds me that there is another matter on which I should like to +say a few words to you when there is the chance. If there is a break in +the current of your present negotiations, shall you have time to run up +to London? Only this: you will, I trust, not seek to see Natalie, or to +write to her, until we have come to an understanding. Again I thank you +for having spoken to me so early, before any mischief can have been +done. Think over what I have said, my dear friend; and remember, above +all things, where your chief duty lies. + + "Yours sincerely, Ferdinand Lind." + + * * * * * + +He read this letter over two or three times, and the more he read it the +more he was impressed with the vexatious conviction that it would be an +uncommonly difficult thing to answer it. It was so reasonable, so +sensible, so plausible. Then his old suspicions returned. Why was this +man Lind so plausible? If he objected, why did he not say so outright? +All these specious arguments: how was one to turn and twist, evading +some, meeting others; and all the time taking it for granted that the +happiness of two people's lives was to be dependent on such +logic-chopping as could be put down on a sheet of paper? + +Then he grew impatient. He would not answer the letter at all. Lind did +not understand. The matter had got far ahead of this clever +argumentation; he would appeal to Natalie herself; it was her "Yes" or +"No" that would be final; not any contest and balancing of words. There +were others he could recall, of more importance to him. He could almost +hear them now in the trembling, low voice: "_I will be your wife, or the +wife of no one. Dear friend, I can say no more._" And again, when she +gave him the forget-me-nots, "_Whatever happens, you will remember that +there was one who at least wished to be worthy of your love._" He could +remember the proud, brave look; again he felt the trembling of the hand +that timidly sought his for an instant; he could almost scent the +white-rose again, and hear the murmur of the people in the corridor. And +this was the woman, into whose eyes he had looked as if they were the +eyes of his wife, who was to be taken away from him by means of a couple +of sheets of note-paper all covered over with little specious +suggestions. + +He thrust the letter into a pocket, and hurriedly proceeded with his +dressing, for he had a breakfast appointment. Indeed, before he was +ready, the porter came up and said that a gentleman had called for him, +and was waiting for him in the coffee-room. + +"Ask him what he will have for breakfast, and let him go on. I shall be +down presently." + +When Brand did at length go down, he found that his visitor had frankly +accepted this permission, and had before him a large plate of +corned-beef, with a goodly tankard of beer. Mr. John Molyneux, although +he was a great authority among English workmen generally, and especially +among the trades-unionists of the North, had little about him of the +appearance of the sleek-haired demagogue as that person is usually +represented to us. He was a stout, yeoman-looking man, with a frosty-red +face and short silver-white whiskers; he had keen, shrewd blue eyes, and +a hand that gave a firm grip. The fact is, that Molyneux had in early +life been a farmer, and a well-to-do-farmer. But he had got smitten with +the writings of Cobbett, and he began to write too. Then he took to +lecturing--on the land laws, on Robert Owenism, on the Church of +England, but more especially on co-operation. Finding, however, that all +this pamphleteering and lecturing was playing ducks and drakes with his +farming, and being in many respects a shrewd and sensible person, he +resolved on selling out of his farm and investing the proceeds in the +government stock of America, the country of his deepest admiration. In +the end he found that he had about one hundred and fifty pounds a year, +on which he could live very comfortably, while giving up all his time +and attention to his energetic propagandism. This was the person who now +gave Brand a hearty greeting, and then took a long draught at the +tankard of ale. + +"You see, Mr. Brand," said he, looking cautiously around, and then +giving a sly wink. "I thought we might have a chat by ourselves in this +corner." + +Brand nodded; there was no one near them. + +"Now I have been considering about what you told me; and last night I +called on Professor ----, of Owens College, ye know, and I had some +further talk with him. Well, sir, it's a grand scheme--splendid; and I +don't wonder you've made such progress as I hear of. And when all the +lads are going in for it, what would they say if old John Molyneux kept +out, eh?" + +"Why, they would say he had lost some of his old pluck; that's about +what they would say, isn't it?" said Brand; though the fact was that he +was thinking a good deal more about the letter in his pocket. + +"There was one point, though, Mr. Brand, that I did not put before +either Professor ---- or yourself, and it is important. The point is, +dibs." + +"I beg your pardon," said Brand, absently; he was, in truth, recalling +the various phrases and sentences in that letter of Ferdinand Lind. + +"Dibs, sir--dibs," said the farmer-agitator, energetically. "You know +what makes the mare go. And you know these are not the best of times; +and some of the lads will be thinking they pay enough into their own +Union. That's what I want to know, Mr. Brand, before I can advise any +one. You need money; how do you get it? What's the damage on joining, +and after?" + +Brand pulled himself together. + +"Oh, money?" said he. "That need not trouble you. We exact nothing. How +could we ask people to buy a pig in a poke? There's not a working-man in +the country but would put us down as having invented an ingenious scheme +for living on other people's earnings. It is not money we want; it is +men." + +"Yes, yes," said Molyneux, looking rather puzzled. "But when you've got +the machine, you want oil, eh? The basis of everything, sir, is dibs: +what can ye do without it?" + +"We want money, certainly," Brand said. "But we do not touch a farthing +that is not volunteered. There are no compulsory subscriptions. We take +it that the more a man sees of what we are doing, and of what has to be +done, the more he will be willing to give according to his means; and so +far there has been no disappointment." + +"H'm!" said Molyneux, doubtfully. "I reckon you won't get much from our +chaps." + +"You don't know. It is wonderful what a touch of enthusiasm will do--and +emulation between the local centers. Besides, we are always having +accessions of richer folk, and these are expected to make up all +deficiencies." + +"Ah!" said the other. "I see more daylight that way. Now you, Mr. Brand, +must have been a good fat prize for them, eh?" + +The shrewd inquiring glance that accompanied this remark set George +Brand laughing. + +"I see, Mr. Molyneux, you want to get at the 'dibs' of everything. +Well, I can't enlighten you any further until you join us: you have not +said whether you will or not." + +"I will!" said the other, bringing his fist down on the table, though he +still spoke in a loud whisper. "I'm your man! In for a penny, in for a +pound!" + +"I beg your pardon," said Brand, politely, "but you are in for neither, +unless you like. You may be in for a good deal of work, though. You must +bring us men, and you will be let off both the penny and the pound. Now, +could you run up with me to London to-night, and be admitted to-morrow, +and get to know something of what we are doing?" + +"Is it necessary?" + +"In your case, yes. We want to make you a person of importance." + +So at last Molyneux agreed, and they started for London in the evening; +the big, shrew, farmer-looking man being as pleased as a child to have +certain signs and passwords confided to him. Brand made light of these +things--and, in fact, they were only such as were used among the +outsiders; but Molyneux was keenly interested, and already pictured +himself going through Europe and holding this subtle conversation with +all the unknown companions whom chance might throw in his way. + +But long ere he reached London the motion of the train had sent him to +sleep; and George Brand had plenty of time to think over that letter, +and to guess at what possible intention might lie under its plausible +phrases. He had leisure to think of other things, too. The question of +money, for example--about which Molyneux had been so curious with regard +to this association--was one on which he himself was but slightly +informed, the treasury department being altogether outside his sphere. +He did not even know whether Lind had private means, or was enabled to +live as he did by the association, for its own ends. He knew that the +Society had numerous paid agents; no doubt, he himself could have +claimed a salary, had it been worth his while. But the truth is that +"dibs" concerned him very little. He had never been extravagant; he had +always lived well within his income; and his chief satisfaction in being +possessed of a liberal fortune lay in the fact that he had not to bother +his head about money. There was one worry the less in life. + +But then George Brand had been a good deal about the world, and had seen +something of human life, and knew very well the power the possession of +money gives. Why, this very indifference, this happy carelessness about +pecuniary details, was but the consequence of his having a large fund +in the background that he could draw on at will. If he did not overvalue +his fortune, on the other hand he did not undervalue it; and he was +about the last man in the world who could reasonably have been expected +to part with it. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +A TALISMAN. + + +Natalie Lind was busy writing at the window of the drawing-room in +Curzon Street when Calabressa entered, unannounced. He had outstripped +the little Anneli; perhaps he was afraid of being refused. He was much +excited. + +"Forgive me, signorina, if I startle you," he said, rapidly, in his +native tongue; "forgive me, little daughter. We go away to-night, I and +the man Kirski, whom you saved from madness: we are ordered away; it is +possible I may never see you again. Now listen." + +He took a seat beside her; in his hurry and eagerness he had for the +moment abandoned his airy manner. + +"When I came here I expected to see you a school-girl--some one in +safe-keeping--with no troubles to think of. You are a woman; you may +have trouble; and it is I, Calabressa, who would then cut off my right +hand to help you. I said I would leave you my address; I cannot. I dare +not tell any one even where I am going. What of that? Look well at this +card." + +He placed before her a small bit of pasteboard, with some lines marked +on it. + +"Now we will imagine that some day you are in great trouble; you know +not what to do; and you suddenly, bethink yourself, 'Now it is +Calabressa, and the friends of Calabressa, who must help me--'" + +"Pardon me, signore," said Natalie, gently. "To whom should I go but to +my father, if I were in trouble? And why should one anticipate trouble? +If it were to come, perhaps one might be able to brave it." + +"My little daughter, you vex me. You must listen. If no trouble comes, +well! If it does, are you any the worse for knowing that there are many +on whom you can rely? Very well; look! This is the Via Roma in Naples." + +"I know it," said Natalie: why should she not humor the good-natured +old albino, who had been a friend of her mother's? + +"You go along it until you come to this little lane; it is the Vico +Carlo; you ascend the lane--here is the first turning--you go round, and +behold! the entrance to a court. The court is dark, but there is a lamp +burning all day; go farther in, there are wine-vaults. You enter the +wine-vaults, and say, 'Bartolotti.' You do not say, 'Is Signor +Bartolotti at home?' or, 'Can I see the illustrious Signor Bartolotti,' +but 'Bartolotti,' clear and short. You understand?" + +"You give yourself too much trouble, signore." + +"I hope so, little daughter. I hope you will never have to search for +these wine-vaults; but who knows? _Alors_, one comes to you, and says, +'What is your pleasure, signorina?' Then you ask, 'Where is Calabressa?' +The answer to that? It may be, 'We do not know;' or it may be, +'Calabressa is in prison again,' or it may be,'Calabressa is dead.' +Never mind. When Calabressa dies, no one will care less than Calabressa +himself." + +"Some one would care, signore; you have a mother." + +He took her hand. + +"And a daughter, too," he said, lightly; "if the wicked little minx +would only listen. Then you know what you must say to the man whom you +will see at the wine-vaults; you must say this, 'Brother, I come with a +message from Calabressa; it is the daughter of Natalie Berezolyi who +demands your help.' Then do you know what will happen? From the next +morning you will be under the protection of the greatest power in +Europe; a power unknown but invincible; a power that no one dares to +disobey. Ah, little one, you will find out what the friends of +Calabressa can do for you when you appeal to them!" + +He smiled proudly. + +"_Allons!_ Put this card away in a secret place. Do not show it to any +one; let no one know the name I confided to you. Can you remember it, +little daughter?" + +"Bartolotti." + +"Good! Now that is one point settled; here is the next. You do not seem +to have any portrait of your mother, my little one?" + +"Ah, no!" she exclaimed, quickly; for she was more interested now. "I +suppose my father could not bear to be reminded of his loss: if there is +any portrait, I have not seen it; and how could I ask him?" + +He regarded her for a moment, and then he spoke more slowly than +hitherto: + +"Little Natalushka, I told you I am going away; and who knows what may +happen to me? I have no money or land to leave to any one; if I had a +wife and children, the only name I could leave them would be the name of +a jailbird. If I were to leave a will behind me, it would read, 'My +heart to my beloved Italia; my curse to Austria; and my--'Ah, yes, after +all I have something to leave to the little Natalushka." + +He put his hand, which trembled somewhat, into the breast of his coat, +and brought out a small leather case. + +"I am about to give you my greatest treasure, little one; my only +treasure. I think you will value it." + +He opened the case and handed it to her; inside there was a miniature, +painted on ivory; it might have been a portrait of Natalie herself. For +some time the girl did not say a word, but her eyes slowly filled with +tears. + +"She was very beautiful signore," she murmured. + +"Ah little daughter," he said, cheerfully, "I am glad to see the +portrait in safe-keeping at last. Many a risk I have run with it; many a +time I have had to hide it. And you must hide it too; let no one see it +but yourself. But now you will give me one of your own in exchange, my +little one; and so the bargain is complete." + +She went to the small table adjoining to hunt among the photographs. + +"And lastly, one more point, Signorina Natalushka," said Calabressa, +with the air of one who had got through some difficult work. "You asked +me once to find out for you who was the lady from whom you received the +little silver locket. Well, you see, that is now out of my power. I am +going away. If you are still curious, you must ask some one else; but is +it not natural to suppose that the locket may have been stolen a great +many years ago, and at last the thief resolves to restore it? No matter; +it is only a locket." + +She returned with a few photographs for him to chose from. He picked out +two. + +"There is one for me; there is one for my old mother. I will say to her, +'Do you remember the young Hungarian lady who came to see you at Spezia? +Put on your spectacles now, and see whether that is not the same young +lady. Ah, good old mother; can you see no better than that?--that is not +Natalie Berezolyi at all; that is her daughter, who lives in England. +But she has not got the English way; she is not content when she herself +is comfortable; she thinks of others; she has an ear for voices afar +off.' That is what I shall say to the old mother." + +He put the photographs in his pocket. + +"In the mean time, my little daughter," said he, "now that our pressing +business is over, one may speak at leisure: and what of you, now? My +sight is not very good; but even my eyes can see that you are not +looking cheerful enough. You are troubled, Natalushka, or you would not +have forgotten to thank me for giving you the only treasure I have in +the world." + +The girl's pale face flushed, and she said, quickly, + +"There are some things that are not to be expressed in words, Signor +Calabressa. I cannot tell you what I think of your kindness to me." + +"Silence! do you not understand my joking? _Eh, bien_; let us understand +each other. Your father has spoken to me--a little, not much. He would +rather have an end to the love affair, _n'est ce pas_?" + +"There are some other things that are not to be spoken of," the girl +said, in a low voice, but somewhat proudly. + +"Natalushka, I will not have you answer me like that. It is not right. +If you knew all my history, perhaps you would understand why I ask you +questions--why I interfere--why you think me impertinent--" + +"Oh no, signore; how can I think that?" + +She had her mother's portrait in her hand; she was gazing into the face +that was so strangely like her own. + +"Then why not answer me?" + +She looked up with a quick, almost despairing look. + +"Because I try not to think about it," she said, hurriedly. "Because I +try to think only of my work. And now, Signor Calabressa, you have given +me something else to think about; something to be my companion when I am +alone; and from my heart I thank you." + +"But you speak as if you were in great grief, my little one. It is not +all over between you and your lover?" + +"How can I tell? What can I say?" she exclaimed; and for a moment her +eyes looked up with the appealing look of a child. "He does not write to +me. I may not write to him. I must not see him." + +"But then there may be reasons for delay and consideration, little +Natalushka; your father may have reasons. And your father did not speak +to me as if it were altogether impossible. What he said was, in effect, +'We will see--we will see.' However, let us return to the important +point: it is my advice to you--you cannot have forgotten it--that +whatever happens, whatever you may think, do not, little one, seek to go +against your father's wishes. You will promise me that?" + +"I have not forgotten, signore; but do you not remember my answer? I am +no longer a child. If I am to obey, I must have reasons for obeying." + +"What?" said he smiling. "And you know that one of our chief principles +is that obedience is a virtue in itself?" + +"I do not belong to your association, Signor Calabressa." + +"The little rebel!" + +"No, no, signore; do not drive me into a false position. I cannot +understand my father, who has always been so kind to me; it is better +not to speak of it: some day, when you come back, Signore Calabressa, +you will find it all a forgotten story. Some people forget so readily; +do they not?" + +The trace of pathetic bitterness in her speech did not escape him. + +"My child," said he, "you are suffering; I perceive it. But it may soon +be over, and your joy will be all the greater. If not, if the future has +trouble for you, remember what I have told you. _Allons donc!_ Keep up a +brave heart; but I need not say that to the child of the Berezolyis." + +He rose, and at the same moment a bell was heard below. + +"You are not going, Signore Calabressa? That must be my father." + +"Your father!" he exclaimed; and he seemed confused. Then he added, +quickly, "Ah, very well. I will see him as I go down. Our business, +little one, is finished; is it not? Now repeat to me the name I +mentioned to you." + +"Bartolotti?" + +"Excellent, excellent! And you will keep the portrait from every one's +eyes but your own. Now, farewell!" + +He took her two hands in his. + +"My beautiful child," said he, in rather a trembling voice, "may Heaven +keep you as true and brave as your mother was, and send you more +happiness. I may not see England again--no, it is not likely; but in +after-years you may sometimes think of old Calabressa, and remember that +he loved you almost as he once loved another of your name." + +Surely she must have understood. He hurriedly kissed her on the +forehead, and said, "Adieu, little daughter!" and left. And when he had +gone she sunk into the chair again, and clasped both her hands round her +mother's portrait and burst into tears. + +Calabressa made his way down-stairs, and, at the foot, ran against +Ferdinand Lind. + +"Ah, amico mio," said he, in his gay manner. "See now, we have been +bidding our adieux to the little Natalushka--the rogue, to pretend to me +she had no sweetheart! Shall we have a glass of wine, _mon capitaine_, +before we imbark?" + +"Yes, yes," said Lind, though without any great cordiality. "Come into +my little room." + +He led him into the small study, and presently there was wine upon the +table. Calabressa was exceedingly vivacious, and a little difficult to +follow, especially in his French. But Lind allowed him to rattle on, +until by accident he referred to some meeting that was shortly to take +place at Posilipo. + +"Well, now, Calabressa," said Lind, with apparent carelessness, as he +broke off a bit of biscuit and poured out a glass of wine for himself, +"I suppose you know more about the opinions of the Council now than any +one not absolutely within itself." + +"I am a humble servant only, friend Lind," he remarked, as he thrust his +fingers into the breast of his military-looking coat--"a humble servant +of my most noble masters. But sometimes one hears--one guesses--_mais a +quel propos cette question, monsieur mon camarade_?" + +Lind regarded him; and said, slowly, + +"You know, Calabressa, that some seventeen years ago I was on the point +of being elected a member of the Council." + +"I know it," said the other, with a little embarrassment. + +"You know why--though you do not know the right or the wrong of it--all +that became impossible." + +Calabressa nodded. It was delicate ground, and he was afraid to speak. + +"Well," said Lind, "I ask you boldly--do you not think I have done +enough in these sixteen or seventeen years to reinstate myself? Who else +has done a tithe of the work I have done?" + +"Friend Lind, I think that is well understood at head-quarters." + +"Very well, then, Calabressa, what do you think? Consider what I have +done; consider what I have now to do--what I may yet do. There is this +Zaccatelli business. I do not approve of it myself. I think it is a +mistake, as far as England is concerned. The English will not hear of +assassination, even though it is such a criminal as the _cardinale +affamatore_ who is to be punished. But though I do not approve, I obey. +Some one from the English section will fulfil that duty: it is something +to be considered. Then money; think of the money I have contributed. +Without English money what would have been done? when there is any new +levy wanted, it is to England--to me--they apply first; and at the +present moment their cry for money is more urgent than ever. Very well, +then, my Calabressa; what do you think of all this?" + +Calabressa seemed somewhat embarrassed. + +"Friend Lind, I am not so far into their secrets as that. Being in +prison so long, one loses terms of familiarity with many of one's old +associates, you perceive. But your claims are undoubted, my friend; yes, +yes, undoubted." + +"But what do you think, Calabressa?" he said; and that affectation of +carelessness had now gone: there was an eager look in the deep-set eyes +under the bushy eyebrows. "What do you yourself think of my chance? It +ought to be no chance; it ought to be a certainty. It is my due. I claim +it as the reward of my sixteen years' work, to say nothing of what went +before." + +"_Ah, naturellement, sans doute, tu as raison, mon camarade,_" said the +politic Calabressa, endeavoring to get out of the difficulty with a +shrug of his shoulders. "But--but--the more one knows of the Council the +more one fears prying into its secrets. No, no; I do what I am told; for +the rest my ears are closed." + +"If I were on the Council, Calabressa," said Lind, slowly, "you would be +treated with more consideration. You have earned as much." + +"A thousand thanks, friend Lind," said the other; "but I have no more +ambitions now. The time for that is past. Let them make what they can +out of old Calabressa--a stick to beat a dog with; as long as I have my +liberty and a cigarette, I am content." + +"Ah, well," said Lind, resuming his careless air, "you must not imagine +I am seriously troubled because the Council have not as yet seen fit to +think of what I have done for them. I am their obedient servant, like +yourself. Some day, perhaps, I may be summoned." + +"_A la bonne heure!_" said Calabressa, rising. "No, no more wine. Your +port-wine here is glorious--it is a wine for the gods; but a very little +is enough for a man. So, farewell, my good friend Lind. Be kind to the +beautiful Natalushka, if that other thing that I spoke of is +impossible. If the bounty of Heaven had only given me such a daughter!" + +"Kirski will meet you at the station," said Lind. "Charing Cross, you +remember; eight sharp. The train is 8.25." + +"I will be there." + +They shook hands and parted; the door was shut. Then, in the street +outside, Calabressa glanced up at the drawing-room windows just for a +second. + +"Ah, little daughter," he said to himself as he turned away, "you do not +know the power of the talisman I have given you. But you will not use +it. You will be happy; you will marry the Englishman; you will have +little children round your knee; and you will lead so busy and glad a +life, year after year, that you will never have a minute to sit down and +think of old Calabressa, or of the stupid little map of Naples he left +with you." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +AN ALTERNATIVE. + + +Once again the same great city held these two. When George Brand looked +out in the morning on the broad river, and the bridges, and the hurrying +cabs and trains and steamers, he knew that this flood of dusky sunshine +was falling also on the quieter ways of Hyde Park and semi-silent +thoroughfares adjoining. They were in the same city, but they were far +apart. An invisible barrier separated them. It was not to Curzon Street +that he directed his steps when he went out into the still, close air +and the misty sunlight. + +It was to Lisle Street that he walked; and all the way he was persuading +himself to follow Calabressa's advice. He would betray no impatience, +however specious Lind might be. He would shut down that distrust of +Natalie's father that was continually springing up in his mind. He would +be considerate to the difficulties of his position, ready to admit the +reasonableness of his arguments, mindful of the higher duties demanded +of himself. But then--but then--he bethought him of that evening at the +theatre; he remembered what she had said; how she had looked. He was not +going to give up his beautiful, proud-natured sweetheart as a mere +matter of expediency, as the conclusion of a clever bit of argument. + +When he entered Mr. Lind's room he found Heinrich Reitzei its sole +occupant. Lind had not yet arrived: the pallid-faced young man with the +_pince-nez_ was in possession of his chair. And no sooner had George +Brand made his appearance than Reitzei rose, and, with a significant +smile, motioned the new-comer to take the vacant seat he had just +quitted. + +"What do you mean?" Brand said, naturally taking another chair, which +was much nearer him. + +"Will you not soon be occupying this seat _en permanence_?" Reitzei +said, with affected nonchalance. + +"Lind has abdicated, then, I presume," said Brand, coldly: this young +man's manner had never been very grateful to him. + +Reitzei sunk into the seat again, and twirled at his little black waxed +mustache. + +"Abdicated? No; not yet," he said with an air of indifference. "But if +one were to be translated to a higher sphere?--there is a vacancy in the +Council." + +"Then he would have to live abroad," said Brand, quickly. + +The younger man did not fail to observe his eagerness, and no doubt +attributed it to a wrong cause. It was no sudden hope of succeeding to +Lind's position that prompted the exclamation; it was the possibility of +Natalie being carried away from England. + +"He would have to live in the place called nowhere," said Reitzei, with +a calm smile. "He would have to live in the dark--in the middle of the +night--everywhere and nowhere at the same moment." + +Brand was on the point of asking what would then become of Natalie, but +he forbore. He changed the subject altogether. + +"How is that mad Russian fellow getting on--Kirski? Still working?" + +"Yes; at another kind of work. Calabressa has undertaken to turn his +vehemence into a proper channel--to let off the steam, as it were, in +another direction." + +"Calabressa?" + +"Kirski has become the humble disciple of Calabressa, and has gone to +Genoa with him." + +"What folly is this!" Brand said. "Have you admitted that maniac?" + +"Certainly; such force was not to be wasted." + +"A pretty disciple! How much Russian does Calabressa know?" + +"Gathorne Edwards is with them; it is some special business. Both +Calabressa and Kirski will be capital linguists before it is over." + +"But how has Edwards got leave again from the British Museum?" + +Reitzei shrugged his shoulders. + +"I believe Lind wants to buy him over altogether. We could pay him more +than the British Museum." + +At this moment there was a sound outside of some one ascending the +stair, and directly afterward Mr. Lind entered the room. As he came in +Reitzei left. + +"How do you do, Mr. Brand?" Lind said, shaking his visitor's hand with +great warmth. "Very glad to see you looking so well; hard work does not +hurt you, clearly. I hope I have not incommoded you in asking you to run +up to London?" + +"Not at all," Brand said. "Molyneux came up with me last night." + +"Ah! You have gained him over?" + +"Quite." + +"Again I congratulate you. Well, now, since we have begun upon business, +let us continue upon business." + +He settled himself in his chair, as if for some serious talk. Brand +could not help being struck by the brisk, vivacious, energetic look of +this man; and on this morning he was even more than usually smartly +dressed. Was it his daughter who had put that flower in his button-hole? + +"I will speak frankly to you, and as clear as I can in my poor English. +You must let me say, without flattery, that we are all very indebted to +you--very proud of you; we are glad to have you with us. And now that +you see farther and farther about our work, I trust you are not +disappointed. You understand at the outset you must take so much on +trust." + +"I am not in the least disappointed; quite the reverse," Brand said; and +he remembered Calabressa, and spoke in as friendly a way as possible. +"Indeed, many a time I am sorry one cannot explain more fully to those +who are only inquiring. If they could only see at once all that is going +on, they would have no more doubt. And it is slow work with some of +them." + +"Yes, certainly; no doubt. Well, to return, if you please: it is a +satisfaction you are not disappointed; that you believe we are doing a +good work; that you go with us. Very well. You have advanced grade by +grade; you see nothing to repent of; why not take the final step?" + +"I don't quite understand you," he said, doubtfully. + +"I will explain. You have given yourself to us--your time, your labor, +your future; but the final step of self-sacrifice--is it so very +difficult? In many cases it is merely a challenge: we say, 'Show that +you can trust us even for your very livelihood. Become absolutely +dependent on us, even for your food, your drink, your clothes.' In your +case, I admit, it is something more: it is an invitation to a very +considerable self-sacrifice. All the more proof that you are not +afraid." + +"I do not think I am afraid," said Brand, slowly; "but--" + +"One moment. The affair is simple. The officers of our society--those +who govern--those from whom are chosen the members of the Council--that +Council that is more powerful than any government in Europe--those +officers, I say, are required first of all to surrender every farthing +of personal property, so that they shall become absolutely dependent on +the Society itself--" + +Brand looked a trifle bewildered: more than that, resentful and +indignant, as if his common-sense had received a shock. + +"It is a necessary condition," Lind continued, without eagerness--rather +as if he were merely enunciating a theory. "It insures absolute +equality; it is a proof of faith. And you may perceive that, as I am +alive, they do not allow one to starve." + +The slight smile that accompanied this remark was meant to be +reassuring. Certainly, Mr. Lind did not starve; if the society of which +he was a member enabled him to live as he did in Curzon Street, he had +little to complain of. + +"You mean," said George Brand, "that before I enter this highest grade, +next to the Council, I must absolutely surrender my entire fortune to +you?" + +"To the common fund of the Society--yes," was the reply; uttered as a +matter of course. + +"But there is no compulsion?" + +"Certainly not. On this point every one is free. You may remain in your +present grade if you please." + +"Then I confess to you I don't see why I should change," Brand said, +frankly. "Cannot I work as well for you just as I am?" + +"Perhaps; perhaps not," said the other, easily. "But you perceive, +further, that the fact of our not exacting subscriptions from the poorer +members of our association makes it all the more necessary that we +should have voluntary gifts from the richer. And as regards a surplus of +wealth, of what use is that to any one? Am I not granted as much money +as one need reasonably want? And just now there is more than ever a +need of money for the general purposes of the Society: Lord Evelyn gave +us a thousand pounds last week." + +Brand flushed red. + +"I wish you had told me," he said; "I would rather have given you five +thousand. You know he cannot afford it." + +"The greater the merit of the sacrifice," said his companion calmly. + +This proposal was so audacious that George Brand was still a little +bewildered; but the fact was that, while listening very respectfully to +Mr. Lind, he had been thinking more about Natalie; and it was the most +natural thing in the world that some thought of her should now +intervene. + +"Another thing, Mr. Lind," said he, though he was rather embarrassed. +"Even if I were to make such a sacrifice, as far as I am concerned; if I +were to run the risk for myself alone, that might all be very well; but +supposing I were to marry, do you think I should like my wife to run +such a risk--do you think I should be justified in allowing her? And +surely _you_ ought not to ask _me_. It is your own daughter--" + +"Excuse me, Mr. Brand," said the other, blandly but firmly. "We will +restrict ourselves to business at the present moment, if you will be so +kind. I wrote to you all that occurred to me when I had to consider your +very flattering proposal with regard to my daughter; I may now add that, +if any thought of her interfered with your decision in this matter, I +should still further regret that you had ever met." + +"You do not take the view a father would naturally take about the future +of his own daughter," said Brand, bluntly. + +Lind was not in the least moved by this taunt. + +"I should allow neither the interests of my daughter nor my own +interests to interfere with my sense of duty," said he. "Do you know me +so little? Do you know her so little? Ah, then you have much to learn of +her!" + +Lind looked at him for a second or two, and added, with a slight smile, + +"If you decide to say no, be sure I will not say a word of it to her. +No; I will still leave the child her hero in her imagination. For when I +said to her, 'Natalie, an Englishman will do a good deal for the good of +the people--he will give you his sympathy, his advice, his time, his +labor--but he will not put his hand in his pocket;' then she said, 'Ah, +but you do not understand Mr. Brand yet, papa; he is with us; he is not +one to go back.'" + +"But this abandonment of one's property is so disproportionate in +different cases--" + +"The greater the sacrifice, the greater the merit," returned the other: +then he immediately added, "But do not imagine I am seeking to persuade +you. I place before you the condition on which you may go forward and +attain the highest rank, ultimately perhaps the greatest power, in this +organization. Ah, you do not understand what that is as yet. If you +knew, you would not hesitate very long, I think." + +"But--but suppose I have no great ambition," Brand remonstrated. +"Suppose I am quite content to go on doing what I can in my present +sphere?" + +"You have already sworn to do your utmost in every direction. On this +one point of money, however, the various Councils have never departed +from the principle that there must be no compulsion. On any other point +the Council orders; you obey. On this point the voluntary sacrifice has, +as I say, all the more merit; and it is not forgotten. For what are you +doing? You are yielding up a superabundance that you cannot use, so that +thousands and thousands of the poor throughout the world may not be +called on to contribute their pence. You are giving the final proof of +your devotion. You are taking the vow of poverty and dependence, which +many of the noblest brotherhoods the world has seen have exacted from +their members at the very outset; but in your case with the difference +that you can absolutely trust to the resources of an immense +association--" + +"Yes, as far as I am concerned," Brand said, quickly. "But I ask you +whether I should be justified in throwing away this power to protect +others. May I appeal to Natalie herself? May I ask her?" + +"I am afraid, Mr. Brand," said the other, with the same mild firmness, +"I must request you in the meantime to leave Natalie out of +consideration altogether. This is a question of duty, of principle; it +must regulate our future relations with each other; pray let it stand by +itself." + +Brand sat silent for a time. There were many things to think over. He +recalled, for example, though vaguely, a conversation he had once had +with Lord Evelyn, in which this very question of money was discussed, +and in which he had said that he would above all things make sure he was +not being duped. Moreover, he had intended that his property, in the +event of his dying unmarried, should go to his nephews. But it was not +his sister's boys who were now uppermost in his mind. + +He rose. + +"You cannot expect me to give you a definite answer at once," he said, +almost absently. + +"No; before you go, let me add this," said the other, regarding his +companion with a watchful look: "the Council are not only in urgent need +of liberal funds just now, but also, in several directions, of diligent +and exceptional service. The money contribution which they demand from +England I shall be able to meet somehow, no doubt; hitherto I have not +failed them. The claim for service shall not find us wanting, either, I +hope; and it has been represented to me that perhaps you ought to be +transferred to Philadelphia, where there is much to be done at the +present moment." + +This suggestion effectually awoke Brand from his day-dream. + +"Philadelphia!" he exclaimed. + +"Yes," said the other, speaking very slowly, as if anxious that every +word should have weight. "My visit, short as it was, enabled me to see +how well one might employ one's whole lifetime there--with such results +as would astonish our good friends at head-quarters, I am sure of that. +True, the parting from one's country might be a little painful at first; +but that is not the greatest of the sacrifices that one should be +prepared to submit to. However," he added, rather more lightly, "this is +still to be decided on; meanwhile I hope, and I am sure you hope too, +Mr. Brand, that I shall be able to satisfy the Council that the English +section does not draw back when called on for its services." + +"No doubt--no doubt," Brand said; but the pointed way in which his +companion had spoken did not escape him, and promised to afford him +still further food for reflection. + +But if this was a threat, he would show no fear. + +"Molyneux wishes to get back North as soon as possible," he said, in a +matter-of-fact way, just as if talking of commonplace affairs the whole +time. "I suppose his initiation could take place to-morrow night?" + +"Certainly," said Mr. Lind, following his visitor to the door. "And you +must certainly allow me to thank you once more, my dear Mr. Brand, for +your service in securing to us such an ally. I should like to have +talked with you about your experiences in the North; but you agree with +me that the suggestion I have made demands your serious consideration +first--is it not so?" + +Brand nodded. + +"I will let you know to-morrow," said he. "Good-morning!" + +"Good-morning!" said Mr. Lind, pleasantly; and then the door was shut. + +He was attended down-stairs by the stout old German, who, on reaching +the front-door, drew forth a letter from his pocket and handed it to him +with much pretence of mystery. He was thinking of other things, to tell +the truth; and as he walked along he regarded the outside of the +envelope with but little curiosity. It was addressed, "_All' Egregio +Sigmore, Il Signor G. Brand._" + +"No doubt a begging letter from some Leicester Square fellow," he +thought. + +Presently, however, he opened the letter, and read the following +message, which was also in Italian: + +"The beautiful caged little bird sighs and weeps, because she thinks she +is forgotten. A word of remembrance would be kind, if her friend is +discreet and secret. Above all, no open strife. This from one who +departs. Farewell!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + +A FRIEND'S ADVICE. + + +This must be said for George Brand, that while he was hard and +unsympathetic in the presence of those whom he disliked or distrusted, +in the society of those whom he did like and did trust he was docile and +acquiescent as a child, easily led and easily persuaded. When he went +from Lind's chamber, which had been to him full of an atmosphere of +impatience and antagonism, to Lord Evelyn's study, and found his friend +sitting reading there, his whole attitude changed; and his first duty +was to utter a series of remonstrances about the thousand pounds. + +"You can't afford it, Evelyn. Why didn't you come to me? I would have +given it to you a dozen times over rather than you should have paid it." + +"No doubt you would," said the pale lad. "That is why I did not come to +you." + +"I wish you could get it back." + +"I would not take it back. It is little enough I can do; why not let me +give such help as I can? If only those girls would begin to marry off, I +might do more. But there is such a band of them that men are afraid to +come near them." + +"I think it would be a pity to spoil the group," said Brand. "The +country should subscribe to keep them as they are--the perfect picture +of an English family. However, to return: you must promise me not to +commit any of these extravagances again. If any appeal is made to you, +come to me." + +But here a thought seemed to strike him; + +"Ah," he said, "I have something to tell you. Lind is trying to get me +to enter the same grade of officership with himself. And do you know +what the first qualification is?--that you give up every penny you +possess in the world." + +"Well?" + +"Well!" + +The two friends stared at each other--the one calmly inquisitive, the +other astounded. + +"I thought you would have burst out laughing!" Brand exclaimed. + +"Why?" said the other. "You have already done more for them--for +us--than that: why should you not do all in your power? Why should you +not do all that you can, and while you can? Look!" + +They were standing at the window. On the other side of the street far +below them were some funeral carriages; at this precise moment the +coffin was being carried across the pavement. + +"That is the end of it. I say, why shouldn't you do all that you can, +and while you can?" + +"Do you want reasons? Well, one has occurred to me since I came into +this room. A minute ago I said to you that you must not repeat that +extravagance; and I said if you were appealed to again you could come to +me. But what if I had already surrendered every penny in the world? I +wish to retain in my own hands at least the power to help my friends." + +"That is only another form of selfishness," said Lord Evelyn, laughing. +"I fear you are as yet of weak faith, Brand." + +He turned from the light, and went and sunk into the shadow of a great +arm-chair. + +"Now I know what you are going to do, Evelyn," said his friend. "You are +going to talk me out of my common-sense; and I will not have it. I want +to show you why it is impossible I should agree to this demand." + +"If you feel it to be impossible, it is impossible." + +"My dear fellow, is it reasonable?" + +"I dislike things that are reasonable." + +"There is but one way of getting at you. Have you thought of Natalie?" + +"Ah!" said the other, quickly raising himself into an expectant +attitude. + +"You will listen now, I suppose, to reason, to common-sense. Do you +think it likely that, with the possibility of her becoming my wife, I am +going to throw away this certainty and leave her to all chances of the +world? Lind says that the Society amply provides for its officers. Very +well; that is quite probable. I tell him that I am not afraid for +myself; if I had to think of myself alone, there is no saying what I +might not do, even if I were to laugh at myself for doing it. But how +about Natalie? Lind might die. I might be sent away to the ends of the +earth. Do you think I am going to leave her at the mercy of a lot of +people whom she never saw?" + +Lord Evelyn was silent. + +"Besides, there is more than that," his friend continued, warmly. "You +may call it selfishness, if you like, but if you love a woman and she +gives her life into your hands--well, she has the first claim on you. I +will put it to you: do you think I am going to sell the +Beeches--when--when she might live there?" + +Lord Evelyn did not answer. + +"Of course I am willing to subscribe largely," his friend continued; +"and Natalie herself would say yes to that. But I am not ambitious. I +don't want to enter that grade. I don't want to sit in Lind's chair when +he gets elected to the Council, as has been suggested to me. I am not +qualified for it; I don't care about it; I can best do my own work in my +own way." + +At last Lord Evelyn spoke; but it was in a meditative fashion, and not +very much to the point. He lay back in his easy-chair, his hands clasped +behind his head, and talked; and his talk was not at all about the +selling of Hill Beeches in Buckinghamshire, but of much more abstract +matters. He spoke of the divine wrath of the reformer--what a curious +thing it was, that fiery impatience with what was wrong in the world; +how it cropped up here and there from time to time; and how one abuse +after another had been burnt up by it and swept away forever. Give the +man possessed of this holy rage all the beauty and wealth and ease in +the world, and he is not satisfied; there is something within him that +vibrates to the call of humanity without; others can pass by what does +not affect themselves with a laugh or a shrug of indifference; he only +must stay and labor till the wrong thing is put right. And how often +had he been jeered at by the vulgar of his time; how Common-Sense had +pointed the finger of scorn at him; how Respectability had called him +crazed! John Brown at Harper's Ferry is only a ridiculous old fool; his +effort is absurd; even gentlemen in the North feel an "intellectual +satisfaction" that he is hanged, because of his "preposterous +miscalculation of possibilities." Yes, no doubt; you hang him, and there +is an end; but "his soul goes marching on," and the slaves are freed! +You want to abolish the Corn-laws?--all good society shrieks at you at +first: you are a Radical, a regicide, a Judas Iscariot; but in time the +nation listens, and the poor have cheap bread. "Mazzini is mad!" the +world cries: "why this useless bloodshed? It is only political murder." +Mazzini is mad, no doubt: but in time the beautiful dream of Italy--of +"Italia, the world's wonder, the world's care"--comes true. And what +matter to the reformer, the agitator, the dreamer, though you stone him +to death, or throw him to the lions, or clap him into a +nineteenth-century prison and shut his mouth that way? He has handed on +the sacred fire. Others will bear the torch; and he who is unencumbered +will outstrip his fellows. The wrong must be put right. + +And so forth, and so forth. Brand sat and listened, recognizing here and +there a proud, pathetic phrase of Natalie's, and knowing well whence the +inspiration came; and as he listened he almost felt as though that +beautiful old place in Buckinghamshire was slipping through his fingers. +The sacrifice seemed to be becoming less and less of a sacrifice; it +took more and more the form of a duty; would Natalie's eyes smile +approval? + +Brand jumped up, and took a rapid turn or two up and down the room. + +"I won't listen to you, Evelyn. You don't know anything about +money-matters. You care for nothing but ideas. Now, I come of a +commercial stock, and I want to know what guarantee I have that this +money, if I were to give it up, would be properly applied. Lind's +assurances are all very well--" + +"Oh yes, of course; you have got back to Lind," said Lord Evelyn, waking +up from his reveries. "Do you know, my dear fellow, that your distrust +of Lind is rapidly developing into a sharp and profound hatred?" + +"I take men as I find them. Perhaps you can explain to me how Lind +should care so little for the future of his daughter as to propose--with +the possibility of our marrying--that she should be left penniless?" + +"I can explain it to myself, but not to you; you are too thorough an +Englishman." + +"Are you a foreigner?" + +"I try to understand those who are not English. Now, an Englishman's +theory is that he himself, and his wife and children--his domestic +circle, in fact--are the centre of creation; and that the fate of +empires, as he finds that going one way or the other in the telegrams of +the morning paper, is a very small matter compared with the necessity of +Tom's going to Eton, or Dick's marrying and settling down as the bailiff +of the Worcestershire farm. That is all very well; but other people may +be of a different habit of mind. Lind's heart and soul are in his +present work; he would sacrifice himself, his daughter, you, or anybody +else to it, and consider himself amply justified. He does not care about +money, or horses, or the luxury of a big establishment; I suppose he has +had to live on simple fare many a time, whether he liked it or not, and +can put up with whatever happens. If you imagine that you may be cheated +by a portion of your money--supposing you were to adopt his +proposal--going into his pocket as commission, you do him a wrong." + +"No, I don't think that," Brand said, rather unwillingly. "I don't take +him to be a common and vulgar swindler. And I can very well believe that +he does not care very much for money or luxury or that kind of thing, so +far as he himself is concerned. Still, you would think that the ordinary +instinct of a father would prevent his doing an injury to the future of +his daughter--" + +"Would he consider it an injury. Would she?"' + +"Well," Brand said, "she is very enthusiastic, and noble, and generous, +and does not know what dependence or poverty means. But he is a man of +the world, and you would think he would look after his own kith and +kin." + +"Yes, that is a wholesome conservative English sentiment, but it does +not rule the actions of everybody." + +"But common sense--" + +"Oh, bother common sense! Common-sense is only a grocer that hasn't got +an idea beyond ham-and-eggs." + +"Well, if I am only a grocer," Brand said, quite submissively, "don't +you think the grocer, if he were asked to pay off the National Debt, +ought to say, 'Gentlemen, that is a praiseworthy object; but in the +meantime wouldn't it be advisable for me to make sure that my wife +mayn't have to go on the parish?" + +Thereafter there was silence for a time, and when Brand next spoke it +was in a certain, precise, hard fashion, as if he wished to make his +meaning very clear. + +"Suppose, Evelyn," he said, "I were to tell you what has occurred to me +as the probable explanation of Lind's indifference about the future of +his daughter, would you be surprised?" + +"I expect it will be wrong, for you cannot do justice to that man; but I +should like to hear it." + +"I must tell you he wrote me a letter, a shilly-shallying sort of +letter, filled with arguments to prove that a marriage between Natalie +and myself would not be expedient, and all the rest of it: not +absolutely refusing his consent, you understand, but postponing the +matter, and hoping that on further reflection, et cętera, et cętera. +Well, do you know what my conclusion is?--that he is definitely resolved +I shall not marry his daughter; and that he is playing with me, +humbugging me with the possibility of marrying her, until he induces me +to hand him over my fortune for the use of the Society. Stare away as +you like; that is what I believe to be true." + +He rose and walked to the window, and looked out. + +"Well, Evelyn, whatever happens, I have to thank you for many things. It +has been all like my boyhood come back again, but much more wonderful +and beautiful. If I have to go to America, I shall take with me at least +the memory of one night at Covent Garden. She was there--and Madame +Potecki--and old Calabressa. It was _Fidelio_ they were playing. She +gave me some forget-me-nots." + +"What do you mean by going to America?" Lord Evelyn said. + +Brand remained at the window for a minute or two, silent, and then he +returned to his chair. + +"You will say I am unjust again. But unless I am incapable of +understanding English--such English as he speaks--this is his ultimatum: +that unless I give my property, every cent of it, over to the Society, I +am to go to America. It is a distinct and positive threat." + +"How can you say so!" the other remonstrated. "He has just been to +America himself, without any compulsion whatever." + +"He has been to America for a certain number of weeks. I am to go for +life--and, as he imagines, alone." + +His face had been growing darker and darker, the brows lowering +ominously over the eyes. + +"Now, Brand," his friend said, "you are letting your distrust of this +man Lind become a madness. What if he were to say to-morrow that you +might marry Natalie the day after?" + +The other looked up almost bewildered. + +"I would say he was serving some purpose of his own. But he will not say +that. He means to keep his daughter to himself, and he means to have my +money." + +"Why, you admitted, a minute ago, that even you could not suspect him of +that!" + +"Not for himself--no. Probably he does not care for money. But he cares +for ambition--for power; and there is a vacancy in the Council. Don't +you see? This would be a tremendous large sum in the eyes of a lot of +foreigners: they would be grateful, would they not? And Natalie once +transferred to Italy, I could console myself with the honor and dignity +of Lind's chair in Lisle Street. Don't you perceive?" + +"I perceive this--that you misjudge Lind altogether. I am sure of it. I +have seen it from the beginning--from the moment you set your foot in +his house. And you tried to blind yourself to the fact because of +Natalie. Now that you imagine that he means to take Natalie from you, +all your pent-up antagonism breaks loose. Meanwhile, what does Natalie +herself say?" + +"What does she say?" he repeated, mechanically. He also was lying back +in his chair, his eyes gazing aimlessly at the window. But whenever +anyone spoke of Natalie, or whenever he himself had to speak of her, a +quite new expression came into his face; the brows lifted, the eyes were +gentle. "What does she say? Why, nothing. Lind requested me neither to +see her nor write to her; and I thought that reasonable until I should +have heard what he had to say to me. There is a message I got half an +hour ago--not from her." + +He handed to Lord Evelyn the anonymous scroll that he had received from +the old German. + +"Poor old Calabressa!" he said. "Those Italians are always very fond of +little mysteries. But how he must have loved that woman?" + +"Natalie's mother?" + +"Yes," said the other, absently. "I wonder he has never gone to see his +sweetheart of former years." + +"What do you mean?" + +Brand started. It was not necessary that Lord Evelyn should in the mean +time be intrusted with that secret. + +"He told me that when he saw Natalie it was to him like a vision from +the dead; she was so like her mother. But I must be off, Evelyn; I have +to meet Molyneux at two. So that is your advice," he said, as he went to +the door--"that I should comply with Lind's demand; or--to put it +another way--succumb to his threat?" + +"It is not my advice at all--quite the contrary. I say, if you have any +doubt or distrust--if you cannot make the sacrifice without perfect +faith and satisfaction to yourself--do not think of it." + +"And go to America?" + +"I cannot believe that any such compulsory alternative exists. But about +Natalie, surely you will send her a message; Lind cannot object to +that?" + +"I will send her no message; I will go to her," the other said, firmly. +"I believe Lind wishes me not to see her. Within the duties demanded of +me by the Society, his wishes are to me commands; elsewhere and +otherwise neither his wishes nor his commands do I value more than a +lucifer-match. Is that plain enough, Evelyn?" + +And so he went away, forgetting all the sage counsel Calabressa had +given him; thinking rather of the kindly, thoughtful, mysterious little +message the old man had left behind him, and of the beautiful caged bird +that sighed and wept because she thought she was forgotten. She should +not think that long! + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + +A PROMISE. + + +This was a dark time indeed for Natalie Lind--left entirely by herself, +ignorant of what was happening around her, and haunted by vague alarms. +But the girl was too proud to show to any one how much she suffered. On +the contrary, she reasoned and remonstrated with herself; and forced +herself to assume an attitude of something more than resignation, of +resolution. If it was necessary that her father should be obeyed, that +her lover should maintain this cruel silence, even that he and she +should have the wide Atlantic separate them forever, she would not +repine. It was not for her who had so often appealed to others to shrink +from sacrifice herself. And if this strange new hope that had filled her +heart for a time had to be finally abandoned, what of that? What +mattered a single life? She had the larger hope; there was another and +greater future for her to think about; and she could cherish the thought +that she at least had done nothing to imperil or diminish the work to +which so many of her friends had given their lives. + +But silence is hard to bear. Ever since the scene with her father, a +certain undeclared estrangement had prevailed between these two; and no +reference whatsoever had been made to George Brand. Her lover had sent +her no message--no word of encouragement, of assurance, or sympathy. +Even Calabressa had gone. There remained to her only the portrait that +Calabressa had given her; and in the solitude of her own room many a +time she sat and gazed at the beautiful face with some dim, wondering +belief that she was looking at her other self, and that she could read +in the features some portion of her own experiences, her own joys and +sorrows. For surely those soft, dark, liquid eyes must have loved and +been beloved? And had they too filled with gladness when a certain step +had been heard coming near? and they looked up with trust and pride and +tenderness, and filled with tears again in absence, when only the memory +of loving words remained? She recalled many a time what Calabressa had +said to her--"My child, may Heaven keep you as true and brave as your +mother was, and send you more happiness." Her mother, then, had not been +happy? But she was brave, Calabressa had said: when she loved a man, +would she not show herself worthy of her love? + +This was all very well; but in spite of her reasoning and her forced +courage, and her self-possession in the presence of others, Natalie had +got into the habit of crying in the quietude of her own room, to the +great distress of the little Anneli, who had surprised her once or +twice. And the rosy-cheeked German maid guessed pretty accurately what +had happened; and wondered very much at the conduct of English lovers, +who allowed their sweethearts to pine and fret in solitude without +sending them letters or coming to see them. But on this particular +afternoon Anneli opened the door, in answer to a summons, and found +outside a club commissionaire whom she had seen once or twice before; +and when he gave her a letter, addressed in a handwriting which she +recognized, and ask for an answer, she was as much agitated as if it had +come from her own sweetheart in Gorlitz. She snatched it from the man, +as if she feared he would take it back. She flew with it up-stairs, +breathless. She forgot to knock at the door. + +"Oh, Fraulein, it is a letter!" said she, in great excitement, "and +there is to be an answer--" + +Then she hesitated. But the good-sense of the child told her she ought +to go. + +"I will wait outside, Fraulein. Will you ring when you have written the +answer?" + +When Natalie opened the letter she was outwardly quite calm--a little +pale, perhaps; but as she read it her heart beat fast. And it was her +heart that instantly dictated the answer to this brief and simple +appeal: + +"My Natalie,--It is your father's wish that I should not see you. Is it +your wish also? There is something I would like to say to you." + +It was her heart that answered. She rose directly. She never thought +twice, or even once, about any wish, or menace, or possible consequence. +She went straight to her desk, and with a shaking hand wrote these +lines: + +"My Own,--Come to me now, at any time--when you please. Am I not yours? + + Natalie." + +Despite herself, she had to pause, to steady her hand--and because her +heart was beating so fast that she felt choked--before she could +properly address the envelope. Then she carried the letter to Anneli, +who she knew was waiting outside. That done, she shut herself in again, +to give herself time to think, though in truth she could scarcely think +at all. For all sorts of emotions were struggling for the mastery of +her--joy and a proud resolve distinctly predominant. It was done, and +she would abide by it. She was not given to fear. + +But she tried hard to think. At last her lover was coming to her; he +would ask her what she was prepared to do: what would she answer? + +Then, again, the joy of the thought that she was about to see him drove +every other consideration out of her mind. How soon might he be here? +Hurriedly she went to a jar of flowers on the table, chose some scarlet +geraniums, and turned to a mirror. Her haste did not avail much, for her +fingers were still trembling: but that was the color he had said, on one +occasion, suited her best. She had not been wearing flowers in her hair +of late. + +From time to time, for a second or so, some thought of her father +intervened. But then her father had only enjoined her to dismiss forever +the hope of her marrying the man to whom she had given her heart and +her life: that could not prevent her loving him, and seeing him, and +telling him that her love was his. She wished the geraniums were less +rose-red and more scarlet in hue. It was the scarlet he had approved +of--that evening that he and she the little Polish lady had dined +together. + +She had not long to wait. With a quick, intense consciousness she heard +the hansom drive up, and the rapid knock that followed; her heart +throbbed through the seconds of silence; then she knew that he was +ascending the stair; then it seemed to her as if the life would go out +of her altogether. But when he flung the door open and came toward her; +when he caught her two hands in his--one hand in each hand--and held +them tight; when, in a silence that neither cared to break, he gazed +into her rapidly moistening eyes--then the full tide of joy and courage +returned to her heart, and she was proud that she had sent him that +answer. For some seconds--to be remembered during a life time--they +regarded each other in silence; then he released her hands, and began to +put back the hair from her forehead as if he would see more clearly into +the troubled deeps of her eyes; and then, somehow--perhaps to hide her +crying--she buried her face in his breast, and his arms were around her, +and she was sobbing out all the story of her waiting and her despair. + +"What!" said he, cheerfully, to calm and reassure her, "the brave +Natalie to be frightened like that!" + +"I was alone," she murmured. "I had no one to speak to; and I could not +understand. Oh, my love, my love, you do not know what you are to me!" + +He kissed her; her cheeks were wet. + +"Natalie," said he in a low voice, "don't forget this: we may be +separated--that is possible--I don't know; but if we live fifty years +apart from each other--if you never hear one word more from me or of +me--be sure of this, that I am thinking of you always, and loving you, +as I do at this moment when my arms are around you. Will you remember +that? Will you believe that--always?" + +"I could not think otherwise," she answered. "But now that you are with +me--that I can hear you speak to me--" And at this point her voice +failed her altogether; and he could only draw her closer to him, and +soothe and caress her, and stroke the raven-black hair that had never +before thrilled his fingers with its soft, strange touch. + +"Perhaps," she said at last, in a broken and hesitating voice, "you will +blame me for having said what I have said. I have had no +girl-companions; scarcely any woman to tell me what I should do and say. +But--but I thought you were going to America--I thought I should never +see you again--I was lonely and miserable; and when I saw you again, how +could I help saying I was glad? How could I help saying that, and +more?--for I never knew it till now. Oh, my love, do you know that you +have become the whole world to me? When you are away from me, I would +rather die than live!" + +"Natalie--my life!" + +"I must say that to you--once--that you may understand--if we should +never see each other again. And now--" + +She gently released herself from his embrace, and went and sat down by +the table. He took a chair near her and held her hand. She would not +look up, for her eyes were still wet with tears. + +"And now," she said, making a great effort to regain her self-control, +"you must tell me about yourself. A woman may have her feelings and +fancies, and cry over them when she is afraid or alone; that is nothing; +it is the way of the world. It is a man's fate that is of importance." + +"You must not talk like that, Natalie," said he gravely. "Our fate is +one. Without you, I don't value my life more than this bit of +geranium-leaf; with you, life would be worth having." + +"And you must not talk like that either," she said. "Your life is +valuable to others. Ah, my dear friend, that is what I have been trying +to console myself with of late. I said, 'Well, if he goes away and does +not see me again, will he not be freer? He has a great work to do; he +may have to go away from England for many years; why should he be +encumbered with a wife?" + +"It was your father, I presume, who made those suggestions to you?" said +Brand, regarding her. + +"Yes; papa said something like that," she answered, quite innocently. +"That is what would naturally occur to him; his work has always the +first place in his thoughts. And with you, too; is it not so?" + +"No." + +She looked up quickly. + +"I will be quite frank with you, Natalie. You have the first place in my +thoughts; I hope you ever will have, while I am a living man. But cannot +I give the Society all the work that is in me equally well, whether I +love you or whether I don't, whether you become my wife or whether you +do not? I have no doubt your father has been talking to you as he has +been talking to me." + +She placed her disengaged hand on the top of his, and said, gently, + +"My father perhaps does not quite understand you; perhaps he is too +anxious. I, for one, am not anxious--about _that_. Do you know how I +trust you, my dearest of friends? Sometimes I have said to myself, 'I +will ask him for a pledge. I will say to him that he must promise, that +he must swear to me, that whatever happens as between him and me, +nothing, nothing, nothing in all the world will induce him to give up +what he has undertaken;' but then again I have said to myself, 'No, I +can trust him for that.'" + +"I think you may, Natalie," said he, rather absently. "And yet what +could have led me to join such a movement but your own noble spirit--the +glamour of your voice--the thanks of your eyes? You put madness into my +blood with your singing." + +"Do you call it madness?" she said, with a faint flush in the pale olive +face. "Is it not rather kindness--is it not justice to others--the +desire to help--something that the angels in heaven must feel when they +look down and see what a great misery there is in the world?" + +"I think you are an angel yourself, Natalie," said he, quite simply, +"and that you have come down and got among a lot of people who don't +treat you too well. However, we must come to the present moment. You +spoke of America; now what do you know about that?" + +The abrupt question startled her. She had been so overjoyed to see +him--her whole soul was so buoyant and radiant with happiness--that she +had quite forgotten or dismissed the vague fears that had been of late +besetting her. But she proceeded to tell him, with a little hesitation +here and there, and with a considerable smoothing down of phrases, what +her father had said to her. She tried to make it appear quite +reasonable. And all she prayed for was that, if he were sent to America, +if they had to part for many years, or forever, she should be permitted +to say good-bye to him. + +"We are not parted yet," said Brand, briefly. + +The fact was, he had just got a new key to the situation. So that threat +about America could serve a double purpose? He was now more than ever +convinced that Ferdinand Lind was merely playing off and on with him +until this money question should be settled; and that he had been +resolved all the time that his daughter should not marry. He was +beginning to understand. + +"Natalie," said he, slowly, "I told you I had something to say to you. +You know your father wrote to me in the North, asking me neither to see +you nor write to you until some matter between him and me was settled. +Well, I respected his wish until I should know what the thing was. Now +that I do know, it seems to me that you are as much concerned as any +one; and that it is not reasonable, it is not possible, I should refrain +from seeing you and consulting you." + +"No one shall prevent your seeing me, when it is your wish," said the +girl, in a low voice. + +"This, then, is the point: you know enough about the Society to +understand, and there is no particular secret. Your father wishes me to +enter the higher grade of officers, under the Council; and the first +condition is that one surrenders up every farthing of one's property." + +"Yes?" + +He stared at her. Her "Yes?"--with its affectionate interest and its +absolute absence of surprise--was almost the exact equivalent of Lord +Evelyn's "Well?" + +"Perhaps you would advise me to consent?" he said, almost in the way of +a challenge. + +"Ah, no," she said, with a smile. "It is not for me to advise on such +things. What you decide for yourself, that will be right." + +"But you don't understand, my darling. Supposing I were ambitious of +getting higher office, which I am not; supposing I were myself willing +to sell my property to swell the funds of the Society--and I don't think +I should be willing in any case--do you think I would part with what +ought to belong to my wife--to you, Natalie? Do you think I would have +you marry a beggar--one dependent on the indulgence of people unknown to +him?" + +And now there was a look of real alarm on the girl's face. + +"Ah!" she said, quickly. "Is not that what my father feared? You are +thinking of me when you should think of others. Already I--I--interfere +with your duty; I tempt you--" + +"My darling, be calm, be reasonable. There is no duty in the matter; +your father acknowledges that himself. It is a proposal I am free to +accept or reject, as I please; and now I promise you that, as you won't +give me any advice, I shall decide without thinking of you at all. Will +that satisfy you?" + +She remained silent for a second or two, and then she said +thoughtfully, + +"Perhaps you could decide just as if there were no possibility of my +ever being your wife?" + +"To please you, I will assume that too." + +Then she said, after a bit, + +"One word more, dearest; you must grant me this--that I may always be +able to think of it when I am alone and far from you, and be able to +reassure myself: it is the promise I thought I could do so well without. +Now you will give it me?" + +"What promise?" + +"That whatever happens to you or to me, whatever my father demands of +me, and wherever you may have to go, you will never withdraw from what +you have undertaken." + +He met the earnest, pleading look of those beautiful eyes without +flinching. His heart was light enough, so far as such a promise was +concerned. Heavier oaths than that lay on him. + +"That is simple enough, Natalie," said he. "I promise you distinctly +that nothing shall cause me to swerve from my allegiance to the Society; +I will give absolute and implicit obedience, and the best of such work +as I can do. But they must not ask me to forget my Natalie." + +She rose, still holding his hand, and stood by him, so that he could not +quite see her face. Then she said, in a very low voice indeed, + +"Dearest, may I give you a ring?--you do not wear one at all--" + +"But surely, Natalie, it is for me to choose a ring for you?" + +"Ah, it is not that I mean," she said, quickly, and with her face +flushing. "It is a ring that will remind you of the promise you have +given me to-day--when we may not be able to see each other." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + +KIRSKI. + + +To this pale student from the Reading-room of the British Museum, as he +stands on a bridge crossing one of the smaller canals, surely the scene +around him must seem one fitted to gladden the heart; for it is Venice +at mid-day, in glowing sunlight: the warm cream-white fronts of the +marble palaces and casemented houses, the tall campanili with their +golden tips, the vast and glittering domes of the churches, all rising +fair and dream-like into the intense dark-blue of a cloudless sky. How +the hot sunlight brings out all the beautiful color of the place--the +richly laden fruit-stalls in the Riva dei Schiavoni; the russet and +saffron sails of the vessels; the canal-boats coming in to the steps +with huge open tuns of purple wine to be ladled out with copper buckets; +and then all around the shining, twinkling plain of the green-hued sea, +catching here and there a reflection from the softly red walls of San +Giorgio and the steel-gray gleaming domes of Santa Maria della Salute. + +Then the passers-by: these are not like the dusky ghosts that wander +through the pale-blue mists of Bloomsbury. Here comes a buxom +water-carrier, in her orange petticoat and sage-green shawl, who has the +two copper cans at the end of the long piece of wood poised on her +shoulders, pretty nearly filled to the brim. Then a couple of the gayer +gondoliers in white and blue, with fancy waist-belts, and rings in their +ears. A procession of black-garbed monks wends slowly along; they have +come from the silence of the Armenian convent over there at the horizon. +Some wandering minstrels shoot their gondola into the mouth of the +canal, and strike up a gay waltz, while they watch the shaded balconies +above. Here is a Lascar ashore from the big steamer that is to start for +Alexandria on the morrow. A company of soldiers, with blue coats, canvas +trousers, and white gaiters, half march and half trot along to the +quick, crackling music of the buglers. A swarthy-visaged maiden, with +the calm brow of a Madonna, appears in the twilight of a balcony, with a +packet of maize in her hand, and in a minute or two she is surrounded +with a cloud of pigeons. Then this beggar--a child of eight or +ten--red-haired and blue-eyed: surely she has stepped out of one of +Titian's pictures? She whines and whimpers her prayers to him; but there +is something in her look that he has seen elsewhere. It belongs to +another century. + +From these reveries Mr. Gathorne Edwards was aroused by some one tapping +him on the shoulder. It was Calabressa. + +"My dear Monsieur Edouarts," said he, in a low voice--for the red-haired +little beggar was still standing there expectant--"he has gone over to +the shipping-place. We must follow later on. Meanwhile, regard this +letter that has just been forwarded to me. Ah, you English do not forget +your promises!" + +Edwards threw a piece of money to the child, who passed on. Then he +took the letter and read it. It was in French. + + * * * * * + +"Dear Calabressa,--I want you to tell me what you have done with Yakov +Kirski. They seem unwilling to say here, and I do not choose to inquire +further. But I undertook to look after him, and I understood he was +getting on very well, and now you have carried him off. I hope it is +with no intention of allowing him to go back to Russia, where he will +simply make an attempt at murder, and fall into the hands of the police. +Do not let the poor devil go and make a fool of himself. If you want +money to send him back to England, show this letter, or forward it to +Messrs. ----, who will give you what you want. + + "Your friend, George Brand. + +"P.S.--I have seen your beautiful caged little bird. I can say no more +at present, but that she shall not suffer through any neglect of mine." + + * * * * * + +"What is that about the caged bird?" said Edwards. + +"Ah, the caged bird?" said Calabressa. "The caged bird?--do you see, +that is a metaphor. It is nothing; one makes one's little joke. But I +was saying, my dear friend, that you English do not promise, and then +forget. No; he says, 'I will befriend this poor devil of a Kirski;' and +here he comes inquiring after him. Now I must answer the letter; you +will accompany me, Monsieur Edouarts? Ten minutes in my little room, and +it is done." + +So the two walked away together. This Edwards who now accompanied +Calabressa was a man of about thirty, who looked younger; tall, fair, +with a slight stoop, a large forehead, and blue eyes that stared +near-sightedly through spectacles. The ordinary expression of his face +was grave even to melancholy, but his occasional smile was humorous, and +when he laughed the laugh was soft and light like that of a child. His +knowledge of modern languages was considered to be almost unrivalled, +though he had travelled but little. + +When, in this little room, Calabressa had at length finished his letter +and dusted it over with sand, he was not at all loath to show it to this +master of modern speech. Calabressa was proud of his French; and if he +would himself have acknowledged that it was perhaps here and there of +doubtful idiom and of phonetic spelling, would he not have claimed for +it that it was fluent, incisive, and ornate? + +"My valued friend, it is not permitted me to answer your questions in +precise terms; but he to whom you have had the goodness to extend your +bountiful protection is well and safe, and under my own care. No; he +goes not back to Russia. His thoughts are different; his madness travels +in other directions; it is no longer revenge, it is adoration and +gratitude that his heart holds. And you, can you not guess who has +worked the miracle? Think of this: you have a poor wretch who is +distracted by injuries and suffering; he goes away alone into Europe; he +is buffeted about with the winds of hunger and thirst and cold: he +cannot speak; he is like a dog--a wild beast that people drive away from +their door. And all at once some one addresses him in gentle tones: it +is the voice of an angel to him! You plough and harrow the poor wretch's +heart with suffering and contempt and hopelessness, until it is a +desert, a wilderness; but some one, by accident, one day drops a seed of +kindness into it, and behold! the beautiful flower of love springing up, +and all the man's life going into it! Can you understand--you who ought +to understand? Were you not present when the bewildered, starved, hunted +creature heard that gentle voice of pity, like an angel speaking from +heaven? And if the beautiful girl, who will be the idol of my thoughts +through my remaining years, if she does not know that she has rescued a +human soul from despair, you will tell her--tell her from me, from +Calabressa. What would not Kirski do for her? you might well ask. The +patient regards the physician who has cured him with gratitude: this is +more that gratitude, it is worship. What she has preserved she owns; he +would give his life to her, to you, to any one whom she regards with +affection. For myself, I do not say such things; but she may count on me +also, while one has yet life. + + "I am yours, and hers, Calabressa." + + * * * * * + +The letter was handed to Gathorne Edwards with a proud air; and he read +it, and handed it back. + +"This man Kirski is not so much of a savage as you imagine," he said. +"He learns quickly, and forgets nothing. He can repeat all the articles +of membership; but it is No. 5 that he is particularly fond of. You have +not heard him go over it, Calabressa?" + +"I? No. He does not waste my time that way." + +"His pronunciation," continued the younger man, with a smile, "is rather +like the cracking of dry twigs. 'Article 5. Whatever punishment may be +decreed against any Officer, Companion, or Friend of the Society may be +vicariously borne by any other Officer, Companion, or Friend who of his +own full and free consent acts as substitute; the original offender +becoming thereby redeemed, acquitted, and released.' And then he +invariably adds: 'Why not make me of some use? To myself my life is +nothing.'" + +At this moment there was a tapping at the door. + +"It is himself," said Edwards. + +"Enter!" Calabressa called out. + +The man who now came into the room was a very different looking person +from the wild, unkempt creature who had confronted Natalie Lind in +Curzon Street. The voluminous red beard and mustache had been cropped; +he wore the clothes of a decent workman, with a foreign touch here and +there; he was submissive and docile in look. + +"Well, where have you been, my friend?" Calabressa said to him in +Italian. + +Kirski glanced at Gathorne Edwards, and began to speak to him in +Russian. + +"Will you explain for me, little father? I have been to many churches." + +"The police will not suspect him if he goes there," said Calabressa, +laughing. + +"And to the shops in the Piazza San Marco, where the pictures are of the +saints." + +"Well?" + +"Little father, I can find no one of the saints so beautiful as that one +in England that the Master Calabressa knows." + +Calabressa laughed again. + +"Allons, mon grand enfant! Tell him that if it is only a likeness he is +hunting for, I can show him one." + +With that he took out from his breast-pocket a small pocket book, opened +it, found a certain photograph, and put it on the table, shoving it over +toward Kirski. The dim-eyed Russian did not dare to touch it; but he +stooped over it, and he put one trembling hand on each side of it, as if +he would concentrate the light, and gazed at this portrait of Natalie +Lind until he could see nothing at all for the tears that came into his +eyes. Then he rose abruptly, and said something rapidly to Edwards. + +"He says, 'Take it away, or you will make me a thief. It is worth more +than all the diamonds in the world.'" + +Calabressa did not laugh this time. He regarded the man with a look in +which there was as much pity as curiosity. + +"The poor devil!" he said. "Tell him I will ask the beautiful saint whom +he worships so to send him a portrait of herself with her own hands. I +will. She will do as much as that for her friend Calabressa." + +This had scarcely been translated to Kirski when, in his sudden +gratitude, he caught Calabressa's hand and kissed it. + +"Tell him, also," Calabressa said, good-naturedly, "that if he is hungry +before dinner-time there is sausage and bread and beer in the cupboard. +But he must not stir out till we come back. Allons, mon bon camarade!" + +Calabressa lit another cigarette, and the two companions sallied forth. +They stepped into a gondola, and presently they were being borne swiftly +over the plain of light-green water. By-and-by they plunged into a +varied and picturesque mass of shipping, and touched land again in front +of a series of stores. The gondola was ordered to await their return. + +Calabressa passed without question through the lower floor of this +particular building, where the people were busy with barrels of flour, +and led the way up-stairs until he stopped at a certain door. He knocked +thrice and entered. There was a small, dark man seated at a table, +apparently engaged with some bills of lading. + +"You are punctual, Brother Calabressa." + +"Your time is valuable, Brother Granaglia. Let me present to you my +comrade Signor Edouarts, of whom I wrote to you." + +The sallow-faced little man with the tired look bowed courteously, +begged his guests to be seated, and pushed toward them a box of +cigarettes. + +"Now, my Calabressa," said he, "to the point. As you guess, I am pressed +for time. Seven days hence will find me in Moscow." + +"In Moscow!" exclaimed Calabressa. "You dare not!" + +Granaglia waved his hand a couple of inches. + +"Do not protest. It may be your turn to-morrow. And my good friend +Calabressa would find Moscow just about as dangerous for him as for me." + +"Monsieur le Secretaire, I have no wish to try. But to the point, as you +say. May one ask how it stands with Zaccatelli?" + +Granaglia glanced at the Englishman. + +"Of course he knows everything," Calabressa explained instantly. "How +otherwise should I have brought him with me?" + +"Well, Zaccatelli has received his warning." + +"Who carried it?" + +"I." + +"You! You are the devil! You thrust your head into the lion's den!" + +The black-eyed, worn-faced little man seemed pleased. An odd, dry smile +appeared about the thin lips. + +"It needed no courage at all, friend Calabressa. His Eminence knows who +we are, no one better. The courage was his. It is not a pleasant thing +when you are told that within a certain given time you will be a dead +man; but Zaccatelli did not blanch; no, he was very polite to me. He +paid us compliments. We were not like the others, Calabressa. We were +good citizens and Christians; even his Holiness might be induced to lend +an ear; why should not the Church and we be friends?" + +Calabressa burst out laughing. + +"Surely evil days have fallen on the Pope, Brother Granaglia, when one +of his own Cardinals proposes that he should at last countenance a +secret society. But his Eminence was mad with fear--was it not so? He +wanted to win you over with promises, eh? Idle words, and no more. He +feeds you on wind, and sends you away, and returns to his mistresses and +his wines and his fountains of perfume?" + +"Not quite so," said the other, with the same dry smile, "His Eminence, +as I say to you, knows as well as any one in Europe who and what we are, +and what is our power. The day after I called on him with my little +message, what does he do--of his own free-will, mind you--but send back +the daughter of old De Bedros to her home, with a pledge to her father +that she shall have a dowry of ten thousand lire when she marries. The +father is pleased, the daughter is not. She sits and cries. She talks of +herself getting at him with a stiletto." + +He took a cigarette, and accepted a light from Calabressa. + +"Further," he continued, "his Eminence is so kind as to propose to give +the Council an annual subsidy from his own purse of thirty thousand +lire." + +"Thirty thousand lire!" Calabressa exclaimed. + +But at this point even Granaglia began to laugh. + +"Yes, yes, my friend," he said, apparently apostrophizing the absent +Cardinal. "You know, then, who we are, and you do not wish to give up +all pleasures. No; we are to become the good boy among secret societies; +we are to have the blessing of the Pope; we are to fight Prince Bismarck +for you. Prince Bismarck has all his knights and his castles on the +board; but what are they against an angelic host of bishops and some +millions of common pawns? Prince Bismarck wishes to plunge Europe again +into war. The church with this tremendous engine within reach, says, No. +Do you wish to find eight men--eight men, at the least--out of every +company of every regiment in all your _corps d'armee_ throw down their +rifles at the first onset of battle? You will shoot them for mutiny? My +dear fellow, you cannot, the enemy is upon you. With eight men out of +each company throwing down their weapons, and determined either to +desert or die, how on earth can you fight at all? Well, then, good +Bismarck, you had better make your peace with the Church, and rescind +those Falk laws. What do you think of that scheme, Calabressa? It was +ingenious, was it not, to have come into the head of a man under +sentence of death?" + +"But the thirty thousand lire, Brother Granaglia. It is a tremendous +bribe." + +"The Council does not accept bribes, Brother Calabressa," said the +other, coldly, + +"It is decided, then, that the decree remains to be executed?" + +"I know nothing to the contrary. But if you wish to know for certain, +you must seek the Council. They are at Naples." + +He pulled an ink-bottle before him, and made a motion with his +forefinger. + +"You understand?" + +"Yes, yes," Calabressa answered. "And I will go on to Naples, Brother +Granaglia; for I have with me one who I think will carry out the wishes +of the Council effectively, so far as his Eminence the Cardinal is +concerned." + +"Who is he?" said the other, but with no great interest. + +"Yakov Kirski. He is a Russian." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + +A CLIMAX. + + +It was a momentous decision that George Brand had to arrive at; and yet +he scarcely seemed to be aware of it. The man had changed so much during +these past six months. + +"Do you know, Evelyn," he was saying to his friend, on the very evening +on which his answer was to be given to Ferdinand Lind, "I am beginning +to look on that notion of my going to America with anything but dislike. +Rather the opposite, indeed. I should like to get rid of a lot of old +associations, and start in a new and wider field. With another life to +lead, don't you want another sort of world to live it in?" + +Lord Evelyn regarded him. No one had observed with a closer interest the +gradual change that had come over this old friend of his. And he was +proud of it, too; for had it not been partly of his doing? + +"One does not breathe free air here," Brand continued, rather +absently--as if his mental vision was fixed on the greater spaces beyond +the seas. "With a new sort of life beginning, wouldn't it be better to +start it under new conditions--feeling yourself unhampered--with nothing +around to disturb even the foolishness of your dreams and hopes? Then +you could work away at your best, leaving the result to time." + +"I know perfectly what all that means," Lord Evelyn said. "You are +anxious to get away from Lind. You believe in your work, but you don't +like to be associated with him." + +"Perhaps I know a little more than you, Evelyn," said Brand, gently, "of +Lind's relation to the society. He does not represent it to me at all. +He is only one of its servants, like ourselves. But don't let us talk +about him." + +"You _must_ talk about him," Lord Evelyn said, as he pulled out his +watch. "It is now seven. At eight you go to the initiation of Molyneux, +and you have promised to give Lind his answer to-night. Well?" + +Brand was playing idly with a pocket-pencil. After a minute or two, he +said, + +"I promised Natalie to consider this thing without any reference to her +whatever--that I would decide just as if there was no possibility of her +becoming my wife. I promised that; but it is hard to do, Evelyn. I have +tried to imagine my never having seen her, and that I had been led into +this affair solely through you. Then I do think that if you had come to +me and said that my giving up every penny I possess would forward a good +work--would do indirect benefit to a large number of people, and so +forth--I do think I could have said, 'All right, Evelyn; take it.' I +never cared much for money; I fancy I could get on pretty well on a +sovereign a week. I say that if you had come to me with this request--" + +"Precisely," Lord Evelyn said, quickly. "You would have said yes, if I +had come to you. But because it is Lind, whom you distrust, you fall +away from the height of self-sacrifice, and regard the proposal from the +point of view of the Waldegrave Club. Mind you, I am not counselling you +one way or the other. I am only pointing out to you that it is your +dislike of Lind that prevents your doing what you otherwise would have +done." + +"Very well," said the other, boldly. "Have I not reason to distrust him? +How can I explain his conduct and his implied threats except on the +supposition that he has been merely playing with me, as far as his +daughter is concerned; and that as soon as I had handed over this +property I should find it out? Oh, it is a very pretty scheme +altogether! This heap of English money transferred to the treasury; Lind +at length achieving his ambition of being put on the Council; Natalie +carried off to Italy; and myself granted the honor of stepping into +Lind's shoes in Lisle Street. On the other hand: 'Refuse, and we pack +you off to America.' Now, you know, Evelyn, one does not like to be +threatened into anything!" + +"Then you have decided to say, No?" + +He did not answer for a second or two; when he did, his manner was quite +changed. + +"I rather think I know what both you and Natalie would have me do, +although you won't say so explicitly. And if you and she had come to me +with this proposal, do you think there would have been any difficulty? I +should have been satisfied if she had put her hand in mine, and said, +'Thank you.' Then I should have reminded her that she was sacrificing +something too." + +He relapsed into silence again; Lord Evelyn was vaguely conscious that +the minutes were passing by, and that his friend seemed as far off as +ever from any decision. + +"You remember the old-fashioned rose-garden, Evelyn?" + +"At the beeches? Yes." + +"Don't you think Natalie would like the view from that side of the +house? And if she chose that side, I was thinking of having a +conservatory built all the length of the rooms, with steps opening out +into the rose-garden. She could go out there for a stroll of a morning." + +So these had been his dreams. + +"If I go to America," he said presently, "I should expect you to look +after the old place a little bit. You might take your sisters there +occasionally, and turn them loose; it wants a woman's hand here and +there. Mrs. Alleyne would put you all right; and of course I should send +Waters down, and give up those rooms in Buckingham Street." + +"But I cannot imagine your going to America, somehow," Lord Evelyn +said. "Surely there is plenty for you to do here." + +"I will say this of Lind, that he is not an idle talker. What he says he +means. Besides, Molyneux can take up my work in the North; he is the +very man." + +Again silence. It was now half-past seven. + +"I wish, though, it had been something more exciting," Brand said. "I +should not have minded having a turn at the Syrian business; I am not +much afraid of risking my neck. There is not much danger in +Philadelphia." + +"But look here, Brand," said Lord Evelyn, regarding him attentively. +"You are speaking with great equanimity about your going to America; +possibly you might like the change well enough; but do I understand you +that you are prepared to go alone?" + +Brand looked up; he understood what was meant. + +"If I am ordered--yes." + +He held out his right hand; on the third finger there was a massive gold +ring--a plain hoop, without motto or design whatever. + +"There," said he, "is the first ring I ever wore. It was given to me +this afternoon, to remind me of a promise; and that promise is to me +more binding than a hundred oaths." + +He rose with a sigh. + +"Ah, well, Evelyn, whatever happens we will not complain. There have +been compensations." + +"But you have not told me what answer you mean to give to Lind." + +"Suppose I wait until I see him before deciding?" + +"Then you will say, No. You have allowed your distrust of him to become +a sort of mania, and the moment you see him the mere sight of him will +drive you into antagonism." + +"I tell you what I wish I could do, Evelyn," said the other, laughing: +"I wish I could turn over everything I have got to you, and escape +scot-free to America and start my own life free and unencumbered." + +"And alone?" + +His face grew grave again. + +"There is nothing possible else!" said he. + +It was nearly eight o'clock when he left. As he walked along Piccadilly, +a clear and golden twilight was shining over the trees in the Green +Park. All around him was the roar of the London streets; but it was not +that that he heard. Was it not rather the sound of a soft, low voice, +and the silvery notes of the zither? His memory acted as a sea-shell, +and brought him an echo from other days and other climes. + + "Behold the beautiful night--the wind sleeps drowsily--the silent + shores slumber in the dark: + + "Sul placido elemento + Vien meco a navigar! + + "The soft wind moves--as it stirs among the leaves--it moves and + dies--among the murmur of the water: + + "Lascia l'amico tetto, + Vien meco a navigar! + + "Now on the spacious mantle--of the already darkening heavens--see, + oh the shining wonder--how the white stars tremble: + + "Sul l'onde addormentate + Vien meco a navigar!" + +This was the voice that he heard amidst the roar of the London streets. +Would he hear it far away on the wide Atlantic, with the shores of +England hidden behind the mists of rain? To-night was to decide what the +future of his life was to be. + +If Natalie had appeared at this moment, and said to him, "Dearest, let +it be as my father wishes;" or if Lord Evelyn had frankly declared to +him that it was his duty to surrender his possessions to this Society to +which he had devoted his life, there would have been not a moment's +hesitation. But now he was going to see a man whom he suspected and was +inclined to hate, and his nature began to harden. It would be a question +between one man of the world and another. Sentiment would be put aside. +He would no longer be played with. A man should be master of his own +affairs. + +This was what he said to himself. But he had quite forgotten his +determination to consider this matter as if no Natalie existed; and his +resolve to exclude sentiment altogether did not interfere with the fact +that always, if unconsciously, there remained in his mind a certain +picture he had been dreaming a good deal about of late. It was a picture +of an old-fashioned rose-garden in the light of an English summer +morning, with a young wife walking there, herself taller and fairer than +any flower. Would she sing, in her gladness, the songs of other lands, +to charm the sweet English air? There was that one about _O dolce +Napoli!--o suol beato!_-- + +When he got to Lisle Street, every one had arrived except Molyneux +himself. Mr. Lind was gravely polite to him. Of course no mention could +then be made about private affairs; the talk going on was all about the +East, and how certain populations were faring. + +Presently the pink-faced farmer-agitator was ushered in, looking a +little bit alarmed. But this frightened look speedily disappeared, and +gave place to one of mild astonishment, as he appeared to recognize the +faces of one or two of those in the room. The business of the evening, +so far as the brief formalities were concerned, was speedily got over, +and five of the members of the small assembly immediately left. + +"Now, Mr. Molyneux," said Ferdinand Lind, pleasantly, "Mr. Brand and I +have some small private matters to talk over: will you excuse us if we +leave you for a few minutes? Here are some articles of our association +which you may look over in the mean time. May I trouble you to follow +me, Mr. Brand?" + +Brand followed him into an inner and smaller room, and sat down. + +"You said you would have your mind made up to-day with regard to the +proposal I put before you," Mr. Lind observed, with a matter-of-fact +air, as he drew in his chair to the small table. + +Brand simply nodded, and said "Yes." He was measuring his man. He +thought his manner was a good deal too suave. + +"But allow me to say, my dear Mr. Brand, that, as far I am concerned, +there is no hurry. Have you given yourself time? It is a matter of +moment; one should consider." + +"I have considered." + +His tone was firm: one would have thought he had never had any +hesitation at all. But his decision had not been definitely arrived at +until, some quarter of an hour before, he had met Ferdinand Lind face to +face. + +"I may say at once that I prefer to remain in my present grade." + +He was watching Lind as he spoke. There was a slight, scarcely +perceptible, movement of the eyebrows; that was all. The quiet courtesy +of his manner remained undisturbed. + +"That is your decision, then?" he said, just as if some trifling matter +had been arranged. + +"Perhaps I need not bother you with my reasons," Brand continued, +speaking slowly and with precision, "but there are several." + +"I have no doubt you have given the subject serious consideration," +said Mr. Lind, without expressing any further interest or curiosity. + +Now this was not at all what George Brand wanted. He wanted to have his +suspicions allayed or confirmed. He wanted to let this man know how he +read the situation. + +"One reason I may as well name to you, Mr. Lind," said he, being forced +to speak more plainly. "If I were to marry, I should like to give my +wife a proper home. I should not like her to marry a pauper--one +dependent on the complaisance of other people. And really it has seemed +to me strange that you, with your daughter's future, your daughter's +interests to think of, should have made this proposal--" + +Lind interrupted him with a slight deprecatory motion of the hand. + +"Pardon me," said he. "Let us confine ourselves to business, if you +please." + +"I presume it is a man's business to provide for the future of his +wife," said Brand, somewhat hotly, his pride beginning to kick against +this patronizing graciousness of manner. + +"I must beg of you, my dear sir," said Mr. Lind, with the same calm +courtesy, "to keep private interests and projects entirely outside of +this matter, which relates to the Society alone, and your duty, and the +wishes of those with whom you are associated. You have decided?--very +well. I am sorry; but you are within your right." + +"How can you talk like that?" said Brand, bluntly. "Sorry that your +daughter is not to marry a beggar?" + +"I must decline to have Natalie introduced into this subject in any way +whatever," said Mr. Lind. + +"Let us drop the subject, then," said Brand, in a friendly way, for he +was determined to have some further enlightenment. "Now about Natalie. +May I ask you plainly if you have any objection to a marriage between +her and myself?" + +The answer was prompt and emphatic. + +"I have every objection. I have said before that it would be inexpedient +in many ways. It is not to be thought of." + +Brand was not surprised by this refusal; he had expected it; he had put +the question as a matter of form. + +"Now one other question, Mr. Lind, and I shall be satisfied," said he, +watching the face of the man opposite him with a keen scrutiny. "Was it +ever your intention, at any time, to give your consent to our marriage, +in any circumstances whatever?" + +Ferdinand Lind was an admirable actor. + +"Is it worth while discussing imaginary things--possibilities only?" he +said, carelessly. + +"Because, you see," continued Brand, who was not to be driven from his +point, "any plain and ordinary person, looking from the outside at the +whole affair, might imagine that you had been merely temporizing with +me, neither giving nor refusing your consent, until I had handed over +this money; and that, as you had never intended to let your daughter +marry, that was the reason why you did not care whether I retained a +penny of my own property or not." + +Lind did not flinch for an instant; nor was there the slightest trace of +surprise, or annoyance, or resentment in his look. He rose and pushed +back his chair. + +"Suppose we let outsiders think what they please, Mr. Brand," said he, +with absolute composure. "We have more serious matters to attend to." + +Brand rose also. He guessed what was coming, and he had nerved himself +to face it. The whole course of this man's action was now as clear to +him as noonday. + +"I have been considering further the suggestion I mentioned to you the +other day, that you should go over to some of the big American cities," +said Mr. Lind, almost with an indifferent air as he turned over some +papers. "We are strong there; you will find plenty of friends; but what +is wanted is cohesion, arrangement, co-operation. Now you say yourself +this Mr. Molyneux would be an admirable successor to you in the North?" + +"None better," said Brand. This sentence of banishment had been +foreseen; he knew how to encounter it when it came. + +"I think, on the whole, it would be advisable then. When could you go?" + +"I could start to-night," he said. But then, despite himself, a blush of +embarrassment mounted to his forehead, and he added quickly, "No; not +to-night. The day after to-morrow." + +"There is no need for any such great hurry," said Mr. Lind, with his +complaisant smile. "You will want much direction, many letters. Come, +shall we join your friend in the other room?" + +The two men, apparently on the best of terms, went back to Molyneux, and +the talk became general. George Brand, as he sat there, kept his right +hand shut tight, that so he could press the ring that Natalie had given +him; and when he thought of America, it was almost with a sense of +relief. She would approve; he would not betray his promise to her But +if only that one moment were over in which he should have to bid her +farewell! + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + +A GOOD-NIGHT MESSAGE. + + +Brand had nerved himself for that interview; he had determined to betray +neither surprise nor concern; he was prepared for the worst. When it was +intimated to him that hence-forth his life was to be lived out beyond +the seas, he had appeared to take it as a matter of course. Face to face +with his enemy, he would utter no protest. Then, had he not solemnly +promised to Natalie that nothing in the world should tempt him from his +allegiance? Why should he shrink from going to America, or prefer London +to Philadelphia? He had entered into a service that took no heed of such +things. + +But when he had parted from Lind and Molyneux, and got out into the +sombre glare of the night-world of London, and when there was no further +need for that forced composure, he began more clearly to recognize his +position, and his heart grew heavy. This, then, was the end of those +visions of loving companionship and constant and sustaining sympathy +with which he had dared to fill the future. He had thought little of +anything that might be demanded from him so long as he could anticipate +Natalie's approval, and be rewarded with a single glance of gratitude +from the proud, dark, beautiful eyes. What mattered it to him what +became of himself, what circumstances surrounded them, so long as he and +she were together? But now a more terrible sacrifice than any he had +dreamed of had to be made. The lady of love whom the Pilgrims had sworn +to serve was proving herself inexorable indeed: + + "--Is she a queen, having great gifts to give? + --Yea, these; that whoso hath seen her shall not live + Except to serve her sorrowing, with strange pain, + Travail and bloodshedding and bitterer tears; + And when she bids die he shall surely die. + And he shall leave all things under the sky, + And go forth naked under sun and rain, + And work and wait and watch out all his years." + +When Lord Evelyn had asked him whether he was prepared to go to America +_alone_, he had clasped the ring that Natalie had given him, and +answered "Yes." But that was as a matter of theory. It was what he might +do, in certain possible circumstances. Now that he had to face the +reality, and bethink him of the necessity of taking Natalie's hand for +the last time, his heart sank within him. + +He walked on blindly through the busy streets, seeing nothing around +him. His memory was going over the most trivial incidents connected with +Natalie, as if every look of hers, every word she had uttered, was now +become something inexpressibly precious. Were there not many things he +could carry away with him to the land beyond the seas? No distance or +time could rob him of the remembrance of that night at the opera--the +scent of white rose--her look as she gave him the forget-me-nots. Then +the beautiful shining day as they drew near to Dover, and her pride +about England, and the loosened curls of hair that blew about her neck. +On the very first evening on which he had seen her--she sitting at the +table and bending over the zither--her profile touched by the +rose-tinted light from the shade of the candle--the low, rich voice, +only half heard, singing the old, familiar, tender _Lorelei_. He felt +the very touch of her fingers on his arm when she turned to him with +reproving eyes: "_Is that the way you answer an appeal for help?_" That +poor devil of a Kirski--what had become of him? He would find out from +Reitzei; and, before leaving England, would take care that something +should be done for the luckless outcast. He should have cause to +remember all his life-long that Natalie Lind had interfered in his +behalf. + +Without knowing well how he got there, Brand found himself in Curzon +Street. He walked on, perhaps with some vague notion that he might meet +Natalie herself, until he arrived at the house. It was quite dark; there +was no light in any of the windows; Anneli had not even lit the gas-jet +in the narrow hall. He turned away from the door that he felt was now +barred against him forever, and walked back to Clarges Street. + +Lord Evelyn was out; the man did not know when he would be home again. +So Brand turned away from that door also, and resumed his aimless +wanderings, busy with those pictures of the past. At length he got down +to Buckingham Street, and almost mechanically made his way toward his +own rooms. + +He had reached his door, however, when he heard some one speaking +within. + +"I might have known," he said to himself. "That is so like Evelyn." + +It was indeed Lord Evelyn, who was chatting familiarly with old Waters. +But the moment Brand entered he ceased, and a look of anxiety, and even +alarm, appeared instantly on the fine, sensitive, expressive face. + +"What is the matter, Brand? Are you ill?" + +"No," said the other, dropping into a chair; "only tired--and worried, +perhaps. Waters, get me a biscuit and a glass of sherry. Now, when I +think of it, I ought to feel tired--I have eaten nothing since eight +o'clock this morning." + +Lord Evelyn jumped to his feet. + +"Come off at once, Brand. We will go up to the Strand and get you +something to eat. Gracious goodness, it is nearly ten o'clock!" + +"No, no, never mind. I have something to talk to you about, Evelyn." + +"But why on earth had Waters no dinner waiting for you?" + +"I did not tell him--I forgot. Never mind; I will have some supper +by-and-by. I called on you, Evelyn, about half an hour ago; I might have +known you would be here." + +Lord Evelyn paused for a second or two, while Waters came in and went +out again. Then he said, + +"I can tell by your face, Brand, that something has happened." + +"Nothing that I had not foreseen." + +"Did you consent or refuse?" + +"I refused." + +"Well?" + +"Then, as I knew he would, he suggested that I might as well get ready +to start for America as soon as possible." + +Brand was speaking in a light and scornful way; but his face was +careworn, and his eyes kept turning to the windows and the dark night +outside, as if they were looking at something far away. + +"About Natalie?" Lord Evelyn asked. + +"Oh, he was frank enough. He dropped all those roundabout phrases about +the great honor, and so forth. He was quite plain. 'Not to be thought +of.'" + +Lord Evelyn remained silent for some time. + +"I am very sorry, Brand," he said at length; and then he continued with +some hesitation--"Do you know--I have been thinking that--that though +it's a very extreme thing for a man to give up his fortune--a very +extreme thing--I can quite understand how the proposal looked to you +very monstrous at first--still, if you put that in the balance as +against a man's giving up his native country and the woman whom he is in +love with--don't you see--the happiness of people of so much more +importance than a sum of money, however large--" + +"My dear fellow," said Brand, interrupting him, "there is no such +alternative--there never was any such alternative. Do you not think I +would rather give up twenty fortunes than have to go and bid good-bye to +Natalie? It is not a question of money. I suspected before--I know +now--that Lind never meant to let his daughter marry. He would not +definitely say no to me while he thought I could be persuaded about this +money business; as soon as I refused that, he was frank and explicit +enough. I see the whole thing clearly enough now. Well, he has not +altogether succeeded." + +His eye happened to light on the ring on his finger, and the frown on +his face lifted somewhat. + +"If I could only forget Lind; if I could forget why it was that I had to +go to America, I should think far less of the pain of separation. If I +could go to Natalie, and say, 'Look at what we must do, for the sake of +something greater than our own wishes and dreams,' then I think I could +bid her good-bye without much faltering; but when you know that it is +unnecessary--that you are being made the victim of a piece of personal +revenge--how can you look forward with any great enthusiasm to the new +life that lies before you? That is what troubles me, Evelyn." + +"I cannot argue the matter with you," his friend said, looking down, and +evidently much troubled himself. "I cannot help remembering that it was +I let you in for all this--" + +"Don't say that, Evelyn," Brand broke in, quickly. "Do you think I would +have it otherwise? Once in America, I shall no doubt forget how I came +to go there. I shall have something to do." + +"I--I was going to say that--that perhaps you are not quite fair to +Lind. You impute motives that may not exist." + +Lord Evelyn flushed a little; it was almost as if he were excusing or +defending one he had no particular wish to defend; but all the same, +with some hesitation, he continued, + +"Consider Lind's position. Mind, your reading of his conduct is only +pure assumption. It is quite possible that he would be really and +extremely surprised if he knew that you fancied he had been allowing +personal feelings to sway his decision. But suppose this--suppose he is +honestly convinced that you would be of great service in America. He has +seen what you can do in the way of patient persuading of people. I know +he has plenty around him who can do the risky business--men who have +been adventurous all their lives--who would like nothing better than to +be commissioned to set up a secret printing-press next door to the +Commissary of Police in St. Petersburg. I say he has plenty of people +like that; but very few who have persistence and patience enough to do +what you have been doing in the north of England. He told me so himself. +Very well. Suppose he thinks that what you have been doing this man +Molyneux can carry on? Suppose, in short, that, if he had no daughter at +all, he would be anxious to send you to the States?" + +Brand nodded. There was no harm in letting his friend have his theory. + +"Very well. Now suppose that, having this daughter, he would rather not +have her marry. He says she is of great service to him; and his wish to +have her with him always would probably exaggerate that service, +unconsciously to himself, if it were proposed to take her away. That is +only natural." + +Brand again assented. + +"Very well. He discovers that you and she are attached to each other. +Probably he does not consider it a very serious affair, so far; but he +knows that if you remain in London it would probably become so. Now, +Natalie is a girl of firm character; she is very gentle, but she is not +a fool. If you remained in London she would probably marry you, whether +her father liked it or not, if she thought it was right. He knows that; +he knows that the girl is capable of acting on her own judgment. Now put +the two things together. Here is this opportune service on which you can +be sent. That, according to his view, will be a good thing of itself; it +will also effectually prevent a marriage which he thinks would be +inexpedient. Don't you see that there may be no personal revenge or +malice in the whole affair? He may consider he is acting quite rightly, +with regard to the best interests of everybody concerned." + +"I am sick of him, Evelyn--of hearing of him--of thinking of him," Brand +said, impatiently. "Come, let us talk of something else. I wish the +whole business of starting for America were over, and I had only the +future to think about." + +"That is not likely," said Lord Evelyn, gently. "You cannot cut +yourself away from everything like that. There will be _some_ memories." + +Waters here appeared with a tray, and speedily placed on the table a +lobster, some oysters, and a bottle of Chablis. + +"There you are, Evelyn; have some supper." + +"Not unless you have some." + +"By-and-by--" + +"No, now." + +So the two friends drew in their chairs. + +"I have been thinking," said Lord Evelyn--with a slight flush, for he +was telling a lie--"I have been thinking for some time back I should +like to go to America for a year or two. There are some political phases +I should like to study." + +Brand looked at him. + +"You never thought of it before to-night. But it is like you to think of +it now." + +"Oh, I assure you," said the other, hastily, "there are points of great +interest in the political life of America that one could only properly +study on the spot--hearing the various opinions, don't you know--and +seeing how the things practically work. I should have gone long before +now, but that I dreaded the passage across. When do you go?" + +"It is not settled yet." + +"What line shall you go by?" + +"I don't know." + +Lord Evelyn paused for a moment; then he said, + +"I'll go with you, Brand." + +Well, he had not the heart even to protest; for he thoroughly understood +the generous friendship that had prompted such an offer. He might +remonstrate afterward; now he would not. On the contrary, he began to +speak of his experience of the various lines; of the delight of the +voyage to any one not abnormally sensitive to sea-sickness; of the +humors of the bagmen; of the occupations and amusements on board; of +dolphins, fog-horns, icebergs, rope-quoits, grass-widows, and the +chances of poker. It was all a holiday excursion, then? The two friends +lit their cigars and went back to their arm-chairs. The tired and +haggard look on George Brand's face had for the moment been banished. + +But by-and-by he said, rather absently, + +"I suppose, hereafter, Natalie and you will have many a talk over what +has happened. And you will go there just as usual, and spend the +evening, and hear her read, or listen to her singing with the zither. It +seems strange. Perhaps she will be able to forget altogether--to cut +this unhappy episode out of her life, as it were." Then he added, as if +speaking to himself, "No, she is not likely to forget." + +Lord Evelyn looked up. + +"In the mean time, does she know about your going?" + +"I presume not--not yet. But I must see her and tell her unless, indeed, +Lind should try to prevent that too. He might lay injunctions on her +that she was not to see me again." + +"That is true," his friend said. "He might command. But the question is +whether she would obey. I have known Natalie Lind longer than you have. +She is capable of thinking and acting for herself." + +Nothing further was said on this point; they proceeded to talk of other +matters. It was perhaps a quarter of an hour afterward--close on eleven +o'clock--that Waters knocked at the door and then came into the room. + +"A letter for you, sir." + +A quick glance at the envelope startled him. + +"How did you get it?" he said instantly. + +"A girl brought it, sir, in a cab. She is gone again. There was no +answer, she said." + +Waters withdrew. Brand hastily opened the letter, and read the following +lines, written in pencil, apparently with a trembling hand: + +"Dearest,--I spent this evening with Madame Potecki. My father came for +me, and on the way home has told me something of what has occurred. It +was for the purpose of telling me that you and I must not meet +again--never, never. My own, I cannot allow you to pass a single night, +or a single hour, thinking such a thing possible. Have I not promised to +you? When it is your wish to see me, come to me: I am yours. Good-night, +and Heaven guard you! + + "NATALIE." + +George Brand turned to his friend. + +"This," said he; but his lip trembled, and he stopped for a second. Then +he continued: "This is a message from her, Evelyn. And I know what poor +old Calabressa would say of it, if he were here. He would say: 'This is +what might have been expected from the daughter of Natalie Berezolyi!'" + +"She knows, then?" + +"Yes," said he, still looking at the hastily written lines in pencil, +"and it is as you imagined. Her father has told her we must not see +each other again, and she has refused to be bound by any such +injunction. I rather fancy she thinks he must have conveyed the same +intimation to me; at all events, she has written at once to assure me +that she will not break her promise to me. It was kindly meant; was it +not? I wish Anneli had waited for a second." + +He folded up the letter and put it in his pocket-book: it was one more +treasure he should carry with him to America. But when, later on, Evelyn +had left, he took it out again, and re-read again and again the +irregular, hurried, pencilled lines, and thought of the proud, quick, +generous spirit that had prompted them. And was she still awake and +thinking? And could her heart hear, through the silence of the night, +the message of love and gratitude that he sent her? "_Good-night, and +Heaven guard you!_" It had been a troubled and harassing day for him; +but this tender good-night message came in at the close of it like a +strain of sweet music that he would carry with him into the land of +dreams. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX. + +SOME TREASURES. + + +The next morning Natalie was sitting alone in the little dining-room, +dressed ready to go out. Perhaps she had been crying a little by +herself; but at all events, when she heard the sound of some one being +admitted at the front-door and coming into the passage, she rose, with a +flush of pleasure and relief appearing on her pale and saddened face. It +was Madame Potecki. + +"Ah, it is so good of you to come early," said Natalie to her friend, +with a kind of forced cheerfulness. "Shall we start at once? I have been +thinking and thinking myself into a state of misery; and what is the use +of that?" + +"Let me look at you," said the prompt little music mistress, taking both +her hands, and regarding her with her clear, shrewd blue eyes. "No; you +are not looking well. The walk will do you good, my dear. Come away, +then." + +But Natalie paused in the passage, with some appearance of +embarrassment. Anneli was standing by the door. + +"Remember this, Anneli; if any one calls and wishes to see me--and +particularly wishes to see me--you will not say, 'My mistress is gone +out;' you will say, 'My mistress is gone to the South Kensington Museum +with Madame Potecki.' Do you understand that, Anneli?" + +"Yes, Fraulein; certainly." + +Then they left, going by way of the Park. And the morning was fresh and +bright; the energetic little Polish lady was more talkative and cheerful +than ever; the girl with her had only to listen, with as much appearance +of interest as was possible, considering that her thoughts were so apt +to wonder away elsewhither. + +"My dear, what a lovely morning for us to go and look at my treasures! +The other day I was saying to myself, 'There is my adopted daughter +Natalie, and I have not a farthing to leave her. What is the use of +adopting a child if you have nothing to leave her? Then I said to +myself, 'Never mind; I will teach her my theory of living; that will +make her richer than a hundred legacies will do.' Dear, dear! that was +all the legacy my poor husband left to me." + +She passed her hand over her eyes. + +"Don't you ever marry a man who has anything to do with politics, my +child. Many a time my poor Potecki used to say to me, 'My angel, +cultivate contentment; you may have to live on it some day.'" + +"And you have taken his advice, madame; you are very content." + +"Why? Because I have my theory. They think that I am poor. It is poor +Madame Potecki, who earns her solitary supper by 'One, two, three, four; +one, two, three, four;' who has not a treasure in the world--except a +young Hungarian lady, who is almost a daughter to her. Well, well; but +you know my way of thinking, my dear, you laugh at it; I know you do. +You say, 'That mad little Madame Potecki.' But some day I will convince +you." + +"I am willing to be taught now, madame--seriously. Is it not wise to be +content?" + +"I am more than content, my dear; I am proud, I am vain. When I think of +all the treasures that belong to the public, and to me as one of the +public--the Turner landscapes in the National Gallery; the books and +statues in the British Museum; the bronzes and china and jewellery at +South Kensington--do you not think, my dear, that I am thankful I have +no paltry little collection in my own house that I should be ashamed of? +Then look at the care that is taken of them. I have no risk. I am not +disheartened for a day because a servant has broken my best piece of +Nankin blue. I have no trouble and no thought; it is only when I have a +little holiday that I say to myself, 'Well, shall I go and see my +Rembrandts? Or shall I look over my cases of Etruscan rings? Or shall I +go and feast my eyes on the _bleu de roi_ of a piece of jewelled +Sevres?' Oh, my love!" + +She clasped her hands in ecstasy. Her volubility had outrun itself and +got choked. + +"I will show you three vases," said she, presently, in almost a solemn +way--"I will show you three vases, in white and brown crackle, and put +all the color in the whole of my collection to shame. My dear, I have +never seen in the world anything so lovely--the soft cream-white ground, +the rich brown decoration--the beautiful, bold, graceful shape; and they +only cost sixty pounds!--sixty pounds for three, and they are worth a +kingdom! Why--But really, my dear Natalie, you walk too fast. I feel as +if I were being marched off to prison!" + +"Oh, I beg your pardon!" said the girl, laughing. "I am always +forgetting; and papa scolds me often enough for it." + +"Have you heard what I told you about those priceless vases in the South +Kensington?" + +"I am most anxious to see them, I assure you." + +"My blue-and-white," Madame Potecki continued, seriously, "I am afraid +is not always of the best. There are plenty of good pieces, it is true; +but they are not the finest feature of the collection. Oh! the Benares +brocades--I had forgotten them. Ah, my dear, these will make you open +your eyes!" + +"But don't you get bewildered, madame, with having to think of so many +possessions?" said Natalie, respectfully. + +"No," said the other, in a matter-of-fact way; "I take them one by one. +I pay a morning call here, a morning call there, when I have no +appointments, just to see that everything is going on well." + +Presently she said, + +"Ah, well, my dear, we are poor weak creatures. Here and there, in my +wanderings I have met things that I almost coveted; but see what an +impossible, monstrous collection they would make! Let me think, now. The +Raphael at Dresden; two Titian portraits in the Louvre; the Venus of +Milo--not the Medici one at all; I would not take it; I swear I would +not accept it, that trivial little creature with the yellow skin!" + +"My dear friend, the heavens will fall on you!" her companion exclaimed. + +"Wait a moment," said the little music-mistress, reflectively. "I have +not completed my collection. There is a Holy Family of Botticelli's--I +forget where I saw it. And the bust of the Empress Messalina in the +Uffizi: did you ever notice it, Natalie?" + +"No." + +"Do not forget it when you are in Florence again. You won't believe any +of the stories about her when you see the beautiful refined face; only +don't forget to remark how flat the top of her head is. Well, where are +we, my dear? The bronze head of the goddess in the Castellani +collection: I would have that; and the fighting Temeraire. Will these +do? But then, my dear, even if one had all these things, see what a +monstrous collection they would make. What should I do with them in my +lodgings, even if I had room? No; I must be content with what I have." + +By this time they had got down into South Kensington and were drawing +near one of Madame Potecki's great treasure houses. + +"Then, you see, my dear Natalie," she continued, "my ownership of these +beautiful things we are going to see is not selfish. It can be +multiplied indefinitely. You may have it too; any one may have it, and +all without the least anxiety!" + +"That is very pleasant also," said the girl, who was paying less heed +now. The forced cheerfulness that had marked her manner at starting had +in great measure left her. Her look was absent; she blindly followed her +guide through the little wicket, and into the hushed large hall. + +The silence was grateful to her; there was scarcely any one in the +place. While Madame Potecki busied herself with some catalogue or other, +the girl turned aside into a recess, to look at a cast of the effigy on +the tomb of Queen Eleanor of Castile. A tombstone stills the air around +it. Even this gilt plaster figure was impressive; it had the repose of +the dead. + +But she had not been standing there for a couple of seconds when she +heard a well-known voice behind her. + +"Natalie!" + +She knew. There was neither surprise nor shamefacedness in her look when +she turned and saw George Brand before her. Her eyes were as fearless as +ever when they met his; and they were glad, too, with a sudden joy; and +she said, quickly, + +"Ah, I thought you would come. I told Anneli." + +"It was kind of you--and brave--to let me come to see you." + +"Kind?" she said. "How could I do otherwise?" + +"But you are looking tired, Natalie." + +"I did not sleep much last night. I was thinking." + +The tears started to her eyes; she impatiently brushed them aside. + +"I know what you were thinking. That is why I came so early to see you. +You were blaming yourself for what has happened. That is not right. You +are not to blame at all. Do you think I gave you that promise for +nothing?" + +"You were always like that," she said in a low voice. "Very generous and +unselfish. Yes, I--I--was miserable; I thought if you had never known +me--" + +"If I had never known you! You think that would be a desirable thing for +me!--" + +But at this moment the hurried, anxious, half-whispered conversation had +to cease, for Madame Potecki came up. Nor was she surprised to find Mr. +Brand there. On the contrary, she said that her time was limited, and +that she could not expect other people to care for old porcelain as much +as she did; and if Mr. Brand would take her dear daughter Natalie to see +some pictures in the rooms up-stairs, she would come and find her out +by-and-by. + +"Not at all, dear madame," said Natalie, with some slight flush. "No. We +will go with you to see the three wonderful vases." + +So they went, and saw the three crackle vases, and many another piece of +porcelain and enamel and bronze; but always the clever little Polish +woman took care that she should be at some other case, so that she could +not overhear what these two had to say to each other. And they had +plenty to say. + +"Why, Natalie, where is your courage? What is the going to America? It +cannot be for ever and ever." + +"But even then," she said, in a low, hesitating voice. "If you were +never to see me again, you would blame me for it all. You would regret." + +"How can I regret that my life was made beautiful to me, if only for a +time? It was worth nothing to me before. And you are forgetting all +about the ring, and my promise to you." + +This light way of talking did not at all deceive her. What had been +torturing her all the night long was the fancy, the suspicion, that her +father was sending her lover to America, not solely with a view to the +work he should have to undertake there, but to insure a permanent +separation between herself and him. That was the cruel bit of it. And +she more than ever admired the manliness of this man, because he would +make no complaint to her. He had uttered no word of protest, for fear of +wounding her. He did not mention her father to her at all; but merely +treated this project of going to America as if it were a part of his +duty that had to be cheerfully accepted. + +"After I have once said good-bye to you Natalie" said he, "it will not +be so bad for me. I shall have my work." + +"When do you go?" she asked, with rather a white face. + +"I don't know yet. It may be a matter of days. You will let me see you +again, my darling--soon?" + +"I shall be here every morning, if you wish it" she answered. + +"To-morrow, then?" + +"To-morrow, at eleven. Anneli will come with me. I should have waited in +on the hope of seeing you this morning; but it was an old engagement +with Madame Potecki. Ah, how good she is! Do you see how she pretends to +be interested in those things?" + +"I will send her a present of some old china before I leave England," +said Brand. + +"No, no," said Natalie, with a faint smile appearing on the sad face. +"It would destroy her theory. She does not care for anything at home so +long as she possesses these public treasures. She is very content. +Indeed, she earns enough to be charitable. She has many poor +dependents." + +By-and-by Madame Potecki, with great evident reluctance, confessed that +she had to return, as one of her pupils would be at her house by +half-past twelve. But would not Mr. Brand take her dear adopted child to +see some of the pictures? It was a pity that she should be dragged away, +and so forth. + +But Natalie promptly put an end to these suggestions by saying that she +would prefer to return with Madame Potecki; and, it being now past +twelve, as soon as they got outside she engaged a cab. George Brand saw +them off, and then returned into the building. He wished to look again +at the objects she had looked at, to recollect every word she had +uttered; to recall the very tones in which she had spoken. And this +place was so hushed and quiet. + +Meanwhile, as the occupants of the cab were journeying northward, +Natalie took occasion to say to her companion, with something of a +heightened color, + +"You must not imagine, dear madame, that I expected to see Mr. Brand at +the Museum when I promised to go with you." + +"But what if you had expected, my child?" said the good-natured +music-mistress. "What harm is there?" + +"But this morning I did expect him to come, and that is why I left the +message with Anneli," continued the girl. "Because, do you know, madame, +he is going to America; and when he goes I may not see him for many +years." + +"My child!" the demonstrative little woman exclaimed, catching hold of +the girl's hand. + +But Natalie was not inclined to be sympathetic at this moment. + +"Now I wish you, dear Madame Potecki," she continued in a firm voice, +"to do me a favor. I would rather not speak to my father about Mr. +Brand. I wish you to tell him for me that so long as Mr. Brand remains +in England I shall continue to see him; and that as I do not choose he +should come to my father's house, I shall see him as I saw him this +morning." + +"My love, my love, what a frightful duty! Is it necessary?" + +"It is necessary that my father should know, certainly." + +"But what responsibility!" + +"You have no responsibility whatever. Anneli will go with me. All that I +ask of you, dear Madame Potecki, is to take the message to my father. +You will; will you not?" + +"More than that I will do for you," said the little woman, boldly. "I +see there is unhappiness; you are suffering, my child. Well, I will +plunge into it; I will see your father: this cannot be allowed. It is a +dangerous thing to interfere--who knows better than I? But to sit near +you is to be inspired; to touch your hand is to gain the courage of a +giant. Yes, I will speak to your father; all shall be put right." + +The girl scarcely heard her. + +"There is another thing I would ask of you," she said, slowly and +wistfully, "but not here. May I come to you when the lesson is over?" + +"At two: yes." + +So it was that Natalie called on her friend shortly after two o'clock +and was shown into the little parlor. She was rather pale. She sat down +at one side of the table. + +"I wished to ask your advice, dear Madame Potecki," she said, in a low +voice, and with her eyes down. "Now you must suppose a case. You must +suppose that--that two people love each other--better--better than +anything else in the world, and that they are ready to sacrifice a +great deal for each other. Well, the man is ordered away! it is a +banishment from his own country, perhaps forever; and he is very brave +about it, and will not complain. Now you must suppose that the girl is +very miserable about his going away, and blames herself; and +perhaps--perhaps wishes--to do something to show she understands his +nobleness--his devotion; and she would do anything in the world, Madame +Potecki--to prove her love to him--" + +"But, child, child, why do you tremble so?" + +"I wish you to tell me, Madame Potecki--I wish you to tell +me--whether--you would consider it unwomanly--unmaidenly--for her to go +and say to him, 'You are too brave and unselfish to ask me to go with +you. Now I offer myself to you. If you must go, why not I--your wife?" + +Madame Potecki started up in great alarm. + +"Natalie, what do you mean?" + +"I only--wished to--to ask--what you would think." + +She was very pale, and her lips were tremulous; but she did not break +down. Madame Potecki was apparently far more agitated than she was. + +"My child, my child, I am afraid you are on the brink of some wild +thing!" + +"Is that that I have repeated to you what a girl ought to do?" Natalie +said, almost calmly. "Do you think it is what my mother would have done, +Madame Potecki? They have told me she was a brave woman." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + +IN A GARDEN AT POSILIPO. + + + "--Prends mon coeur, me dit-elle, + Oui, mais a la chapelle, + Sois mon petit.... + --Plait-il + Ton petit? + --Sois mon petit mari!" + +--It was Calabressa who was gayly humming to himself; and it was well +that he could amuse himself with his _chansons_ and his cigarettes, for +his friend Edwards was proving anything but an attentive companion. The +tall, near-sighted, blond-faced man from the British Museum was far too +much engrossed by the scene around him. They were walking along the +quays at Naples; and it so happened that at this moment all the +picturesque squalor and lazy life of the place were lit up by the glare +reflected from a wild and stormy sunset. The tall, pink-fronted houses; +the mules and oxen with their brazen yokes and tinkling bells; the +fruit-sellers, and fish-sellers, and water-carriers, in costumes of many +hues; the mendicant friars with their cloak and hood of russet-brown; +the priests black and clean-shaven; the groups of women, swarthy of +face, with head-dresses of red or yellow, clustered round the stalls; +the children, in rags of brown, and scarlet, and olive-green, lying +about the pavement as if artists had posed them there--all these formed +a picture which was almost bewildering in its richness of color, and was +no doubt rendered all the more brilliant because of the powerful +contrast with the dark and driven sea. For the waters out there were +racing in before a stiff breeze, and springing high on the fortresses +and rocks; and the clouds overhead were seething and twisting, with many +a sudden flash of orange; and then, far away beyond all this color and +motion and change, rose the vast and gloomy bulk of Vesuvius, +overshadowed and thunderous, as if the mountain were charged with a +coming storm. + +Calabressa grew impatient, despite his careless song. + + "--Me seras tu fidele.... + --Comme une tourterelle. + --Eh bieu, ca va.... + Ca va! + --Ca me va! + --Comme ca, ca me va! + +--_Diable_, Monsieur Edouarts! You are very silent. You do not know +where we are going, perhaps?" + +Edwards started, as if he were waking from a reverie. + +"Oh yes, Signor Calabressa," said he, "I am not likely to forget that. +Perhaps I think more seriously about it than you. To you it is nothing. +But I cannot forget, you see, that you and I are practically conniving +at a murder." + +"Hush, hush, my dear friend!" said Calabressa, glancing round. "Be +discreet! And what a foolish phrase, too! You--you whose business is +merely to translate; to preach; to educate a poor devil of a +Russian--what have you to do with it? And to speak of murder! Bah! You +do not understand the difference, then, between killing a man as an act +of private anger and revenge, and executing a man for crimes against +society? My good friend Edouarts, you have lived all your life among +books, but you have not learned any logic--no!" + +Edwards was not inclined to go into any abstract argument + +"I will do what I have been appointed to do," he said, curtly; "but that +cannot prevent my wishing that it had not to be done at all." + +"And who knows?" said Calabressa, lightly. "Perhaps, if you are so +fearful about your small share, your very little share--it is no more +than that of the garcon who helps one on with his coat: is he accessary, +too, if a rogue has to be punished?--is he responsible for the sentence, +also, if he brushes the boots of the judge?--or the servant of the court +who sweeps out the room, is he guilty if there is a miscarriage of +justice? No, no; my dear friend Edouarts, do not alarm yourself. Then, I +was saying, perhaps it may not be necessary, after all. You perceived, +my friend, that when the proposal of his eminence the Cardinal was +mentioned, the Secretary Granaglia smiled, and I, thoughtless, laughed. +You perceived it, did you not?" + +By this time they were in the Chiaja, beyond the Villa Reale; and there +were fewer people about. Calabressa stopped and confronted his +companion. For the purposes of greater emphasis, he rested his right +elbow in the palm of his left hand, while his forefinger was at the +point of his nose. + +"What?" said he, in this striking attitude, "what if we were both +fools--ha? The Secretary Granaglia and myself--what if we were both +fools?" + +Calabressa abandoned his pose, linked his arm within that of his +companion, and walked on with him. + +"Come, I will implant something in your mind. I will throw out a fancy; +it may take root and flourish; if not, who is the worse? Now, if the +Council were really to entertain that proposal of Zaccatelli?" + +He regarded his friend Edouarts. + +"You observed, I say, that Granaglia smiled: to him it was ludicrous. I +laughed: to me it was farcical--the chatter of a _bavard_. The Pope +become the patron of a secret society! The priests become our friends +and allies! Very well, my friend; but listen. The little minds see what +is absurd; the great minds are serious. Granaglia is a little devil of +courage; but he is narrow; he is practical; he has no imagination. I: +what am I?--careless, useless, also a _bavard_, if you will. But it +occurred to me, after all, when I began to think--what a great man, a +great mind, might say to this proposal. Take a man like Lind: see what +he could make of it! 'Do not laugh at it any more, Calabressa,' said I +to myself, 'until you hear the opinion of wiser men than yourself.'" + +He gripped Edwards's arm tight. + +"Listen. To become the allies of the priests it is not necessary to +believe everything the priests say. On the other hand, they need not +approve all that we are doing, if only they withdraw their opposition. +Do you perceive the possibility now? Do you think of the force of that +combination? The multitudes of the Catholics encouraged to join!--the +Vatican the friend and ally of the Council of the Seven Stars!" + +He spoke the last words in a low voice, but he were a proud look. + +"And if this proposal were entertained," said Edwards, meditatively, "of +course, they would abandon this other business." + +"My good friend," said Calabressa, confidentially, "I know that Lind, +who sees things with a large vision, is against it. He consents--as you +consent to do your little outside part--against his own opinion. More; +if he had been on the Council the decree would never have been granted, +though De Bedros and a dozen of his daughters had demanded it. +'Calabressa,' he said to me, 'it will do great mischief in England if it +is known that we are connected with it.' Well, you see, all this would +be avoided if they closed with the Cardinal's offer." + +"You are sanguine, Signor Calabressa," said the other. + +"Besides, the thirty thousand lire!"' said Calabressa, eagerly. "Do you +know what that is? Ah, you English have always too much money!" + +"No doubt," said Edwards, with a smile. "We are all up to the neck in +gold." + +"Thirty thousand lire a year, and the favor of the Vatican; what fools +Granaglia and I were to laugh! But perhaps we will find that the Council +were wiser." + +They had now got out to Posilipo, and the stormy sunset had waned, +leaving the sky overclouded and dusk. Calabressa, having first looked up +and down the road, stopped by the side of a high wall, over which +projected a number of the broken, gray-green, spiny leaves of the +cactus--a hedge at the foot of the terrace above. + +"_Peste!_" said he. "How the devil is one to find it out in the dark?" + +"Find what out?" + +"My good friend," said he, in a whisper, "you are not able by chance to +see a bit of thread--a bit of red thread--tied round one of those big +leaves?" + +Edwards glanced up. + +"Not I." + +"Ah, well, we must run the risk. Perhaps by accident there may be a +meeting." + +They walked on for some time, Calabressa becoming more and more +watchful. They paused to let a man driving a wagon and a pair of oxen go +by; and then Calabressa, enjoining his companion to remain where he was, +went on alone. + +The changing sky had opened somewhat overhead, and there was a wan +twilight shining through the parted clouds. Edwards, looking after +Calabressa, could have fancied that the dark figure had disappeared like +a ghost; but the old albino had merely crossed the road, opened the one +half of a huge gate, and entered a garden. + +It was precisely like the gardens of the other villas along the +highway--cut in terraces along the steep side of the hill, with winding +pathways, and marble lions here and there, and little groves of orange +and olive and fig trees; while on one side the sheer descent was guarded +by an enormous cactus hedge. The ground was very unequal: on one small +plateau a fountain was playing--the trickling of the water the only +sound audible in the silence. + +Calabressa took out his pocket-book, and tore a leaf from it. + +"The devil!" he muttered to himself. "How is one to write in the dark?" + +But he managed to scrawl the word "Barsanti;" then he wrapped the paper +round a small pebble and approached the fountain. By putting one foot on +the edge of the stone basin beneath he could reach over to the curved +top, and there he managed to drop the missive into some aperture +concealed under the lip. He stepped back, dried his hand with his +handkerchief, and then went down one of the pathways to a lower level of +the garden. + +Here he easily found the entrance to an ordinary sort of grotto--a +narrow cave winding inward and ending in a piece of fancy rockwork down +which the water was heard to trickle. But he did not go to the end--he +stopped about half-way and listened. There was no sound whatever in the +dark, except the plash of the tiny water-fall. + +Then there was a heavy grating noise, and in the black wall before him +appeared a vertical line of orange light. This sudden gleam was so +bewildering to the eyes that Calabressa could not see who it was that +come out to him; he only knew that the stranger waited for him to pass +on into the outer air. + +"It is cooler here. To your business, friend Calabressa." + +The moment Calabressa recognized this tall, military-looking man, with +the closely cropped bullet-head and long silver-white mustache, he +whipped off his cap, and said, anxiously, + +"A thousand pardons, Excellency! a thousand pardons! Do I interrupt? May +not I see Fossati?" + +"It is unnecessary. There is much business to-night. One must breathe +the air sometimes." + +Calabressa for once had completely lost his _sang-froid_. He could not +speak for stammering. + +"I assure you, your Excellency, it is death to me to think that I +interrupt you." + +"But why did you come, then, my friend? To the point." + +"Zaccatelli," the other managed to get out. + +"Well?" + +"There was a proposal. Some days ago I saw Granaglia." + +"Well?" + +"Pardon me, Excellency. If I had known, not for worlds would I have +called you--" + +"Come, come my Calabressa," said the other, good-naturedly. "No more +apologies. What is it you have to say?--the proposal made by the +Cardinal? Yes; we know about that." + +"And it has not been accepted?--the decree remains?" + +"You waste your breath, my friend. The decree remains, certainly. We are +not children; we do not play. What more, my Calabressa?" + +But Calabressa had to collect his thoughts. Then he said, slowly, + +"It occurred to me when I was in England--there was a poor devil there +who would have thrown away his life in a useless act of revenge--well--" + +"Well, you brought him over here," said the other, interrupting him. +"Your object? Ah, Lind and you being old comrades; and Lind appearing to +you to be in a difficulty. But did Lind approve?" + +"Not quite," said Calabressa, still hesitating. "He allowed us to try. +He was doubtful himself." + +"I should have thought so," said the other, ironically. "No, good +Calabressa; we cannot accept the services of a maniac. The night has got +dark; I cannot see whether you are surprised. How do we know? The man +Kirski has been twice examined--once in Venice, once this morning, when +you went down to the _Luisa_; the reports the same. What! To have a +maniac blundering about the gates, attracting every one's notice by his +gibberish; then he is arrested with a pistol or a knife in his hand; he +talks nonsense about some Madonna; he is frightened into a confession, +and we become the laughing-stock of Europe! Impossible, impossible, my +Calabressa: where were your wits? No wonder Lind was doubtful--" + +"The man is capable of being taught," said Calabressa, humbly. + +"We need not waste more breath, my friend. To-night Lind will be +reminded why it was necessary that the execution of this decree was +intrusted to the English section: he must not send any Russian madman to +compromise us." + +"Then I must take him back, your Excellency!" + +"No; send him back--with the English scholar. You will remain in Naples, +Calabressa. There is something stirring that will interest you." + +"I am at your service, Excellency." + +"Good-night, dear friend." + +The figure beside him had disappeared almost before he had time to +return the salutation, and he was left to find his way down to the gate, +taking care not to run unawares on one of the long cactus spines. He +discovered Edwards precisely where he had left him. + +"Ah, Monsieur Edouarts, now you may clap your hands--now you may shout +an English 'hurrah!' For you, at all events, there is good news." + +"That project has been abandoned, then?" said Edwards, eagerly. + +"No, no, no!" said Calabressa, loftily; as if he had never entertained +such a possibility. "Do you think the Council is to be played with--is +to be bribed by so many and so many lire? No, no. Its decree is +inviolable." + +"Well, then?" + +"Well, then, some stupidities of our Russian friend have saved you: they +know everything, these wonderful people: they say, 'No; we will not +trust the affair to a madman.' Do you perceive? What you have to do now +is to take Kirski back to England." + +"And I am not wanted any longer?" said the other, with the same +eagerness. + +"I presume not. I am. I remain in Naples. For you, you are free. Away +to England! I give you my blessing; and to-night--to-night you will give +me a bottle of wine." + +But presently he added, as they still walked on, + +"Friend Edouarts, do you think I should be humiliated because my little +plan has been refused? No: it was born of idleness. My freedom was new +to me; over in England I had nothing to do. And when Lind objected, I +talked him over. _Peste_, if those fellows of Society had not got at the +Russian, all might have been well." + +"You will forgive my pointing out," said Edwards, in quite a facetious +way, "that all would not have been so well with me, for one. I am very +glad to be able to wash my hands of it. You shall have not only one but +two bottles of wine with supper, if you please." + +"Well, friend Edouarts. I bring you the good news, but I am not the +author of it. No; I must confess, I would rather have had my plan +carried out. But what matter? One does one's best from time to time--the +hours go by--at the end comes sleep, and no one can torment you more." + +They walked on for a time in silence. And now before them lay the +wonderful sight of Naples ablaze with a dusky yellow radiance in the +dark; and far away beyond the most distant golden points, high up in the +black deeps of the sky, the constant, motionless, crimson glow of +Vesuvius told them where the peaks of the mountain, themselves unseen +towered above the sea. + +By-and-by they plunged into the great murmuring city. + +"You are going back to England, Monsieur Edouarts. You will take Kirski +to Mr. Brand, he will be reinstated in his work; Englishmen do not +forget their promises. Then I have another little commission for you." + +He went into one of the small jeweller's shops, and, after a great deal +of haggling--for his purse was not heavy, and he knew the ways of his +countrymen--he bought a necklace of pink coral. It was carefully wrapped +in wool and put into a box. Then they went outside again. + +"You will give this little present, my good friend Edouarts--you will +take it, with my compliments, to my beautiful, noble child Natalie; and +you will tell her that it did not cost much, but it is only a +message--to show her that Calabressa still thinks of her, and loves, her +always." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. + +FRIEND AND SWEETHEART. + + +Madame Potecki was a useful enough adviser in the small and ordinary +affairs of every-day life, but face to face with a great emergency she +became terrified and helpless. + +"My dear, my dear," she kept repeating, in a flurried sort of way, "you +must not do anything rash--you must not do anything wild. Oh, my dear, +take care! it is so wicked for children to disobey their parents!" + +"I am no longer a child, Madame Potecki; I am a woman: I know what seems +to me just and unjust; and I only wish to do right." She was now quite +calm. She had mastered that involuntary tremulousness of the lips. It +was the little Polish lady who was agitated. + +"My dear Natalie, I will go to your father. I said I would go--even with +your message--though it is a frightful task. But how can I tell him that +you have this other project in your mind? Oh, my dear, be cautious! +don't do anything you will have to repent of in after-years!" + +"You need not tell him, dear Madame Potecki, if you are alarmed," said +the girl. "I will tell him myself, when I have come to a decision. So +you cannot say what one ought to do in such circumstances? You cannot +tell me what my mother, for example, would have done in such a case?" + +"Oh, I can; I can, my dear," said the other, eagerly. "At least I can +tell you what is best and safest. Is it not for a girl to go by her +father's advice--her father's wishes? Then she is safe. Anything else is +wild, dangerous. My dear, you are far too impulsive. You do not think of +consequences. It is all the affair of the moment with you, and how you +can do some one you love a kindness at the instant. Your heart is warm, +and you are quick to act. All the more reason, I say, that you should go +by some one else's judgment; and who can guide you better than your own +father?" + +"I know already what my father wishes," said Natalie. + +"Then why not go by that, my dear? Be sure it is the safest. Do you +think I would take it on me to say otherwise? Ah, my clear child, +romance is very beautiful at your age; but one may sacrifice too much +for it." + +"It is not a question of romance at all," said Natalie, looking down. +"It is a question of what it is right that a girl should do, in +faithfulness to one whom she loves. But perhaps it is better not to +argue it, for one sees so differently at different ages. And I am very +grateful to you, dear Madame Potecki, for agreeing to take that message +to my father; but I will tell him myself." + +She rose. The little woman came instantly and caught her by both hands. + +"Is my child going to quarrel with me because I am old and +unsympathetic?" + +"Oh no; do not think that!" said Natalie, quickly. + +"What you say is quite true, my dear; different ages see differently. +When I was at your age, perhaps I was as liable as anyone to let my +heart get the better of my head. And do I regret it?" The little woman +sighed. "Many a time they warned me against marrying one who did not +stand well with the authorities. But I--I had my opinions, too; I was a +patriot, like the rest. We were all mad with enthusiasm. Ah, the secret +meetings in Warsaw!--the pride of them!--we girls would not marry one +who was not a patriot. But that is all over now; and here am I an old +woman, with nothing left but my old masters, and my china, and my 'One, +two, three, four; one, two, three, four.'" + +Here a knock outside warned Natalie that she must leave, another pupil, +no doubt, having arrived; and so she bade good-bye to her friend, not +much enlightened or comforted by her counsel. + +That evening Mr. Lind brought Beratinsky home with him to dinner--an +unusual circumstance, for at one time Beratinsky had wished to become a +suitor for Natalie's hand, and had had that project very promptly +knocked on the head by Lind himself. Thereafter he had come but seldom +to the house, and never without a distinct invitation. On this evening +the two men talked almost exclusively between themselves, and Natalie +was not sorry to be allowed to remain an inattentive listener. She was +thinking of other things. + +When Beratinsky had gone, Lind turned to his daughter, and said to her +pleasantly, + +"Well, Natalie, what have you been about to-day?" + +"First of all," said she, regarding him with those fearless eyes of +hers, "I went to South Kensington Museum with Madame Potecki. Mr. Brand +was there." + +His manner changed instantly. + +"By appointment?" he said, sharply. + +"No," she answered. "I thought he would call here, and I told Anneli +where we had gone." + +Lind betrayed no expression of annoyance. He only said, coldly, + +"Last night I told you it was my wish that he and you should have no +further communication with each other." + +"Yes; but is it reasonable, is it fair, is it possible, papa?" she said, +forgetting for a moment her forced composure. "Do you think I can forget +why he is going away?" + +"Apparently you do not know why he is going away," her father said. "He +is going to America because his duty commands that he should; because he +has work to do there of more importance than sentimental entanglements +in this country. He understands himself the necessity of his going." + +The girl's cheeks burnt red, and she sat silent. How could she accuse +her own father of prevarication? But the crisis was a momentous one. + +"You forget, papa," she said at length, in a low voice, "that when you +returned from abroad and got Mr. Brand's letter, you came to me. You +said that if there was any further question of a--a marriage--between +Mr. Brand and myself, you would have to send him to America. I was to be +the cause of his banishment." + +"I spoke hastily--in anger," her father said, with some impatience. +"Quite apart from any such question, Mr. Brand knows that it is of great +importance some one like himself should go to Philadelphia; and at the +moment I don't see any one who could do as well. Have you anything +further to say?" + +"No, papa--except good night." She kissed him on the forehead and went +away to her own room. + +That was a night of wild unrest for Natalie Lind. It was her father +himself who had represented to her all that banishment from his native +country meant to an Englishman; and in her heart of hearts she believed +that it was through her this doom had befallen George Brand. She knew he +would not complain. He professed to her that it was only in the +discharge of an ordinary duty he was leaving England: others had +suffered more for less reason; it was nothing; why should she blame +herself? But all the same, through this long, restless, agonizing night +she accused herself of having driven him from his country and his +friends, of having made an exile of him. And again and again she put +before herself the case she had submitted to Madame Potecki; and again +and again she asked herself what her own mother would have done, with +her lover going away to a strange land. + +In the morning, long before it was light, and while as yet she had not +slept for a second, she rose, threw a dressing-gown round her, lit the +gas, and went to the little escritoire that stood by the window. Her +hand was trembling when she sat down to write, but it was not with the +cold. There was a proud look on her face. This was what she wrote: + +"My lover and husband,--You are going away from your own country, +perhaps forever; and I think it is partly through me that all this has +happened. What can I do? Only this; that I offer to go with you, if you +will take me. I am your wife; why should you go alone?"' + +There was no signature. She folded the paper, and placed it in an +envelope, and carefully locked it up. Then she put out the light and +went back to bed again, and fell into a sound, happy, contented +sleep--the untroubled sleep of a child. + +Then in the morning how bright and light-hearted she was! + +Anneli could not understand this change that had suddenly come over her +young mistress. She said little, but there was a happy light on her +face; she sung "Du Schwert an meiner Linken" in snatches, as she was +dressing her hair; and she presented Anneli with a necklace of Turkish +silver coins. + +She was down at South Kensington Museum considerably before eleven +o'clock. She idly walked Anneli through the various rooms, pointing out +to her this and that; and as the little Dresden maid had not been in the +Museum before, her eyes were wide open at the sight of such beautiful +things. She was shown masses of rich tapestry and cases of Japanese +lacquer-work; she was shown collections of ancient jewellery and glass; +she went by sunny English landscapes, and was told the story of solemn +cartoons. In the midst of it all George Brand appeared; and the little +German girl, of her own accord, and quite as deftly as Madame Potecki, +devoted herself to the study of some screens of water-colors, just as if +she were one of the Royal Academy pupils. + +"We have been looking over Madame Potecki's treasures once more," said +Natalie. He was struck by the happy brightness of her face. + +"Ah, indeed!" said he; and he went and brought a couple of chairs, that +together they might regard, if they were so minded, one of those vast +cartoons. "Well, I have good news, Natalie. I do not start until a clear +week hence. So we shall have six mornings here--six mornings all to +ourselves. Do you know what that means to me?" + +She took the chair he offered her. She did not look appalled by this +intelligence of his early departure. + +"It means six more days of happiness: and do you not think I shall look +back on them with gratitude? And there is not to be a word said about my +going. No; it is understood that we cut off the past and the future for +these six days. We are here; we can speak to each other; that is +enough."' + +"But how can one help thinking of the future?" said she, with a mock +mournfulness. "You are going away alone." + +"No, not quite alone." + +She looked up quickly. + +"Why, you know what Evelyn is--the best-hearted of friends," he said to +her. "He insists on going over to America with me, and even talks of +remaining a year or two. He pretends to be anxious to study American +politics." + +He could not understand why she laughed--though it was a short, quick, +hysterical laugh, very near to tears. + +"You remind me of one of Mr. Browning's poems," she said, half in +apology. "It is about a man who has a friend and a sweetheart. You don't +remember it, perhaps?" + +He thought for a moment. + +"The fact is," he said, "that when I think of Browning's poems, all +along the line of them, there are some of them seem to burn like fire, +and I cannot see the others." + +"This is a very modest little one," said she. "It is a poor poet +starving in a garret; and he tells you he has a friend beyond the sea; +and he knows that if he were to fall ill, and to wake up out of his +sickness, he would find his friend there, tending him like the gentlest +of nurses, even though he got nothing but grumblings about his noisy +boots. And the--the poor fellow--" + +She paused for a second. + +"He goes on to tell about his sweetheart--who has ruined him--to whom he +has sacrificed his life and his peace and fame--and what would she do? +He says, + + "'She + --I'll tell you--calmly would decree + That I should roast at a slow fire, + If that would compass her desire + And make her one whom they invite + To the famous ball to-morrow night.' + +That is--the difference--between a friend and a sweetheart--" + +He did not notice that she spoke rather uncertainly, and that her eyes +were wet. + +"What do you mean, Natalie?" + +"That it is a good thing for you that you have a friend. There is one, +at all events--who will--who will not let you go away alone." + +"My darling!" he said, "what new notion is this you have got into your +head? You do not blame yourself for that too? Why, you see, it is a very +simple thing for Lord Evelyn, who is an idle man, and has no particular +ties binding him, to spend a few months in the States; and when he once +finds out that the voyage across is one of the pleasantest holidays a +man can take, I have no doubt I shall see him often enough. Now, don't +let us talk any more about that--except this one point. Have you +promised your father that you will not write to me?" + +"Oh no; how could I?" + +"And may I write to you?" + +"I shall live from week to week expecting your letters," she said +simply. + +"Then we shall not say another word about it," said he, lightly. "We +have six days to be together: no one can rob us of them. Come, shall we +go and have a look at the English porcelain that is on this floor? We +have whole heaps of old Chelsea and Crown Derby and that kind of thing +at the Beeches: I think I must try and run down there before I go, and +send you some. What use is it to me?" + +"Oh no, I hope you won't do that," she said quickly, as she rose. + +"You don't care about it, perhaps?" + +She seemed embarrassed for a moment. + +"For old china?" she said, after a moment. "Oh yes, I do. But--but--I +think you may find something happen that would make it unnecessary--I +mean it is very kind of you--but I hope you will not think of sending me +any." + +"What do you mean? What is about to happen?" + +"It is all a mystery and a secret as yet," she said, with a smile. She +seemed so much more light-hearted than she had been the day before. + +Then, as they walked by those cases, and admired this or that, she would +recur to this forth-coming departure of his, despite of him. And she was +not at all sad about it. She was curious; that was all. Was there any +difficulty in getting a cabin at short notice? It was from Liverpool +the big steamers sailed, was it not? And it was a very different thing, +she understood, travelling in one of those huge vessels, and crossing +the Channel in a little cockle-shell. He would no doubt make many +friends on board. Did single ladies ever make the voyage? Could a single +lady and her maid get a cabin to themselves? It would not be so very +tedious, if one could get plenty of books. And so forth, and so forth. +She did not study the Chelsea shepherdesses very closely. + +"I'll tell you what I wish you would do, Natalie," said he. + +"I will do it," she answered. + +"When Lord Evelyn comes back--some day I wish you would take Anneli with +you for a holiday--and Evelyn would take you down to have a look over +the Beeches. You could be back the same night. I should like you to see +my mother's portrait." + +She did not answer. + +"Will you do that?" + +"You will know before long," she said, in a low voice, "why I need not +promise that to you. But that, or anything else I am willing to do, if +you wish it." + +The precious moments sped quickly. And as they walked through the almost +empty rooms--how silent these were, with the occasional foot-falls on +the tiled floors, and once or twice the distant sounding of a bell +outside!--again and again he protested against her saying another word +about his going away. What did it matter? Once the pain of parting was +over, what then? He had a glad work before him. She must not for a +moment think she had anything to do with it. And he could not regret +that he had ever met her, when he would have these six mornings of happy +intercommunion to think over, when the wide seas separated them? + +"Natalie," said he, reproachfully, "do you forget the night you and I +heard _Fidelio_ together? And you think I shall regret ever having seen +you." + +She smiled to herself. Her hand clasped a certain envelope that he could +not see. + +Then the time came for their seeking out Anneli. But as they were going +through the twilight of a corridor she stopped him, and her usually +frank eyes were downcast. She took out that envelope. + +"Dearest," she said, almost inaudibly, "this is something I wish you to +read after Anneli and I am gone. I think you will--you will not +misunderstand me. If you think--it is--it is too bold, you will remember +that I have--no mother to advise me; and--and you will be kind, and not +answer. Then I shall know." + +Ten minutes thereafter he was standing alone, in the broad daylight +outside, reading the lines she had written early that morning, and in +every one of them he read the firm and noble character of the woman he +loved. He was almost bewildered by the proud-spirited frankness of her +message to him; and involuntarily he thought of the poor devil of a poet +in the garret who spoke of his faithful friend and his worthless +mistress. + +"One is fortunate indeed to have a friend like Evelyn," he said to +himself. "But when and has, besides that, the love of a woman like +this--then the earth holds something worth living for." + +He looked at the brief, proud, pathetic message again--"_I am your wife: +why should you go alone?_" It was Natalie herself speaking in every +word. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII. + +INTERVENTION. + + +The more that Madame Potecki thought over the communication made to her +by Natalie, the more alarmed she became. Her pupils received but a very +mechanical sort of guidance that afternoon. All through the "One, two, +three, four; one, two, three, four" she was haunted by an uneasy +consciousness that her protest had not been nearly strong enough. The +girl had not seemed in the least impressed by her counsel. And suppose +this wild project were indeed carried out, might not she, that is, +Madame Potecki, be regarded as an accomplice if she remained silent and +did not intervene? + +On the other hand, although she and Ferdinand Lind were friends of many +years standing, she had never quite got over a certain fear of him. She +guessed pretty well what underlay that pleasant, plausible exterior of +his. And she was not at all sure that, if she went to Mr. Lind and told +him that in such and such circumstances his daughter meant to go to +America as the wife of George Brand, the first outburst of his anger +might not fall on herself. She was an intermeddler. What concern of hers +was it? He might even accuse her of having connived at the whole affair, +especially during his absence in Philadelphia. + +But after all, the little Polish lady was exceedingly fond of this +girl; and she resolved to go at all hazards and see whether something +could not be done to put matters straight. She would call at the +chambers in Lisle Street, and make sure of seeing Mr. Lind alone. She +would venture to remind him that his daughter was grown up--a woman, not +to be treated as a child. As she had been altogether on the father's +side in arguing with Natalie, so she would be altogether on the +daughter's side in making these representations to Mr. Lind. Perhaps +some happy compromise would result. + +She was, however, exceedingly nervous when, on the following afternoon, +she called at Lisle Street, and was preceded up-stairs by the stout old +German. In the room into which she was shown Reitzei was seated. Reitzei +received her very graciously; they were old friends. But although Madame +Potecki on ordinary occasions was fond of listening to the sound of her +own voice, she seemed now quite incapable of saying anything. Reitzei +had been fortunate enough to hear the new barytone sing at a private +house on the previous evening; she did not even ask what impression had +been produced. + +Then Mr. Lind came into the room, and Reitzei left. + +"How do you do, Madame Potecki?" said he, somewhat curtly. + +She took it that he was offended because she had come on merely private +affairs to his place of business; and this did not tend to lessen her +embarrassment. However, she made a brave plunge. + +"You are surprised," she said, "to find me calling upon you here, are +you not? Yes; but I will explain. You see, my dear friend, I wished to +see you alone--" + +"Yes, yes, Madame Potecki; I understand. What is your news?" + +"It is--about Natalie," she managed to say, and then all the methods of +beginning that she had studied went clean out of her mind; and she was +reduced to an absolute silence. + +He did not seem in the least impatient. + +"Yes; about Natalie?" he repeated, taking up a paper-knife, and +beginning to write imaginary letters on the leather of the desk before +him. + +"You will say to me, 'Why do you interfere?'" the little woman managed +to say at last. "Meddlers do harm; they are not thanked. But then, my +dear friend, Natalie is like my own child to me; for her what would I +not do?" + +Mr. Lind could not fail to see that his visitor was very nervous and +agitated: perhaps it was to give her time to compose herself that he +said, leisurely, + +"Yes, Madame Potecki; I know that you and she are great friends; and it +is a good thing that the child should have some one to keep her company; +perhaps she is a little too much alone. Well, what do you wish to say +about her? You run no risk with me. You will not be misunderstood. I +know you are not likely to say anything unkind about Natalie." + +"Unkind!" she exclaimed; and now she had recovered herself somewhat. +"Who could do that? Oh no, my dear friend; oh no!" + +Here was another awkward pause. + +"My dear Madame Potecki," said Mr. Lind, with a smile, "shall I speak +for you? You do not like to say what you have come to say. Shall I speak +for you? This is it, is it not? You have become aware of that +entanglement that Natalie has got into. Very well. Perhaps she has told +you. Perhaps she has told you also that I have forbidden her to have any +communication with--well, let us speak frankly--Mr. Brand. Very well. +You go with her to the South Kensington Museum; you meet Mr. Brand +there. Naturally you think if that comes to my ears I shall suspect you +of having planned the meeting; and you would rather come and assure me +that you had nothing to do with it. Is it so?" + +"My dear friend," said Madame Potecki, quickly, "I did not come to you +about myself at all! What am I? What matters what happens to an old +woman like me? It is not about myself, it is about Natalie that I have +come to you. Ah, the dear, beautiful child!--how can one see her +unhappy, and not try to do something? Why should she be unhappy? She is +young, beautiful, loving; my dear friend, do you wonder that she has a +sweetheart?--and one who is so worthy of her, too: one who is not +selfish, who has courage, who will be kind to her. Then I said to +myself, 'Ah, what a pity to have father and daughter opposed to each +other!' Why might not one step in and say, 'Come, and be friends. You +love each other: do not have this coldness that makes a young heart so +miserable!'" + +She had talked quickly and eagerly at last; she was trembling with +excitement, she had her eyes fixed on his face to catch the first +symptom of acquiescence. + +But, on the contrary, Mr. Lind remained quite impassive, and he said, +coldly, + +"This is a different matter altogether, Madame Potecki. I do not blame +you for interfering; but I must tell you at once that your interference +is not likely to be of much use. You see, there are reasons which I +cannot explain to you, but which are very serious, why any proposal of +marriage between Mr. Brand and Natalie is not to be entertained for a +moment. The thing is quite impossible. Very well. She knows this; she +knows that I wish all communication between them to cease; nevertheless, +she says she will see him every day until he goes. How can you wonder +that she is unhappy? Is it not her own doing?" + +"If she was in reality my child, that is not the way I would speak," +said the little woman, boldly. + +"Unfortunately, my dear Madame Potecki," said Mr. Lind, blandly, "I +cannot, as I say, explain to you the reasons which make such a marriage +impossible, or you yourself would say it was impossible. Very well, +then. If you wish to do a service to your friend Natalie--if you wish to +see her less unhappy, you know what advice to give her. A girl who +perseveres in wilful disobedience is not likely to be very contented in +her mind." + +Madame Potecki sat silent and perplexed. This man seemed so firm, so +reasonable, so assured, it was apparently hopeless to expect any +concession from him. And yet what was the use of her going away merely +to repeat the advice she had already given? + +"And in any case," he continued, lightly, "it is not an affair for you +to be deeply troubled about, my dear Madame Potecki; on the contrary, it +is a circumstance of little moment. If Natalie chooses to indulge this +sentiment--well, the fate of empires does not hang on it, and in a +little while it will be all right. Youth soon recovers from small +disappointments; the girl is not morbid or melancholy. Moreover, she has +plenty to occupy her mind with: do not fear that she will be permanently +unhappy." + +All this gave Natalie's friend but scant consolation. She knew something +of the girl, she knew it was not a light matter that had made her +resolve to share banishment with her lover rather than that he should +depart alone. + +"Yes, she is acting contrary to my wishes," continued Mr. Lind, who saw +that his visitor was anxious and chagrined. "But why should you vex +yourself with that, my dear madame?--why, indeed? It is only for a few +days. When Mr. Brand leaves for America, then she will settle down to +her old ways. This episode of sentiment will soon be forgotten. Do not +fear for your friend Natalie; she has a healthy constitution; she is +not likely to sigh away her life." + +"But you do not understand, Mr. Lind!" Madame Potecki exclaimed +suddenly. "You do not understand. When he leaves for America, there is +to be an end? No! You are not aware, then, that if he goes to America, +Natalie will go also?" + +She had spoken quickly, breathlessly, not taking much notice of her +words, but she was appalled by the effect they produced. Lind started, +as if he had been struck; and for a second, as he regarded her, the eyes +set under the heavy brows burnt like coals, and she noticed a curious +paleness in his face, especially in the lips. But this lasted only for +an instant. When he spoke, he was quite calm, and was apparently +considering each word. + +"Are you authorized to bring me this message?" he said, slowly. + +"Oh no; oh no!" the little woman exclaimed. "I assure you, my dear +friend, I came to you because I thought something was about to +happen--something that might be prevented. Ah, you don't know how I love +that darling child; and to see her unhappy, and resolved, perhaps, to +make some great mistake in her life, how could I help interfering?" + +"So," continued Lind, apparently weighing every word, "this is what she +is bent on! If Brand goes to America, she will go with him?" + +"I--I--am afraid so," stammered Madame Potecki. "That is what I gathered +from her--though it was only an imaginary case she spoke of. But she was +pale, and trembling, and how could I stand by and not do something?" + +He did not answer; his lips were firm set. Unconsciously he was pressing +the point of the paper-knife into the leather; it snapped in two. He +threw the pieces aside, and said, with a sudden lightness of manner, + +"Ah, well, my dear madame, you know young people are sometimes very +headstrong, and difficult to manage. We must see what can be done in +this case. You have not told Natalie you were coming to me?" + +"No. She asked me at first; then she said she would tell you herself." + +He regarded her for a second. + +"There is no reason why you should say you have been here?" + +"Perhaps not, perhaps not," Madame Potecki said, doubtfully. "No; there +is no necessity. But if one were sure that the dear child were to be +made any happier--" + +She did not complete the sentence. + +"I think you may leave the whole affair in my hands, my dear Madame +Potecki," said Lind, in his usual courteous fashion. He spoke, indeed, +as if it were a matter of the most trifling importance. "I think I can +promise you that Natalie shall not be allowed to imperil the happiness +of her life by taking any rash steps. In the mean time, I am your debtor +that you have come and told me. It was considerate of you, Madame +Potecki; I am obliged to you." + +The little woman was practically dismissed. She rose, still doubtful, +and hesitated. But what more could she say? + +"I am not to tell her, then?" she said. + +"If you please, not." + +When he had graciously bowed her out, he returned to his seat at the +desk; and then the forced courtesy of his manner was abandoned. His +brows gathered down; his lips were again firm set; he bent one of the +pieces of the paper-knife until that snapped too; and when some one +knocked at the door, he answered sharply in German. + +It was Gathorne Edwards who entered. + +"Well, you have got back?" he said, with but scant civility. "Where is +Calabressa?" + +The tall, pale, stooping man looked round with some caution. + +"There is no one--no one but Reitzei," said Lind, impatiently. + +"Calabressa is detained in Naples--the General's orders," said the +other, in rather a low voice. "I did not write--I thought it was not +safe to put anything on paper; more especially as we discovered that +Kirski was being watched." + +"No wonder," said Lind, scornfully. "A fool of a madman being taken +about by a fool of a mountebank!" + +Edwards stared at him. Surely this man, who was usually the most +composed, and impenetrable, and suave of men, must have been +considerably annoyed thus to give way to a petulant temper. + +"But the result, Edwards: well?" + +"Refused!" + +Lind laughed sardonically. + +"Who could have doubted? Of course the council do not think that I +approved of that mad scheme?" + +"At all events, sir," said Edwards, submissively, "you permitted it." + +"Permitted it! Yes; to please old Calabressa, who imagines himself a +diplomatist. But who could have doubted what the end would be? Well, +what further?" + +"I understand that a message is on its way to you from the council," +said the other, speaking in still lower tones, "giving further +instructions. They consider it of great importance that--it--should be +done by one of the English section; so that no one may imagine it arises +from a private revenge." + +Lind was toying with one of the pieces of the broken paper-knife. + +"Zaccatelli has had the warning," Edwards continued. "Granaglia took it. +The Cardinal is mad with fright--will do anything." + +Lind seemed to rouse himself with an effort. + +"I beg your pardon, friend Edwards. I did not hear. What were you +saying?" + +"I was saying that the Cardinal had had the decree announced to him, and +is mad with fear, and he will do anything. He offers thirty thousand +lire a year; not only that, but he will try to get his Holiness to give +his countenance to the Society. Fancy, as Calabressa says, what the +world would say to an alliance between the Vatican and the SOCIETY OF +THE SEVEN STARS!" + +Lind seemed incapable of paying attention to this new visitor, so +absorbed was he in his own thoughts. He had again to rouse himself +forcibly. + +"Yes," he said, "you were saying, friend Edwards, that the Starving +Cardinal had become aware of the decree. Yes; well, then?" + +"Did you not hear, sir? He thinks there should be an alliance between +the Vatican and the Society." + +"His Eminence is jocular, considering how near he is to the end of his +life," said Lind, absently. + +"Further," Edwards continued, "he has sent back the daughter of old De +Bedros, who, it seems, first claimed the decree against him; and he is +to give her a dowry of ten thousand lire when she marries. But all these +promises and proposals do not seem to have weighed much with the +council." + +Here Edwards stopped. He perceived plainly that Lind--who sat with his +brows drawn down, and a sombre look on his face--was not listening to +him at all. Presently Lind rose, and said, + +"My good Edwards, I have some business of serious importance to attend +to at once. Now you will give me the report of your journey some other +time. To-night--at nine o'clock?" + +"Yes, sir; if that will suit you." + +"Can you come to my house in Curzon Street at nine?" + +"Yes, certainly." + +"Very well. I am your debtor. But stay a moment. Of course, I understand +from you that nothing that has happened interferes with the decree +against our excellent friend the Cardinal?" + +"So it appears." + +"The Council are not to be bought over by idle promises?" + +"Apparently not." + +"Very well. Then you will come to-night at nine; in my little study +there will be no interruption; you can give me all the details of your +holiday. Ha, my friend Edwards," he added more pleasantly, as he opened +the door for his visitor, "would it not be better for you to give up +that Museum altogether, and come over to us? Then you would have many a +pleasant little trip." + +"I suspect the Museum is most likely to give me up," said Edwards, with +a laugh, as he descended the narrow twilight stairs. + +Then Lind returned to his desk, and sat down. A quarter of an hour +afterward, when Reitzei came into the room, he found him still sitting +there, without any papers whatsoever before him. The angry glance that +Lind directed to him as he entered told him that the master did not wish +to be disturbed; so he picked up a book of reference by way of excuse, +and retreated into the farther room, leaving Lind once more alone. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV. + +AN ENCOUNTER. + + +This was an October morning, in the waning of the year; and yet so +bright and clear and fresh was it, even in the middle of London, that +one could have imagined the spring had returned. The world was full of a +soft diffused light, from the pale clouds sailing across the blue to the +sheets of silver widening out on the broad bosom of the Thames; but here +and there the sun caught some shining surface--the lip of a marble +fountain, the glass of a lamp on the Embankment, or the harness of some +merchant-prince's horses prancing into town--and these were sharp +jewel-like gleams amidst the vague general radiance. The air was sweet +and clear; the white steam blown from the engines on Hungerford Bridge +showed that the wind was westerly. Two lovers walked below, in the +Embankment gardens, probably listening but little to the murmur of the +great city around them. Surely the spring had come again, and youth and +love and hope! The solitary occupant of this chamber that overlooked the +gardens and the shining river did not stay to ask why his heart should +be so full of gladness, why this beautiful morning should yield him so +much delight. He was thinking chiefly that on such a morning Natalie +would be abroad soon; she loved the sunlight and the sweet air. + +It was far too fine a morning, indeed, to spend in a museum, even with +all Madame Potecki's treasures spread out before one. So, instead of +going to South Kensington, he went straight up to Curzon Street. Early +as he was, he was not too early, for he was leisurely walking along the +pavement when, ahead of him, he saw Natalie and her little maid come +forth and set out westward. He allowed them to reach the park gates; +then he overtook them. Anneli fell a little way behind. + +Now, whether it was the brightness of the morning had raised her +spirits, or that she had been reasoning herself into a more courageous +frame of mind, it was soon very clear that Natalie was not at all so +anxious and embarrassed as she had shown herself the day before when +they parted. + +"There was no letter from you this morning," she said, with a smile, +though she did not look up into his face. "Then I have offered myself to +you, and am refused?" + +"How could I write?" he said. "I tried once or twice, and then I saw I +must wait until I could tell you face to face all that I think of your +bravery and your goodness. And now that I see you Natalie, it is not a +bit better: I can't tell you; I am so happy to be near you, to be beside +you, and hear your voice, that I don't think I can say anything at all." + +"I am refused, then?" said she, shyly. + +"Refused!" he exclaimed. "There are some things one cannot refuse--like +the sunshine. But do you know what a terrible sacrifice you are making?" + +"It is you, then, who are making no sacrifice at all," she said, +reproachfully. "What do I sacrifice more than every girl must sacrifice +when she marries? England is not my home as it is your home; we have +lived everywhere; I have no childhood's friends to leave, as many a girl +has." + +"Your father--" + +"After a little while my father will scarcely miss me; he is too busy." + +But presently she added, + +"If you had remained in England I should never have been your wife." + +"Why?" he said with some surprise. + +"I should never have married against my father's wishes," she said, +thoughtfully. "No. My promise to you was that I would be your wife, or +the wife of no one. I would have kept that promise. But as long as we +could have seen each other, and been with each other from time to time, +I don't think I could have married against my father's wish. Now it is +quite different. Your going to America has changed it all. Ah, my dear +friend, you don't know what I suffered one or two nights before I could +decide what was right for me to do!" + +"I can guess," he said, in a low voice, in answer to that brief sigh of +hers. + +Then she grew more cheerful in manner. + +"But that is all over; and now, am I accepted? I think you are like +Naomi: it was only when she saw that Ruth was very determined to go with +her that she left off protesting. And I am to consider America as my +future home? Well, at all events, one will be able to breathe freely +there. It is not a country weighed down with standing armies and +conscriptions and fortifications. How could one live in a town like +Coblentz, or Metz, or Brest? The poor wretches marching this way and +marching that--you watch them from your hotel window--the young men and +the middle-aged men--and you know that they would rather be away at +their farms, or in their factories, or saw-pits, or engine-houses, +working for their wives and children--" + +"Natalie," said he, "you are only half a woman: you don't care about +military glory." + +"It is the most mean, the most cruel and contemptible thing under the +sun!" she said, passionately. "What is the quality that makes a great +hero--a great general--nowadays? Courage? Not a bit. It is +callousness!--an absolute indifference to the slaughtering of human +lives! You sit in your tent--you sit on horseback--miles away from the +fighting; and if the poor wretches are being destroyed here or there in +too great quantities, if they are ridden down by the horses and torn to +pieces by the mitrailleuses, 'Oh, clap on another thousand or two: the +place must be taken at all risks.' Yes, indeed; but not much risk to +you! For if you fail--if all the thousands of men have been hurled +against the stone and lead only to be thrown back crushed and +murdered--why, you have fought with great courage--_you_, the great +general, sitting in your saddle miles away; it is _you_ who have shown +extraordinary courage!--but numbers were against you: and if you win, +you have shown still greater courage; and the audacity of the movement +was so and so; and your dogged persistence was so and so; and you get +another star for your breast; and all the world sings your praises. And +who is to court-martial a great hero for reckless waste of human life? +Who is to tell him that he is a cruel-hearted coward? Who is to take him +to the fields he has saturated with blood, and compel him to count the +corpses; or to take him to the homesteads he has ruined throughout the +land, and ask the women and sons and the daughters what they think of +this marvellous courage? Oh no; he is away back in the capital--there is +a triumphal procession; all we want now is another war-tax--for the +peasant must pay with his money as well as with his blood--and another +levy of the young men to be taken and killed!" + +This was always a sore point with Natalie; and he did not seek to check +her enthusiasm with any commonplace and obvious criticisms. When she got +into one of these moods of proud indignation, which was not seldom, he +loved her all the more. There was something in the ring of her voice +that touched him to the heart. Such noble, quick, generous sympathy +seemed to him far too beautiful and rare a thing to be met by argument +and analysis. When he heard that pathetic tremulousness in her voice, he +was ready to believe anything. When he looked at the proud lips and the +moistened eyes, what cause that had won such eloquent advocacy would he +not have espoused? + +"Ah, well, Natalie," said he, "some day the mass of the people of the +earth will be brought to see that all that can be put a stop to, if they +so choose. They have the power: _Zahlen regieren die Welt_; and how can +one be better employed than in spreading abroad knowledge, and showing +the poorer people of the earth how the world might be governed if they +would only ally themselves together? It would be more easy to persuade +them if we had all of us your voice and your enthusiasm." + +"Mine?" she said. "A woman's talking is not likely to be of much use. +But," she added, rather hesitatingly, "at least--she can give her +sympathy--and her love--to those who are doing the real work." + +"And I am going to earn yours, Natalie," said he, cheerfully, "to such a +degree as you have never dreamed of, when you and I together are away in +the new world. And that reminds me now you must not be frightened; but +there is a little difficulty. Of course you thought of nothing, when you +wrote those lines, but of doing a kindness; that was like you; your +heart speaks quickly. Well--" + +He himself seemed somewhat embarrassed. + +"You see, Natalie, there would be no difficulty at all if you and I +could get married within the next few days." + +Her eyes were cast down, and she was silent. + +"You don't think it possible you could get your father to consent?" he +said, but without much hope. + +"Oh no, I think not; I fear not," she said, in a low voice. + +"Then you see, Natalie," he continued--and he spoke quite lightly, as if +it was merely an affair of a moment--"there would be this little +awkwardness: you are not of age; unless you get your father's consent, +you cannot marry until you are twenty-one. It is not a long time--" + +"I did not think of it," she said, very hurriedly, and even +breathlessly. "I only thought it--it seemed hard you should go away +alone--and I considered myself already your wife--and I said, 'What +ought I to do?' And now--now you will tell me what to do. I do not +know--I have no one to ask." + +"Do you think," said he, after a pause, "that you would forget me, if +you were to remain two years in England while I was in America?" + +She regarded him for a moment with those large, true eyes of hers; and +she did not answer in words. + +"There is another way; but--it is asking too much," he said. + +"What is it?" she said, calmly. + +"I was thinking," he said, with some hesitation, "that if I could bribe +Madame Potecki to leave her music-lessons--and take charge of you--and +bring you to America--and you and she might live there until you are +twenty-one--but I see it is impossible. It is too selfish. I should not +have thought of it. What are two years, Natalie?" + +The girl answered nothing; she was thinking deeply. When she next spoke, +it was about Lord Evelyn, and of the probability of his crossing to the +States, and remaining there for a year or two; and she wanted to know +more about the great country beyond the seas, and what was Philadelphia +like. + +Well, it was not to be expected that these two, so busy with their own +affairs, were likely to notice much that was passing around them, as the +forenoon sped rapidly away, and Natalie had to think of getting home +again. But the little German maid servant was not so engrossed. She was +letting her clear, observant blue eyes stray from the pretty young +ladies riding in the Row to the people walking under the trees, and from +them again to the banks of the Serpentine, where the dogs were barking +at the ducks. In doing so she happened to look a little bit behind her; +then suddenly she started, and said to herself, '_Herr Je!_' But the +little maid had her wits about her. She pretended to have seen nothing. +Gradually, however, she lessened the distance between herself and her +young mistress; then, when she was quite up to her, and walking abreast +with her, she said, in a low, quick voice. + +"Fraulein! Fraulein!" + +"What is it, Anneli?" + +George Brand was listening too. He wondered that the girl seemed so +excited, and yet spoke low, and kept her eyes fixed on the ground. + +"Ah, do not look round, Fraulein!" said she, in the same hurried way. +"Do not look round! But it is the lady who gave you the locket. She is +walking by the lake. She is watching you." + +Natalie did not look round. She turned to her companion, and said, +without any agitation whatever, + +"Do you remember, dearest? I showed you the locket, and told you about +my mysterious visitor. Now Anneli says she is walking by the side of the +lake. I may go and speak to her, may I not? Because it was so wicked of +Calabressa to say some one had stolen the locket, and wished to restore +it after many years. I never had any such locket." + +She was talking quite carelessly; it was Brand himself who was most +perturbed. He knew well who that stranger must be, if Anneli's sharp +eyes had not deceived her. + +"No, Natalie," he said, quickly, "you must not go and speak to her; and +do not look round, either. Perhaps she does not wish to be seen: perhaps +she would go away. Leave it to me, my darling; I will find out all about +her for you." + +"But it is very strange," said the girl. "I shall begin to be afraid of +this emissary of Santa Claus if she continues to be so mysterious; and I +do not like mystery: I think, dearest, I must go and speak to her. She +can not mean me any harm. She has brought me flowers again and again on +my birthday, if it is the same. She gave me the little locket I showed +you. Why may not I stop and speak to her?" + +"Not now, my darling," he said, putting his hand on her arm. "Let me +find out about her first." + +"And how are you going to do that? In a few minutes, perhaps, she goes +away; and when will you see her again? It is many months since Anneli +saw her last; and Anneli sees everything and everybody." + +"We will cross the bridge," said he, in a low voice, for he knew not how +near the stranger might be, "and walk on to Park Lane. Anneli must tell +us how far she follows. If she turns aside anywhere I will bid you +good-bye and see where she goes. Do you understand, Natalie?" + +She certainly did not understand why he should speak so seriously about +it. + +"And I am to be marched like a prisoner? I may not turn my head?" + +She began to be amused. He scarcely knew what to say to her. At last he +said, earnestly, + +"Natalie, it is of great importance to you that I should see this +lady--that I should try to see her. Do as I bid you, my dearest." + +"Then you know who she is?" said Natalie, promptly. + +"I have a suspicion, at all events; and--and--something may happen--that +you will be glad of." + +"What, more mysterious presents?" the girl said, lightly; "more messages +from Santa Claus?" + +He could not answer her. The consciousness that this might be indeed +Natalie's mother who was so near to them; the fear of the possible +consequences of any sudden disclosure; the thought that this opportunity +might escape him, and he leaving in a few days for America: all these +things whirled through his brain in rapid and painful succession. But +there was soon to be an end of them. Natalie, still obediently following +his instructions, and yet inclined to make light of the whole thing, and +himself arrived at the gates of the park; Anneli, as formerly, being +somewhat behind. Receiving no intimation from her, they crossed the road +to the corner of Great Stanhope Street. But they had not proceeded far +when Anneli said, + +"Ah, Fraulein, the lady is gone! You may look after her now. See!" + +That was enough for George Brand. He had no difficulty in making out +the dark figure that Anneli indicated; and he was in no great hurry, for +he feared the stranger might discover that she was being followed. But +he breathed more freely when he had bidden good-bye to Natalie, and seen +her set out for home. + +He leisurely walked up Park Lane, keeping an eye from time to time on +the figure in black, but not paying too strict attention, lest she +should turn suddenly and observe him. In this way he followed her up to +Oxford Street; and there, in the more crowded thoroughfare, he lessened +the distance between them considerably. He also watched more closely +now, and with a strange interest. From the graceful carriage, the +beautiful figure, he was almost convinced that that, indeed, was +Natalie's mother; and he began to wonder what he would say to her--how +he would justify his interference. + +The stranger stopped at a door next a shop in the Edgware Road; knocked, +waited, and was admitted. Then the door was shut again. + +It was obviously a private lodging-house. He took a half-crown in his +hand to bribe the maid-servant, and walked boldly up to the door and +knocked. It was not a maid-servant who answered, however; it was a man +who looked something like an English butler, and yet there was a foreign +touch about his dress--probably, Brand thought, the landlord. Brand +pulled out a card-case, and pretended to have some difficulty in getting +a card from it. + +"The lady who came in just now--" he said, still looking at the cards. + +"Madame Berezolyi? Yes, sir." + +His heart jumped. But he calmly took out a pencil, and wrote on one of +the cards, in French, "_One who knows your daughter would like to see +you_." + +"Will you be so kind as to take up that card to Madame Berezolyi? I +think she will see me. I will wait here till you come down." + +The man returned in a couple of minutes. + +"Madame Berezolyi will be pleased to see you, sir; will you step this +way?" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV. + +THE MOTHER. + + +This beautiful, pale, trembling mother: she stood there, dark against +the light of the window; but even in the shadow how singularly like she +was to Natalie, in the tall, slender, elegant figure, the proud set of +the head, the calm, intellectual brows, and the large, tender, dark +eyes, as soft and pathetic as those of a doe--only this woman's face was +worn and sad, and her hair was silver-gray. + +She was greatly agitated, and for a second or two incapable of speech. +But when he began in French to apologize for his intrusion, she eagerly +interrupted him. + +"Ah, no, no!" she said, in the same tongue. "Do not waste words in +apology. You have come to tell me about my child, my Natalie: Heaven +bless you for it; it is a great kindness. To-day I saw you walking with +her--listening to her voice--ah, how I envied you!--and once or twice I +thought of going to her and taking her hand, and saying only one +word--'Natalushka!'" + +"That would have been a great imprudence," said he gravely. "If you wish +to speak to your daughter--" + +"If I wish to speak to her!--if I wish to speak to her!" she exclaimed; +and there were tears in her voice, if there were none in the sad eyes. + +"You forget, madame, that your daughter has been brought up in the +belief that you died when she was a mere infant. Consider the effect of +any sudden disclosure." + +"But has she never suspected? I have passed her; she has seen me. I gave +her a locket: what did she think?" + +"She was puzzled, yes; but how would it occur to the girl that any one +could be so cruel as to conceal from her all those years the fact that +her mother was alive?" + +"Then you yourself, monsieur--" + +"I knew it from Calabressa." + +"Ah, my old friend Calabressa! And he was here, in London, and he saw my +Natalie. Perhaps--" + +She paused for a second. + +"Perhaps it was he who sent the message. I heard--it was only a word or +two--that my daughter had found a lover." + +She regarded him. She had the same calm fearlessness of look that dwelt +in Natalie's eyes. + +"You will pardon me, monsieur. Do I guess right? It is to you that my +child has given her love?" + +"That is my happiness," said he. "I wish I were better worthy of it." + +She still regarded him very earnestly, and in silence. + +"When I heard," she said, at length, in a low voice, "that my Natalie +had given her love to a stranger, my heart sunk. I said, 'More than ever +is she away from me now;' and I wondered what the stranger might be +like, and whether he would be kind to her. Now that I see you, I am not +so sad. There is something in your voice, in your look, that tells me to +have confidence in you: you will be kind to Natalie." + +She seemed to be thinking aloud: and yet he was not embarrassed by this +confession, nor yet by her earnest look; he perceived how all her +thoughts were really concentrated on her daughter. + +"Her father approves?" said this sad-faced, gray-haired woman. + +"Oh no; quite the contrary." + +"But he is kind to her?" she said, quickly, and anxiously. + +"Oh yes," he answered. "No doubt he is kind to her. Who could be +otherwise?" + +She had been so agitated at the beginning of this interview that she had +allowed her visitor to remain standing. She now asked him to be seated, +and took a chair opposite to him. Her nervousness had in a measure +disappeared; though at times she clasped the fingers of both hands +together, as if to force herself to be composed. + +"You will tell me all about it, monsieur; that I may know what to say +when I speak to my child at last. Ah, heavens, if you could understand +how full my heart is: sixteen years of silence! Think what a mother has +to say to her only child after that time! It was cruel--cruel--cruel!" + +A little convulsive sob was the only sign of her emotion, and the +lingers were clasped together. + +"Pardon me, madame," said he, with some hesitation; "but, you see, I do +not know the circumstances--" + +"You do not know why I dared not speak to my own daughter?" she said, +looking up in surprise. "Calabressa did not tell you?" + +"No. There were some hints I did not understand." + +"Nor of the reasons that forced me to comply with such an inhuman +demand? Alas! these reasons exist no longer. I have done my duty to one +whose life was sacred to me; now his death has released me from fear; I +come to my daughter now. Ah, when I fold her to my heart, what shall I +say to her--what but this?--'Natalushka, if your mother has remained +away from you all these years, it was not because she did not love +you.'" + +He drew his chair nearer, and took her hand. + +"I perceive that you have suffered, and deeply. But your daughter will +make amends to you. She loves you now; you are a saint to her; your +portrait is her dearest possession--" + +"My portrait?" she said, looking rather bewildered. "Her father has not +forbidden her that, then?" + +"It was Calabressa who gave it to her quite recently." + +She gently withdrew her hand, and glanced at the table, on which two +books lay, and sighed. + +"The English tongue is so difficult," she said. "And I have so much--so +much--to say! I have written out many things that I wish to tell her; +and have repeated them, and repeated them; but the sound is not +right--the sound is not like what my heart wishes to say to her." + +"Reassure yourself, madame, on that point," said he, cheerfully: "I +should imagine there is scarcely any language in Europe that your +daughter does not know something of. You will not have to speak English +to her at all." + +She looked up with bright eagerness in her eyes. + +"But not Magyar?" + +"I do not know for certain," he said, "for I don't know Magyar myself; +but I am almost convinced she must know it. She has told me so much +about her countrymen that used to come about the house; yes, surely they +would speak Magyar." + +A strange happy light came into the woman's face; she was communing with +herself--perhaps going over mentally some tender phrases, full of the +soft vowel sounds of the Magyar tongue. + +"That," said she, presently, and in a low voice, "would be my crowning +joy. I have thought of what I should say to her in many languages; but +always 'My daughter, I love you,' did not have the right sound. In our +own tongue it goes to the heart. I am no longer afraid: my girl will +understand me." + +"I should think," said he, "you will not have to speak much to assure +her of your love." + +She seemed to become a great deal more cheerful; this matter had +evidently been weighing on her mind. + +"Meanwhile," she said, "you promised to tell me all about Natalie and +yourself. Her father does not approve of your marrying. Well, his +reasons?" + +"If he has any, he is careful to keep them to himself," he said. "But I +can guess at some of them. No doubt he would rather not have Natalie +marry; it would deprive him of an excellent house-keeper. Then +again--and this is the only reason he does give--he seems to consider it +would be inexpedient as regards the work we are all engaged in--" + +"You!" she said, with a sudden start. "Are you in the Society also?" + +"Certainly, madame." + +"What grade?" + +He told her. + +"Then you are helpless if he forbids your marriage." + +"On the contrary, madame, my marriage or non-marriage has nothing +whatever to do with my obedience to the Society." + +"He has control over Natalie--" + +"Until she is twenty-one," he answered promptly. + +"But," she said, regarding him with some apprehension in her eyes, "you +do not say--you do not suggest--that the child is opposed to her +father--that she thinks of marrying you, when she may legally do so, +against his wish?" + +"My dear madame," said he, "it will be difficult for you to understand +how all this affair rests until you get to know something more about +Natalie herself. She is not like other girls. She has courage; she has +opinions of her own: when she thinks that such and such a thing is +right, she is not afraid to do it, whatever it may be. Now, she believes +her father's opposition to be unjust; and--and perhaps there is +something else that has influenced her: well, the fact is, I am ordered +off to America, and--and the girl has a quick and generous nature, and +she at once offered to share what she calls my banishment." + +"To leave her father's house!" said the mother, with increasing alarm. + +Brand looked at her. He could not understand this expression of anxious +concern. If, as he was beginning to assure himself, Lind was the cause +of that long and cruel separation between mother and daughter, why +should this woman be aghast at the notion of Natalie leaving such a +guardian? Or was it merely a superstitious fear of him, similar to that +which seemed to possess Calabressa? + +"In dealing with your daughter, madame," he continued, "one has to be +careful not to take advantage of her forgetfulness of herself. She is +too willing to sacrifice herself for others. Now to-day we were +talking--as she is not free to marry until she is twenty-one--about her +perhaps going over to America under the guardianship of Madame +Potecki--" + +"Madame Potecki." + +"She is a friend of your daughter's--almost a mother to her; and I am +not sure but that Natalie would willingly do that--more especially under +your guardianship, in preference to that of Madame Potecki--" + +"Oh no, no!" she exclaimed, instantly. "She must not dare her father +like that. Oh, it would be terrible! I hope you will not allow her." + +"It is not a question of daring; the girl has courage enough for +anything," he said coolly. "The thing is that it would involve too great +a sacrifice on her part; and I was exceedingly selfish to think of it +for a moment. No; let her remain in her father's house until she is free +to act as her own mistress; then, if she will come to me, I shall take +care that a proper home is provided for her. She must not be a wanderer +and a stranger." + +"But even then, when she is free to act, you will not ask her to disobey +her father? Oh, it will be too terrible!" + +Again he regarded her with amazement. + +"What do you mean, madame? What is terrible? Or is it that you are +afraid of him? Calabressa spoke like that." + +"You do not know of what he is capable," she said, with a sigh. + +"All the more reason," he said, directly, "why she should be removed +from his guardianship. But permit me to say, madame, that I do not quite +share your apprehensions. I have seen nothing of the bogey kind about +your husband. Of course, he is a man of strong will, and he does not +like to be thwarted: without that strength of character he could not +have done what he has done. But he also knows that his daughter is no +longer a child, and when the proper time comes you will find that his +common sense will lead him to withdraw an opposition which would +otherwise be futile. Do I explain myself clearly? My dear madame, have +no anxiety about the future of your daughter. When you see herself, when +you speak to her, you will find that she is one who is not given to +fear." + +For a moment the apprehensive look left her face. She remained silent, a +happier light coming into her eyes. + +"She is not sad and sorrowful, then?" she said, presently. + +"Oh no; she is too brave." + +"What beautiful hair she has!" said this worn-faced woman with the sad +eyes. "Ah, many a time I have said to myself that when I take her to my +heart I will feel the beautiful soft hair; I will stroke it; her head +will lie on my bosom, and I will gather courage from her eyes: when she +laughs my heart will rejoice! I have lived many years in solitude--in +secret, with many apprehensions; perhaps I have grown timid and fearful; +once I was not so. But I have been troubling myself with fears; I have +said, 'Ah, if she looks coldly on me, if she turns away from me, then my +heart will break!'" + +"I do not think you have much to fear," said he, regarding the +beautiful, sad face. + +"I have tried to catch the sound of her voice," she continued, absently, +and her eyes were filled with tears, "but I could not do that. But I +have watched her, and wondered. She does not seem proud and cold." + +"She will not be proud or cold to you," he said, "when she is kindness +and gentleness to all the world." + +"And--and when shall you see her again?" she asked, timidly. + +"Now," he said. "If you will permit me, I will go to her at once. I will +bring her to you." + +"Oh no!" she exclaimed hastily drying her eyes. "Oh no! She must not +find a sad mother, who has been crying. She will be repelled. She will +think, 'I have enough of sadness.' Oh no, you must let me collect +myself: I must be very brave and cheerful when my Natalie comes to me. I +must make her laugh, not cry." + +"Madame," said he, gravely, "I may have but a few days longer in +England: do you think it is wise to put off the opportunity? You see, +she must be prepared; it would be a terrible shock if she were to know +suddenly. And how can one tell what may happen to-morrow or next day? At +the present moment I know she is at home; I could bring her to you +directly." + +"Just now?" she said; and she began to tremble again. She rose and went +to a mirror. + +"She could not recognize herself in me. She would not believe me. And I +should frighten her with my mourning and my sadness." + +"I do not think you need fear, madame." + +She turned to him eagerly. + +"Perhaps you would explain to her? Ah, would you be so kind! Tell her I +have seen much trouble of late. My father has just died, after years of +illness; and we were kept in perpetual terror. You will tell her why I +dared not go to her before: oh no! not that--not that!" + +"You forget, madame, that I myself do not know." + +"It is better she should not know--better she should not know!" she +said, rapidly. "No, let the girl have confidence in her father while she +remains in his house. Perhaps some time she may know; perhaps some one +who is a fairer judge than I will tell her the story and make excuses: +it must be that there is some excuse." + +"She will not want to know; she will only want to come to you." + +"But half an hour, give me half an hour," she said, and she glanced +round the room. "It is so poor a chamber." + +"She will not think of the chamber." + +"And the little girl with her--she will remain down-stairs, will she +not? I wish to be alone, quite alone, with my child." Her breath came +and went quickly, and she clasped her fingers tight. "Oh, monsieur, my +heart will break if my child is cold to me!" + +"That is the last thing you have to fear," said he, and he rose. "Now +calm yourself, madame. Recollect, you must not frighten your daughter. +And it will be more than half an hour before I bring her to you; it will +take more than that for me to break it to her." + +She rose also; but she was obviously so excited that she did not know +well what she was doing. All her thoughts were about the forth-coming +interview. + +"You are sure she understands the Magyar?" she said again. + +"No, I do not know. But why not speak in French to her?" + +"It does not sound the same--it does not sound the same: and a +mother--can only--talk to her child--" + +"You must calm yourself, dear madame. Do you know that your daughter +believes you to have been a miracle of courage and self-reliance? What +Calabressa used to say to her was this: 'Natalushka, when you are in +trouble you will be brave; you will show yourself the daughter of +Natalie Berezolyi.'" + +"Yes, yes," she said, quickly, as she again dried her eyes, and drew +herself up. "I beg you to pardon me. I have thought so much of this +meeting, through all these years, that my hearts beats too quickly now. +But I will have no fear. She will come to me; I am not afraid: she will +not turn away from me. And how am I to thank you for your great +kindness?" she added, as he moved to the door. + +"By being kind to Natalie when I am away in America," said he. "You +will not find it a difficult task." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI. + +THE VELVET GLOVE. + + +Ferdinand Lind sat alone, after Gathorne Edwards had gone, apparently +deep buried in thought. He leaned forward over his desk, his head +resting on his left hand, while in his right hand he held a pencil, with +which he was mechanically printing letters on a sheet of blotting-paper +before him. These letters, again and again repeated, formed but one +phrase: THE VELVET GLOVE. It was as if he were perpetually reminding +himself, during the turnings and twistings of his sombre speculations, +of the necessity of being prudent and courteous and suave. It was as if +he were determined to imprint the caution on his brain--drilling it into +himself--so that in no possible emergency could it be forgotten. But as +his thoughts went farther afield, he began to play with the letters, as +a child might. They began to assume decorations. THE VELVET GLOVE +appeared surrounded with stars; again furnished with duplicate lines; +again breaking out into rays. At length he rose, tore up the sheet of +blotting-paper, and rung a hand-bell twice. + +Reitzei appeared. + +"Where will Beratinsky be this evening?" + +"At the Culturverein: he sups there." + +"You and he must be here at ten. There is business of importance." + +He walked across the room, and took up his hat and stick. Perhaps at +this moment the caution he had been drilling into himself suggested some +further word. He turned to Reitzei, who had advanced to take his place +at the desk. + +"I mean if that is quite convenient to you both," he said, courteously. +"Eleven o'clock, if you please, or twelve?" + +"Ten will be quite convenient," Reitzei said. + +"The business will not take long." + +"Then we can return to the Culturverein: it is an exhibition night: one +would not like to be altogether absent." + +These sombre musings had consumed some time. When Lind went out he found +it had grown dark; the lamps were lit; the stream of life was flowing +westward. But he seemed in no great hurry. He chose unfrequented +streets; he walked slowly; there was less of the customary spring and +jauntiness of his gait. In about half an hour he had reached the door of +Madame Potecki's house. + +He stood for some seconds there without ringing. Then, as some one +approached, he seemed waken out of a trance. He rung sharply, and the +summons was almost immediately answered. + +Madame Potecki was at home, he learned, but she was dining. + +"Never mind," said he, abruptly: "she will see me. Go and ask her." + +A couple of minutes thereafter he was shown into a small parlor, where +Madame Potecki had just risen to receive him; and by this time a +singular change had come over his manner. + +"I beg your pardon--I beg a thousand pardons, my dear Madame Potecki," +said he, in the kindest way, "for having interrupted you. Pray continue. +I shall make sure you forgive me only if you continue. Ah, that is well. +Now I will take a chair also." + +Madame Potecki had again seated herself, certainly; but she was far too +much agitated by this unexpected visit to be able to go on with her +repast. She was alarmed about Natalie. + +"You are surprised, no doubt, at my coming to see you," said he, +cheerfully and carelessly, "so soon after you were kind enough to call +on me. But it is only about a trifle; I assure you, my dear Madame +Potecki, it is only about a trifle, and I must therefore insist on your +not allowing your dinner to get cold." + +"But if it is about Natalie--" + +"My dear madame, Natalie is very well. There is nothing to alarm you. +Now you will go on with your dinner, and I will go on with my talking." + +Thus constrained, madame again addressed herself to the small banquet +spread before her, which consisted of a couple of sausages, some pickled +endive, a piece of Camembert cheese, and a tiny bottle of Erlauer. Mr. +Lind turned his chair to the fire, put his feet on the fender, and lay +back. He was rather smartly dressed this evening, and he was pleasant in +manner. + +"Natalie ought to be grateful to you, madame," said he lightly, "for +your solicitude about her. It is not often one finds that in one who is +not related by blood." + +"I have no one now left in the world to love but herself," said madame; +"and then you see, my dear friend Lind, her position appeals to one: it +is sad that she has no mother." + +"Yes, yes," said Lind, with a trifle of impatience. "Now you were good +enough to come and tell me this afternoon, madame, about that foolish +little romance that Natalie has got into her head. It was kind of you; +it was well-intentioned. And after all, although that wish of hers to go +to America can scarcely be serious, it is but natural that romantic +ideas should get into the head of a younger girl--" + +"Did not I say that to her?" exclaimed Madame Potecki, eagerly; "and +almost in these words too. And did not I say to her, 'Ah, my child, you +must take care; you must take care!'" + +"That also was good advice," said Lind, courteously; "and no doubt +Natalie laid it to her heart. No, I am not afraid of her doing anything +very wild or reckless. She is sensible; she thinks; she has not been +brought up in an atmosphere of sentiment. One may say this or that on +the spur of the moment, when one is excited; but when it comes to +action, one reasons, one sees what one's duty is. Natalie may have said +something to you, madame, about going to America, but not with any +serious intention, believe me." + +"Perhaps not," said Madame Potecki, with considerable hesitation. + +"Very well, then," said Mr. Lind, as he rose, and stood before the +chimney-piece mirror, and arranged the ends of his gracefully tied +neckerchief. "We come to another point. It was very kind of you, my dear +madame, to bring me the news--to tell me something of that sort had been +said; but you know what ill-natured people will remark. You get no +appreciation. They call you tale-bearer!" + +Madame colored slightly. + +"It is ungenerous; it is not a fair requital of kindness; but that is +what is said," he continued. "Now, I should not like any friend of +Natalie's to incur such a charge on her account, do you perceive, +madame? And, in these circumstances, do you not think that it would be +better for both you and me to consider that you did not visit me this +afternoon; that I know nothing of what idle foolishness Natalie has been +talking? Would not that be better? As for me, I am dumb." + +"Oh, very well, my dear friend," said madame, quickly. "I would not for +the world have Natalie or any one think that I was a mischief-maker--oh +no! And did I not promise to you that I should say nothing of my having +called on you to-day? It is already a promise." + +He turned round and regarded her. + +"Precisely so," he said. "You did promise; it was kind of you; and for +myself, you may rely on my discretion. Your calling on me--what you +repeated to me--all that is obliterated: you understand?" + +Madame Potecki understood that very well: but she could not quite make +out why he should have come to her this evening, apparently with no +object beyond that of reminding her of her promise to say nothing of her +visit to Lisle Street. + +He lifted his hat from an adjacent chair. + +"Now I will leave you to finish your dinner in quiet. You forgive me for +interrupting you, do you not? And you will remember, I am sure, not to +mention to any one about your having called on me to-day? As for me, it +is all wiped out: I know nothing. Adieu, and thanks." + +He shook hands with her in a very friendly manner, and then left, saying +he could open the outer door for himself. + +He got home in time for dinner: he and Natalie dined together, and he +was particularly kind to her; he talked in Magyar, which was his custom +when he wished to be friendly and affectionate; he made no reference to +George Brand whatsoever. + +"Natalie," said he, casually, "it was not fair that you were deprived of +a holiday this year. You know the reason--there were too many important +things going forward. But it is not yet too late. You must think about +it--think where you would like to go for two or three weeks." + +She did not answer. It was on that morning that she had placed her +written offer in her lover's hands; so far there had been no reply from +him. + +"And Madame Potecki," her father continued; "she is not very rich; she +has but little change. Why not take her with you instead of Anneli?" + +"I should like to take her away for a time," said the girl, in a low +voice. "She lives a monotonous life; but she has always her pupils." + +"Some arrangement could be made with them, surely," her father said, +lightly; and then he added, "Paris is always the safest place to go to +when one is in doubt. There you are independent of the weather; there +are so many things to see and to do if it rains. Will you think of it, +Natalushka?" + +"Yes, papa," she said, though she felt rather guilty. But she was so +grateful to have her father talk to her in this friendly way again, +after the days of estrangement that had passed, that she could not but +pretend to fall in with his schemes. + +"And I will tell you another thing," said Mr. Lind. "I intend to buy you +some furs, Natalie, for the winter. These we will get in Paris." + +"I am too much of an expense to you already, papa." + +"You forget," said he, with mock gravity, "that you give me your +invaluable services as house-keeper, and that so far you have received +no salary." + +There was a knock at the outer door. + +"Is it nine o'clock already?" he said, in an altered tone. + +"Whom do you expect, papa?" + +"Gathorne Edwards." + +"Then I will send you in coffee to the study." + +But presently Anneli came into the room. + +"Pardon, Fraulein, but the gentleman wishes to see you for one minute." + +"Let him come in here, then." + +Edwards came in, and shook hands with Natalie in an embarrassed manner. +Then he produced a little packet. + +"I have a commission, Miss Lind. It is from Signor Calabressa. He sends +you this necklace, and says I am to tell you that he thinks of you +always." + +The message had been in reality that Calabressa "thought of her and +loved her always." But Edwards was a shy person, and did not like to +pronounce the word "love" to this beautiful girl, who regarded him with +such proud, frank eyes. + +"He has not returned with you, then?" + +"No." + +"But you can send him a message?" + +"I will when I hear of his address." + +"Then you will tell him--will you be so kind?--that the little +Natalushka--that is myself," she said, smiling; "you will tell him that +the little Natalushka thanks him, and is not likely to forget him." + +The interview between the new visitor and Mr. Lind was speedily got +over. Lind excused himself for giving Edwards the trouble of this second +appointment by saying he had been much engrossed with serious business +during the day. There was, indeed, little new to be communicated about +the Kirski and Calabressa escapade, though Edwards repeated the details +as minutely as possible. He accepted a cigar, and left. + +Then Lind got his overcoat and hat and went out of the house. A hansom +took him along to Lisle Street: he arrived there just as ten was +striking. + +There were two men at the door; they were Beratinsky and Reitzei. All +three entered and went up the narrow stair in the dark, for the old +German had gone. There was some fumbling for matches on the landing; +then a light was procured, and the gas lit in the central room. Mr. Lind +sat down at his desk; the other two drew in chairs. The whole house was +intently silent. + +"I am sorry to take you away from your amusements," said he, civilly +enough; "but you will soon be able to return to them. The matter is of +importance. Edwards has returned." + +Both men nodded; Reitzei had, in fact, informed his companion. + +"As I anticipated, Calabressa's absurd proposal has been rejected, if +not even scoffed at. Now, this affair must not be played with any +longer. The Council has charged us, the English section, with a certain +duty; we must set about having it performed at once." + +"There is a year's grace," Beratinsky observed, but Lind interrupted him +curtly. + +"There may be a year's grace or less allowed to the infamous priest; +there is none allowed to us. We must have our agent ready. Why, man, do +you think a thing like that can be done off-hand, without long and +elaborate planning?" + +Beratinsky was silenced. + +"Are we to have the Council think that we are playing with them? And +that was not the only thing in connection with the Calabressa scheme +which you, Reitzei, were the first to advocate. Every additional person +whom you let into the secret is a possible weak point in the carrying +out of the design; do you perceive that? And you had to let this man +Edwards into it." + +"But he is safe." + +Lind laughed. + +"Safe? Yes; because he knows his own life would not be worth a +half-franc piece if he betrayed a Council secret. However, that is over: +no more about it. We must show the Council that we can act and +promptly." + +There was silence for a second or two. + +"I have no need to wait for the further instructions of the Council," +Lind resumed. "I know what they intend. They intend to make it clear to +all Europe that this is not a Camorra act of vengeance. The Starving +Cardinal has thousands of enemies; the people curse and groan at him; if +he were stabbed by an Italian, 'Oh, another of those Camorristi +wretches!' would be the cry. The agent must come from England, and, if +he is taken red-handed, then let him say if he likes that he is +connected with an association which knows how to reach evil-doers who +are beyond the ordinary reach of the law; but let him make it clear that +it is no Camorra affair: you understand?" + +"Yes, yes," said both men. + +"Now you know what the Council have ordained," continued Lind, calmly, +"that no agent shall be appointed to undertake any service involving +immediate peril to life without a ballot among at least four persons. It +was absurd of Calabressa to imagine that they would abrogate their own +decree, merely because that Russian madman was ready for anything. Well, +it is not expedient that this secret should be confided to many. It is +known to four persons in this country. We are three of the four." + +The two men started. + +"Yes," he said boldly, and he regarded each of them in turn. "That is my +proposal: that we ourselves form three of the ballot of four. The fourth +must be an Englishman." + +"Edwards?" said Beratinsky. Reitzei was thinking too much of his own +position to speak. + +"No," said Lind, calmly playing with his pencil, "Edwards is a man of +books, not of action. I have been thinking that the fourth ought to +be--George Brand." + +He watched them both. Reitzei was still preoccupied; but the small black +eyes of Beratinsky twinkled eagerly. + +"Yes, yes, yes! Very good! There we have our four. For myself, I am not +afraid; not I!" + +"And you, Reitzei; are you satisfied?" said Lind merely as a matter of +form. + +The younger man started. + +"Oh yes, the Council must be obeyed," said he, absently. + +"Gentlemen," said Lind, rising, "the business is concluded. Now you may +return to your Culturverein." + +But when the others had risen, he said, in a laughing way, "There is +only one thing I will add: you may think about it at your leisure. The +chances are three to one, and we all run the same risk; but I confess I +should not be sorry to see the Englishman chosen; for, you perceive, +that would make the matter clear enough. They would not accuse an +Englishman of complicity with the Camorra--would they, Reitzei? If the +lot fell to the Englishman, I should not be disappointed--would you, +Beratinsky?" + +Beratinsky, who was about to leave, turned sharply and the coal-black +eyes were fixed intently on Lind's face. + +"I?" he said. "Not I! We will talk again about it, Brother Lind." + +Reitzei opened the door, Lind screwed out the gas, and then the three +men descended the wooden staircase, their footsteps sounding through the +silent house. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII. + +SANTA CLAUS. + + +To save time Brand jumped into a hansom and drove down to Curzon Street. +He was too much preoccupied to remember that Natalie had wished him not +to come to the house. Anneli admitted him, and showed him up-stairs into +the drawing-room. In a couple of seconds or so Natalie herself appeared. + +"Well," said she lightly, "you have come to tell me about Santa Claus? +You have discovered the mysterious messenger?" + +She shut the door and went forward to him. + +"What is the matter?" she said, quickly: there was something in his look +that alarmed her. + +He caught both her hands in his, and held them tight. + +"Nothing to frighten you, at all events," said he: "no, Natalie I have +good news for you. Only--only--you must be brave." + +It was he who was afraid; he did not know how to begin. + +"That locket there," said he, regarding the little silver trinket. "Have +you ever thought about it?--why do you wear it?" + +"Why do I wear it?" she said, simply. "Because one day that Calabressa +was talking to me it occurred to me that the locket might have belonged +to my mother, and that some one had wished to give it to me. He did not +say it was impossible. It was his talk of Natalie and Natalushka that +put it in my head; perhaps it was a stupid fancy." + +"Natalie, the locket did belong to your mother." + +"Ah, you know, then?" she said, quickly, but with nothing beyond a +bright and eager interest. "You have seen that lady? Well, what does she +say?--was she angry that you followed her? Did you thank her for me for +all those presents of flowers?" + +"Natalie," said he almost in despair, "have you never thought about +it--about the locket? Have you never thought of what might be possible?" + +"I do not understand you," she said, with a bewildered air. "What is it? +why do you not speak?" + +"Because I am afraid. See, I hold your hands tight because I am afraid. +And yet it is good news: your heart will be filled with joy; your life +will be quite different from to-day ever after. Natalie, cannot you +imagine for yourself--something beautiful happening to you--something +you may have dreamed of--" + +She became a little pale, but she maintained her calmness. + +"Dearest," said she, "why are you afraid to tell me. You hold my hands: +do they tremble?" + +"But, Natalie, think!" he said. "Think of the locket; it was given you +by one who loved you--who has loved you all these years--and been kept +away from you--and now she is waiting for you." + +He studied her face intently: there was nothing there but a vague +bewilderment. He grew more and more to fear the effect of the shock. + +"Yes, yes. Can you not think, now, if it were possible that one whom you +have always thought to be dead--whom you have loved all through your +life--if it were she herself--" + +She withdrew her hands from his, and caught the back of a chair. She was +ghastly pale; for a second she did not speak. + +"You will kill me--if it is not true," she said, in a low voice, and +still staring at him with frightened, bewildered eyes. + +"Natalie, it is true," said he, stepping forward to catch her by the +arm, for he thought she was going to fall. + +She sunk into a chair, and covered her face with her hands--not to cry, +but to think. She had to reverse the belief of a lifetime in a second. + +But suddenly she started up, her face still white, her lips firm. + +"Take me to her; I must see her; I will go at once." + +"You shall not," he said, promptly; but he himself was beginning to +breathe more freely. "I will not allow you to see her until you are +perfectly calm." + +He put his hand on her arm gently. + +"Natalie," said he, "you must calm yourself--for her sake. She has been +suffering; she is weak; any wild scene would do her harm. You must calm +yourself, my darling; you must be the braver of the two; you must show +yourself very strong--for her sake." + +"I am quite calm," she said, with pale lips. She put her left hand over +her heart. "It is only my heart that beats so." + +"Well, in a little while--" + +"Now--now!" she pleaded, almost wildly. "I must see her. When I try to +think of it, it is like to drive me mad; I cannot think at all. Let us +go!" + +"You must think," he said firmly; "you must think of what you are going +to say; and your dress, too. Natalie, you must take that piece of +scarlet ribbon away; one who is nearly related to you has just died." + +She tore it off instantly. + +"And you know Magyar, don't you, Natalie?" + +"Oh yes, yes." + +"Because your mother has been learning English in order to be able to +speak to you." + +Again she placed her hand over her heart, and there was a look of pain +on her face. + +"My dearest, let us go! I can bear no more: my heart will break! See, am +I not calm enough? Do I tremble?" + +"No, you are very courageous," he said, looking at her doubtfully. + +"Let us go!--let us go!" + +Her entreaties overcame his scruples. The things she had thrown aside on +coming in from her morning walk still lay there; she hastily put them +on; and she herself led the way down-stairs. He put her into the hansom, +and followed; the man drove off. She held her lover's hand tight, as a +sign of her gratitude. + +"Mind, I depend on you, Natalie," he said. + +"Oh, do not fear," she said, rather wildly; "why should one fear? It +seems to me all a strange sort of dream; and I shall waken out of it +by-and-by, and go back to the house. Why should I be surprised to see +her, when she is my constant companion? And do you think I shall not +know what to say?--I have talked to her all my life." + +But when they had reached the house, and were admitted, this +half-hysterical courage had fled. + +"One moment, dearest; give me one moment," she said, at the foot of the +stairs, as if her breath failed her, and she put her hand on his arm. + +"Now, Natalie," he whispered, "you must think of your mother as an +invalid--not to be excited, you understand; there is to be no scene." + +"Yes, yes," she said, but she scarcely heard him. + +"Now go," he said, "and I will wait here." + +"No, I wish you to come," she said. + +"You ought to be alone with her." + +"I wish you to come," she repeated; and she took his hand. + +They went up-stairs; the door was wide open; a figure stood in the +middle of the room. Natalie entered first; she was very white, that was +all. It was the other woman who was trembling--trembling with anxious +fears, and forgetful of every one of the English phrases she had +learned. + +The girl at the door hesitated but for a moment. Breathless, wondering, +she beheld this vision--worn as the face was, she recognized in it the +features she had learned to love; and there were the dark and tender +eyes she had so often held commune with when she was alone. It was only +because she was so startled that she thus hesitated; the next instant +she was in her mother's arms held tight there, her head against her +bosom. + +Then the mother began, in her despair, + +"My--my daughter--you--do--know me?" + +But the girl, not looking up, murmured some few words in a language +Brand did not understand; and at the sound of them the mother uttered a +wild cry of joy, and drew her daughter closer to her, and laid her +streaming, worn, sad face on the beautiful hair. They spoke together in +that tongue; the sounds were soft and tender to the ear; perhaps it was +the yearning of love that made them so. + +Then Natalie remembered her promise. She gently released herself; she +led her mother to a sofa, and made her sit down; she threw herself on +her knees beside her, and kissed her hand; then she buried her head in +her mother's lap. She sobbed once or twice; she was determined not to +give way to tears. And the mother stroked the soft hair of the girl, +which she could hardly see, for her eyes were full; and from time to +time she spoke to her in those gentle, trembling tones, bending over her +and speaking close to her ear. The girl was silent; perhaps afraid to +awake from a dream. + +"Natalie," said George Brand. + +She sprung to her feet. + +"Oh, I beg your pardon--I beg your pardon!" she said, hurriedly. "I had +forgotten--" + +"No, you have not forgotten," he said, with a smile. "You have +remembered; you have behaved well. Now that I have seen you through it, +I am going; you ought to be by yourselves." + +"Oh no!" she said, in a bewildered way. "Without you I am useless: I +cannot think. I should go on talking and talking to my mother all day, +all night--because--because my heart is full. But--but one must do +something. Why is she here? She will come home with me--now!" + +"Natalie," said he, gravely, "you must not even mention such a thing to +her: it would pain her. Can you not see that there are sufficient +reasons why she should not go, when she has not been under your father's +roof for sixteen years?" + +"And why has my father never told me?" the girl said, breathlessly. + +"I cannot say." + +She thought for a moment; but she was too excited to follow out any +train of thinking. + +"Ah," she said, "what matter? I have found a great treasure. And you, +you shall not go: it will be we three together now. Come!" + +She took his hand; she turned to her mother; her face flushed with +shyness. She said something, her eyes turned to the ground, in that soft +musical language he did not understand. + +"I know, my child," the mother answered in French, and she laughed +lightly despite her wet eyes. "Do you think one cannot see?--and I have +been following you like a spy!" + +"Ah, then," said the girl, in the same tongue, "do you see what lies +they tell? They say when the mother comes near her child, the heart of +the child knows and recognizes her. It is not true! it is not true!--or +perhaps one has a colder heart than the others. You have been near to +me, mother; I have watched, as you went away crying, and all I said was, +'Ah, the poor lady, I am sorry for her!' I had no more pity for you than +Anneli had. Anneli used to say, 'Perhaps, fraulein, she has lost some +one who resembles you.'" + +"I had lost you--I had lost you," the mother said, drawing the girl +toward her again. "But now I have found you again, Natalushka. I thank +God for his goodness to me. I said to myself, 'If my child turns away +from me, I will die!' and I thought that if you had any portrait of me, +it would be taken when I was young, and you would not care for an old +woman grown haggard and plain--" + +"Oh, do you think it is for smooth portraits that I care?" the girl +said, impetuously. She drew out from some concealed pocket a small case, +and opened it. "Do you think it is for smooth faces one cares? There--I +will never look at it again!" + +She threw it on to the table with a proud gesture. + +"But you had it next your heart, Natalushka," said her mother, smiling. + +"But I have you in my heart, mother: what do I want with a portrait?" +said the girl. + +She drew her daughter down to her again, and put her arm once more round +her neck. + +"I once had hair like yours, Natalushka, but not so beautiful as yours, +I think. And you wore the locket, too? Did not that make you guess? Had +you no suspicion?" + +"How could I--how could I?" she asked. "Even when I showed it to +Calabressa--" + +Here she stopped suddenly. + +"Did he know, mother?" + +"Oh yes." + +"Then why did he not tell me? Oh, it was cruel!" she said, indignantly. + +"He told me, Natalie," George Brand said. + +"You knew?" the girl said, turning to him with wide eyes. + +"Yes; and Calabressa, when he told me, implored me never to tell you. +Well, perhaps he thought it would give you needless pain. But I was +thinking, within the last few days, that I ought to tell you before I +left for America." + +"Do you hear, mother?" the girl said, in a low voice. "He is going away +to America--and alone. I wished to go; he refuses." + +"Now I am going away much more contented, Natalie, since you will have a +constant companion with you. I presume, madame, you will remain in +England?" + +The elder woman looked up with rather a frightened air. + +"Alas, monsieur, I do not know! When at last I found myself free--when I +knew I could come and speak to my child--that was all I thought of." + +"But you wish to remain in England: is it not so?" + +"What have I in the world now but this beautiful child--whose heart is +not cold, though her mother comes so late to claim her?" + +"Then be satisfied, madame. It is simple. No one can interfere with you. +But I will provide you, if you will allow me, with better lodgings than +these. I have a few days' idleness still before me." + +"That is his way, mother," Natalie said, in a still lower voice. "It is +always about others he is thinking--how to do one a kindness." + +"I presume," he said, in quite a matter-of-fact way, "that you do not +wish your being in London to become known?" + +She looked up timidly, but in truth she could hardly take her attention +away from this newly-found daughter of hers for a single second. She +still continued stroking the soft hair and rounded cheek as she said, + +"If that is possible." + +"It would not be long possible in an open thoroughfare like this," he +said; "But I think I could find you a small old-fashioned house down +about Brompton, with a garden and a high wall. I have passed such places +occasionally. There Natalie could come to see you, and walk with you. +There is another thing," he said, in a matter-of-fact way, taking out +his watch. "It is now nearly two o'clock. Now, dear madame, Natalie is +in the habit of having luncheon at one. You would not like to see your +child starve before your eyes?" + +The elder woman rose instantly; then she colored somewhat. + +"No doubt you did not expect visitors," George Brand said, quickly. +"Well, what do you say to this? Let us get into a four-wheeled cab, and +drive down to my chambers. I have an indefatigable fellow, who could get +something for us in the desert of Saharra." + +"What do you say, child?" + +Natalie had risen too: she was regarding her mother with earnest eyes, +and not thinking much about luncheon. + +"I will do whatever you wish," she was saying: but suddenly she cried, +"Oh, I am indeed so happy!" and flung her arms round her mother's neck, +and burst into a flood of tears for the first time. She had struggled +long; but she had broken down at last. + +"Natalie," said George Brand, pretending to be very anxious about the +time, "could you get your mother's things for her? I think we shall be +down there by a quarter past two." + +She turned to him with her streaming eyes. + +"Yes, we will go with you. Do not let us be separated." + +"Then look sharp," said he, severely. + +Natalie took her mother into the adjoining room. Brand, standing at the +window, succeeded in catching the eye of a cab-man, whom he signaled to +come to the door below. Presently the two women appeared. + +"Now," he said, "Miss Natalie, there is to be no more crying." + +"Oh no!" she said, smiling quite radiantly. "And I am so anxious to see +the rooms--I have heard so much of them from Lord Evelyn." + +She said nothing further then, for she was passing before him on her way +out. In doing so, she managed, unseen, to pick up the miniature she had +thrown on the table. She had made believe to despise that portrait very +much; but all the same, as they went down the dark staircase, she +conveyed it back to the secret little pocket she had made for it--next +her heart. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII. + +A SUMMONS. + + +"Mother," said the girl, in the soft-sounding Magyar, as these two were +together going down-stairs, "give me your hand; let me hold it tight, to +make sure. All the way here I kept terrifying myself by thinking it must +be a dream; that I should wake, and find the world empty without you, +just as before. But now--now with your hand in mine, I am sure." + +"Natalushka, you can hear me speak also. Ghosts do not speak like this, +do they?" + +Brand had preceded them to open the door. As Natalie was passing him she +paused for a second, and regarded him with the beautiful, tender, dark +eyes. + +"I am not likely to forget what I owe to you," she said in English. + +He followed them into the cab. + +"What you owe to me?" he said, lightly. "You owe me nothing at all. But +if you wish to do me a good turn, you may pretend to be pleased with +whatever old Waters can get together for you. The poor old fellow will +be in a dreadful state. To entertain two ladies, and not a moment of +warning! However, we will show you the river, and the boats and things, +and give him a few minutes' grace." + +Indeed, it was entirely as a sort of harmless frolic that he chose to +regard this present excursion of theirs. He was afraid of the effect of +excessive emotion on this worn woman, and he was anxious that she should +see her daughter cheerful and happy. He would not have them think of any +future; above all, he would have nothing said about himself or America; +it was all an affair of the moment--the joyous re-union of mother and +daughter--a pleasant morning with London all busy and astir--the only +serious thing in the whole world the possible anxieties and struggles of +the venerable major-domo in Buckingham Street. + +He had not much difficulty in entertaining these two guests of his on +their way down. They professed to be greatly interested in the history +and antiquities of the old-fashioned little thoroughfare over the river; +arrived there, they regarded with much apparent curiosity the houses +pointed out to them as having been the abode of illustrious personages: +they examined the old water gate; and, in ascending the oak staircase, +they heard of painted ceilings and what not with a deep and respectful +attention. But always these two had each other's hand clasped tight, and +occasionally Natalie murmured a little snatch of Magyar. It was only to +make sure, she explained. + +Before they reached the topmost story they heard a considerable noise +overhead. It was a one-sided altercation; broken and piteous on the one +hand, voluble and angry on the other. + +"It sounds as if Waters were having a row with the man in possession," +Brand said. + +They drew nearer. + +"Why, Natalie, it is your friend Kirski!" + +Brand was following his two guests up-stairs; and so could not interfere +between the two combatants before they arrived. But the moment that +Natalie appeared on the landing there was a dead silence. Kirski shrunk +back with a slight exclamation, and stood looking from one to the other +with a frightened air. She advanced to him and asked him what was the +matter, in his native tongue. He shrunk farther back. The man could not +or would not speak. He murmured something to himself, and stared at her +as if she were a spectre. + +"He has got a letter for you, sir," Waters said; "I have seen the +address; and he will neither leave it nor take it. And as for what he +has been trying to say, Lord A'mighty knows what it is--I don't." + +"Very well--all right," Brand said. "You leave him to us. Cut away and +get some luncheon--whatever you can find--at once." + +But Natalie had gone nearer to the Russian, and was talking to him in +that fearless, gentle way of hers. By-and-by he spoke, in an uncertain, +almost gasping voice. Then he showed her a letter; and, in obedience to +something she said, went timidly forward and placed it in Brand's hand. + + "_A Monsieur, + M. George Brand, Esq., + Londres._" + +This was the superscription; and Brand recognized the handwriting easily +enough. + +"The letter is from Calabressa," he said obviously. "Tell him not to be +alarmed. We shall not eat him, however hungry we may be." + +Kirski had recovered himself somewhat, and was speaking eagerly to her, +in a timid, anxious, imploring fashion. She listened in silence; but she +was clearly somewhat embarrassed, and when she turned to her lover there +was some flush of color on her face. + +"He talks some wild things," she said, "and some foolish things; but he +means no harm. I am sorry for the poor man. He is afraid you are angry +with him; he says he promised never to try to see me; that he would not +have come if he had known. I have told him you are not angry; that it is +not his fault; that you will show that you are not angry." + +But first of all Brand ushered his guests into the long, low-roofed +chamber, and drew the portieres across the middle, so that Waters might +have an apartment for his luncheon preparations. Then he opened the +letter. Kirski remained at the door, with his cap in his hand. + + * * * * * + +"My much-esteemed friend,"--Calabressa wrote, in his ornate, +ungrammatical, and phonetic French--"the poor devil who is the bearer of +this letter is known to you, and yet not altogether known to you. You +know something of his conversion from a wild beast into a man--from the +tiger into a devotee; but you do not, my friend, perhaps entirely know +how his life has become absorbed in one worship, one aspiration, one +desire. The means of the conversion, the instrument, you know, have I +not myself before described it to you? The harassed and bleeding heart, +crushed with scorn and filled with despair--how can a man live with that +in his bosom? He wishes to die. The world has been too cruel to him. But +all at once an angel appears; into the ruins of the wasted life a seed +of kindness is dropped, and then behold the beautiful flower of love +springing up--love that becomes a worship, a religion! Yes, I have said +so much before to you; now I say more; now I entreat you not to check +this beautiful worship--it is sacred. This man goes round the churches; +he stands before the pictures of the saints; he wanders on unsatisfied: +he says there is no saint like the beautiful one in England, who healed +him with her soft words when he was sick to death. But now, my dear +Monsieur Brand, I hear you say to yourself, 'What is my friend +Calabressa after now? Has he taken to the writings of pious sermons? Is +he about to shave his head and put a rope round his waist? My faith, +that is not like that fellow Calabressa!' You are right, my friend. I +describe the creation of the devotee; it is a piece of poetry, as one +might say. But your devotee must have his amulet; is it not so? This is +the meaning and prayer of my letter to you. The bearer of it was willing +to do us a great service; perhaps--if one must confess it--he believed +it was on behalf of the beautiful Natalushka and her father that he was +to undertake the duty that now devolves on some other. One must practice +a little _finesse_ sometimes; what harm is there? Very well. Do you know +what he seeks by way of reward--what he considers the most valuable +thing in the world? It is a portrait of his saint, you understand? That +is the amulet the devotee would have. And I do not further wish to write +to her; no, because she would say, 'What, that is a little matter to do +for my friend Calabressa.' No; I write to you--I write to one who has +knowledge of affairs--and I say to myself, 'If he considers it prudent, +then he will ask the beautiful child to give her portrait to this one +who will worship it.' I have declared to him that I will make the +request; I make it. Do not consider it a trifling matter; it is not to +him; it is the crown of his existence. And if he says, 'Do you see, this +is what I am ready to do for her--I will give my life if she or her +friends wish it;' then I say--I, Calabressa--that a portrait at one +shilling, two shillings, ten shillings, is not so very much in return. +Now, my dear friend, you will consider the prudence of granting his +request and mine. I believe in his faithfulness. If you say to him, 'The +beautiful lady who was kind to you wishes you to do this or do that; or +wishes you never to part with this portrait; or wishes you to keep +silence on this or on that,' you may depend on him. I say so. Adieu! Say +to the little one that there is some one who does not forget her. +Perhaps you will never hear from Calabressa again: remember him not as a +madcap, but as one who wishes you well. To-morrow I start for +Cyprus--then farther--with a light heart. Adieu! + + "Calabressa." + + * * * * * + +He handed the letter to Natalie's mother. The elder woman read the +letter carefully. She laughed quietly; but there were tears in her eyes. + +"It is like my old friend Calabressa," she said. "Natalushka, they want +you to give your portrait to this poor creature who adores you. Why not? +Calabressa says he will do whatever you tell him. Tell him, then, not to +part with it; not to show it to any one, and not to say to any one he +has seen either you or me here. Is not that simple? Tell him to come +here to-morrow or next day; you can send the photograph to Mr. Brand." + +The girl went to the door, and said a few words to Kirski. He said +nothing in reply, but sunk on his knees, as he had done in Curzon +Street, and took her hand and kissed it; then he rose, and bowed +respectfully to the others, and left. + +Presently Waters came in and announced that luncheon was on the table; +the portieres were drawn aside; they passed into the farther end of the +apartment, and sat down. The banquet was not a sumptuous one, and there +were no flowers on the table; but it was everything that any human being +could have done in fifteen minutes; and these were bachelors' rooms. +Natalie took care to make a pretty speech in the hearing of Mr. Waters. + +"Yes, but you eat nothing," the host said. "Do you think your mother +will have anything if she sees you indifferent?" + +Presently the mother, who seemed to be much amused with something or +other, said in French, + +"Ah, my friend, I did not think my child would be so deceitful. I did +not think she would deceive you." + +The girl stared with wide eyes. + +"She pretended to tell you what this poor man said to her," said the +mother, with a quiet smile. "She forgot that some one else than herself +might know Russian." + +Natalie flushed red. + +"Mother!" she remonstrated. "I said he had spoken a lot of foolish +things." + +"After all," said the mother, "he said no more than what Calabressa says +in the letter. You have been kind to him; he regards you as an angel; he +will give you his life; you, or any one whom you love. The poor man! Did +you see how he trembled?" + +Natalie turned to George Brand. + +"He said something more than that," said she. "He said he had undertaken +some duty, some service, that was expected to have cost him his life. He +did not know what it was: do you?" + +"I do not," said he, answering frankly the honest look of her eyes. "I +can scarcely believe any one was foolish enough to think of intrusting +any serious duty to a man like that. But still Calabressa hints as much; +and I know he left England with Calabressa." + +"Natalushka," the mother said, cautiously, and yet with an anxious +scrutiny, "I have often wondered--whether you knew much--much about the +Society." + +"Oh no, mother! I am allowed to translate, and sometimes I hear that +help is to be given here or there; but I am in no secrets at all. That +is my misfortune." + +The mother seemed much relieved. + +"It is not a misfortune, child. You are happier as you are, I think. +Then," she added, with a quick glance, "you have never heard of +one--Bartolotti?" + +"No," she answered; but directly afterwards she exclaimed, "Oh yes, yes! +Bartolotti, that is the name Calabressa gave me. He said if ever I was +in very serious trouble, I was to go to Naples; and that was the +password. But I thought to myself, 'If I am in trouble, why should I not +go to my own father?'" + +The mother rose and went to the girl, and put her arm round her +daughter's neck, and stooped down. + +"Natalushka," said she, earnestly, "you are wiser than Calabressa. If +you are in trouble, do not seek any help that way. Go to your father." + +"And to you, mother," said she, drawing down the worn, beautiful face +and kissing it. "Why not to you also? Why not to you both?" + +The mother smiled, and patted the girl's head, and then returned to the +other side of the table. Waters brought in some fruit, fresh from Covent +Garden. + +He also brought in a letter, which he put beside his master's plate. +Brand did not even look at it; he pushed it aside, to give him more +room. But in pushing it aside he turned it somewhat and Natalie's eye +happening to fall on the address, she perceived at once that it was in +the handwriting of her father. + +"Dearest," said she, in a low voice, and rather breathlessly, "the +letter is from papa." + +"From your father?" said he, without any great concern. Then he turned +to Natalie's mother. "Will you excuse me? My friends are determined to +remind me of their existence to-day." + +But this letter was much shorter than Calabressa's, though it was +friendly enough. + +"My Dear Mr. Brand," it ran,--"I am glad to hear that you acted with so +much promptitude that your preparations for departure are nearly +complete. You are soldier-like. I have less scruples, therefore, in +asking you to be so kind as to give me up to-morrow evening from +half-past nine onward, for the consideration of a very serious order +that has been transmitted to us from the Council. You will perceive that +this claims precedence over any of our local arrangements; and as it may +even involve the abandonment of your voyage to America, it will be +advisable to give it immediate consideration. I trust the hour of +half-past nine will not interfere with any engagement. + + "Your colleague and friend, Ferdinand Lind." + +This was all that an ordinary reader would have seen in the letter; but +Brand observed also, down at the left-hand corner, a small mark in green +color. That tiny arrow, with the two dots--the whole almost +invisible--changed the letter from an invitation into a command. It +signified "On business of the Council." + +He laid down the letter, and said lightly to Natalie, + +"Now I have some news for you. I may not have to go to America after +all." + +"You are not going to America?" she said, in a bewildered way. "Oh, if +it were possible--if it were possible!" she murmured, "I would say I was +too happy. God is too good to me--to have them both given back to me in +one day--both of them in one day--" + +"Natalie," said he, gently, "it is only a possibility, you know." + +"But it is possible!" she said; and there was a quick, strange, happy +light in her face. "It _is_ possible, is it not?" + +Then she glanced at her mother; and her face, that had been somewhat +pale, was pale no longer; the blood mounted to her forehead; her eyes +were downcast. + +"It would please you, would it not?" she said, somewhat formally and in +a low and timid voice. The mother, unobserved, smiled. + +"Oh yes," he said, cheerfully. "But even if I go to America, expect +your mother and you to be arriving at Sandy Hook; and what then? In a +couple of years--it is not a long time--I should have a small steamer +there to meet you, and we could sail up the bay together." + +Luncheon over, they went to the window, and greatly admired the view of +the gardens below and the wide river beyond; and they went round the +room examining the water-colors, and bits of embroidery, and knickknacks +brought from many lands, and they were much interested in one or two +portraits. Altogether they were charmed with the place, though the elder +lady said, in her pretty, careful French, that it was clear no woman's +hand was about, otherwise there would have been white curtains at the +windows besides those heavy straight folds of red. Brand said he +preferred to have plenty of light in the room; and, in fact, at this +moment the sunlight was painting squares of beautiful color on the faded +old Turkey-carpet. All this time Natalie had shown much reserve. + +When the mother and daughter were in the cab together going to Edgware +Road--George Brand was off by himself to Brompton--the mother said, + +"Natalushka, why was your manner so changed to Mr. Brand, after you +heard he might not be going to America?" + +The girl hesitated for a moment, and her eyes were lowered. + +"You see, mother," she said, with some embarrassment, "when one is in +great trouble and difficulty--and when you wish to show sympathy--then, +perhaps, you speak too plainly. You do not think of choosing very +prudent words; your heart speaks for you; and one may say things that a +girl should not be too ready to confess. That is when there is great +trouble, and you are grieved for some one. But--but--when the trouble +goes away--when it is all likely to come right--one remembers--" + +The explanation was rather stammering and confused. + +"But at least, mother," she added, with her eyes still downcast, "at +least I can be frank with you. There is no harm in my telling you that I +love you." + +The mother pressed the hand that she held in hers. + +"And if you tell me often enough, Natalushka, perhaps I shall begin to +believe you." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX. + +A NEW HOME. + + +George Brand set out house-hunting with two exceptional circumstances in +his favor: he knew precisely what he wanted, and he was prepared to pay +for it. Moreover, he undertook the task willingly and cheerfully. It was +something to do. It would fill in a portion of that period of suspense. +It would prevent his harassing himself with speculations as to his own +future--speculations which were obviously useless until he should learn +what was required of him by the Council. + +But none the less was he doomed to the house-hunter's inevitable +disappointment. He found, in the course of his devious wanderings +through all sorts of out-of-the way thoroughfares within a certain +radius from Brompton Church, that the houses which came nearest to his +ideal cottage in a walled garden were either too far away from Hyde +Park, or they were not to be let, or they were to be let unfurnished. +So, like a prudent person, he moderated his desires, and began to cast +about for any furnished house of fairly cheerful aspect, with a garden +behind. But here again he found that the large furnished houses were out +of the question, because they were unnecessarily expensive, and that the +smaller ones were mostly to be found in slummy streets; while in both +cases there was a difficulty about servants. The end of it was that he +took the first floor of an old-fashioned house in Hans Place, being +induced to do so partly because the landlady was a bright, +pleasant-looking little Frenchwoman, and partly because the rooms were +furnished and decorated in a fashion not common to lodging-houses. + +Then came the question of terms, references, and what not; and on all of +these points Mr. Brand showed himself remarkably complaisant. But when +all this was done he sat down, and said, + +"Now I wish you to understand me clearly, madame. This lady I have told +you about has come through much trouble; you are to be kind to her, and +I will see you do not lose by it. Her daughter will come to see her +frequently, perhaps every day; I suppose the young lady's maid can +remain down-stairs somewhere." + +"Oh yes, sir." + +"Very well. Now if you will be so good as to get me pen and ink I will +give you a check for fifty-two pounds--that is, a pound a week for a +year. You see, there are a number of little kindnesses you could show +this poor lady that would be all the more appreciated if they were not +put down in a book and charged for: you understand? You could find out, +perhaps, from time to time some little delicacy she is fond of. Then +flowers: there is a good florist's shop in Sloane Street is there not?" + +"Oh yes, sir." + +She brought the ink, and he drew out the check. + +"Then when the young lady comes to see her mother you will be very +attentive and kind to her too. You must not wait for them to ask for +this or that; you must come up to the door and say 'Will not the young +lady have a cup of chocolate?' or whatever you can suggest--fruit, +biscuits, wine, or what not. And as these little extras will cost you +something, I cannot allow you to be out of pocket; so here is a fund for +you to draw from; and, of course, not a word to either of the ladies. I +think you understand?" + +"Perfectly, sir," said madame. + +"Then, if I hear that you have been very kind and obliging, I suppose +one might be allowed from time to time to send you a little +present--something to beautify your house with? You have pretty rooms; +you have shown great taste in decorating them." + +"Oh, not I, sir," said the little Frenchwoman; "I took the house as it +stands from Mr. ----." + +"The architect," said Brand. "Ah, that explains. But I am surprised he +should have used gas." + +"That _was_ my doing," said the landlady, with some pride. "It is a +great improvement. It is so convenient, is it not?" + +"My dear madame," said Brand, seriously, "it cannot be convenient to +have one's lungs poisoned with the smoke of London gas. You must on no +account allow this lady who is coming to your house to sit through the +long evenings with gas blazing over her head all the time; why, she +would have continual headache. No, no, you must get a couple of +lamps--one for the piano there, and a smaller reading-one fox this +little table by the fire. Then these sconces, you will get candles for +them, of course; red ones look pretty--not pink, but red." + +The French landlady seemed rather dismayed. She had been all smiles and +courtesy so far; but now the bargain did not promise to be so profitable +if this was the way she was to begin. But Brand pulled out his watch. + +"If you will allow me," said he, "I will go and get a few things to +make the room look homely. You see this lady must be made as comfortable +as possible, for she will see no one but her daughter, and all the +evenings she will be alone. Now will you be so good as to have the fire +lit? And these little things I am about to get for you, of course they +will become your property; only you need not say who presented them to +you, you perceive?" + +The little woman's face grew happy again, and she assured him fervently +and repeatedly that he might trust her to do her best for this lady +about whom he seemed so anxious. + +It was almost dusk when he went out; most of the shops in Sloane Street +had their windows lit. He set about this further task of his with an +eager delight. For although it was ostensibly for Natalie's mother that +he was buying this and buying that, there was an underlying +consciousness that Natalie herself would be pleased--that many and many +a time she would occupy that pretty little sitting-room, that perhaps +she might guess who it was who had been so thoughtful about her mother +and herself. Fortunately Sloane Street is an excellent shopping +thoroughfare; he got everything he wanted--even wax candles of the +proper tint of red. He first of all went to the florist's and got fruit +and flowers enough to decorate a hall. Then from shop to shop he +wandered, buying books here, a couple of lamps there, a low, +softly-cushioned easy-chair, a fire-screen, pastils, tins of sweet +biscuits, a dozen or two of Hungarian wine, a tea-making apparatus, a +box of various games, some white rose scent, and he was very near adding +a sewing-machine, but thought he would wait to see whether she +understood the use of that instrument. All these and many other articles +were purchased on the explicit condition that they were to be delivered +in Hans Place within the following half-hour. + +Then he went back to the lodging-house, carrying in his hand the red +candles. These he placed himself in the sconces, and lit them; the +effect was good, now that the fire was blazing cheerfully. One by one +the things arrived; and gradually the lodging-house sitting-room grew +more and more like a home. He put the flowers here and there about the +place, the little Frenchwoman having brought him such, small jars and +vases as were in her possession--these fortunately including a couple of +bits of modern Venetian glass. The reading-lamp was lit and put on the +small table; the newly imported easy-chair was drawn to the fire; some +books and the evening papers scattered about. He lit one of the +pastils, put the fire-screen in its place, and had a last look round. + +Then he got into a hansom and drove up to the house in the Edgware Road. +He was immediately admitted and shown up-stairs. Natalie's mother rose +to receive him; he fancied she had been crying. + +"I am come to take you to your new rooms," he said, cheerfully. "They +are better than these." + +"Ah, that is kind of you," she said, also speaking in French; "but in +truth what do I care where I am? My heart is full of joy. It is enough +for me to sit quiet and say to myself, 'My child loves me. She has not +turned away from me. She is more beautiful even than I had believed; and +she has a good heart. I have no longer any fear.'" + +"Yes, madame," said he, "but you must not sit quiet and think like that, +or you will become ill, and then how are you to go out walking with +Natalie? You have many things to do, and many things to decide on. For +example, you will have to explain to her how it is you may not go to her +father's house. At this moment what other thing than that do you imagine +she is thinking about? She will ask you." + +"I would rather not tell her," said the mother, absently; "it is better +she should not know." + +He hesitated for a second or two. + +"Then it is impossible that a reconciliation between your husband and +yourself--" + +"Oh no, no!" she said, somewhat sadly; "that is impossible, now." + +"And you are anxious he should not know that you and your daughter see +each other." + +"I am not so anxious," she said. "I have faith in Natalushka: I can +perceive her courage. But perhaps it would be better." + +"Very well. Then come to these other rooms I have got for you; they are +in a more secluded neighborhood." + +"Very well, monsieur. I have but few things with me. I will be ready +soon." + +In less than half an hour after that the French landlady was receiving +her new guest; and so eager was she to show to the English gentleman her +gratitude for his substantial presents, that her officious kindness was +almost burdensome. + +"I thank you," said the new-comer, with a smile, as the landlady brought +her a cushion for her back the moment she sat down in the easy chair, +"but I am not yet an invalid." + +Then would madame have some tea? Or perhaps madame had not dined? There +was little in the house; but something could be prepared at once; from +to-morrow morning madame's instructions would be fulfilled to the +letter. To get rid of her, Brand informed her that madame had not dined, +and would be glad to have anything that happened to be in the house. +Then she left, and he was about to leave also. + +"No," said the beautiful mother to him, with a smile on the pale face. +"Sit down; I have something to say to you." + +He sat down, his hat still in his hand. + +"I have not thanked you," she said. "I see who has done all this: do you +think a stranger would know to have the white-rose scent for me that +Natalie uses? She was right: you are kind--you think of others." + +"It is nothing--it is nothing," he said, hastily, and with all an +Englishman's embarrassment. + +"My dear friend," said his companion, with a grave kindness in her tone, +and a look of affectionate interest in her eyes, "I am going to prove my +gratitude to you. I am going to prevent--what do you call it?--a lover's +quarrel." + +He started. + +"Yesterday," she continued, still regarding him in that kindly way, +"before we left your rooms, Natalushka was very reserved toward you; was +it not so? I perceived it; and you?" + +"I--I thought she was tired," he stammered. + +"To-morrow you are to fetch her here; and what if you find her still +more reserved--even cold toward you? You will be pained, perhaps +alarmed. Ah, my dear friend, life is made very bitter sometimes by +mistakes; so it is that I must tell you the reason. The child loves you; +be sure of that. Yes; but she thinks that she has been too frank in +saying so--in time of trouble and anxiety; and now--now that you are +perhaps not going to America--now that perhaps all the trouble is +over--now she is beginning to think she ought to be a little more +discreet, as other young ladies are. The child means no harm, but you +and she must not quarrel." + +He took her hand to bid her good-bye. + +"Natalie and I are not likely to quarrel," said he, cheerfully. "Now I +am going away. If I stayed, you would do nothing but talk about her, +whereas it is necessary that you should have some dinner, then read one +of these books for an hour or so, then go to bed and have a long, sound +night's rest. You must be looking your brightest when she comes to see +you to-morrow." + +And indeed, as it turned out subsequently, this warning; of the +mother's was not wholly unnecessary. Next day at eleven o'clock, as had +previously been arranged, Brand met Natalie at the corner of Great +Stanhope Street to escort her to the house to which her mother had +removed. He had not even got into the park with her when he perceived +that her manner was distinctly reserved. Anneli was with her, and she +kept talking from time to time to the little maid, who was thus obliged, +greatly against her will, to walk close to her mistress. At last Brand +said, + +"Natalie, have I offended you?" + +"Oh no!" she said, in a hurried, low voice. + +"Natalie," said he, very gently, "I once heard of a wicked creature who +was determined to play the hypocrite, and might have done a great deal +of mischief, only she had a most amiable mother, who stepped in and gave +somebody else a warning. Did you ever hear of such a wicked person?" + +The blood mounted to her face. By this time Anneli had taken leave to +fall behind. + +"Then," said the girl, with some hesitation, and yet with firmness, "you +will not misunderstand me. If all the circumstances are to be altered, +then--then you must forget what I have said to you in moments of +trouble. I have a right to ask it. You must forget the past altogether." + +"But it is impossible!" + +"It is necessary." + +For some minutes they walked on in silence. Then he felt a timid touch +on his arm; her hand had been laid there, deprecatingly, for a moment. + +"Are you angry with me?" + +"No, I am not," said he, frankly, "for the very reason that what you ask +is impossible, unnecessary, absurd. You might as well ask me to forget +that I am alive. In any case, isn't it rather too soon? Are you so sure +that all the trouble is past? Wait till the storm is well over, and we +are going into port, then we will put on our Sunday manners to go +ashore." + +"I am afraid you are angry with me," she said again, timidly. + +"You could not make me, if you tried," he said, simply; "but I am proud +of you, Natalie--proud of the courage and clearness and frankness of +your character, and I don't like to see you fall away from that, and +begin to consider what a school-mistress would think of you." + +"It is not what any one may think of me that I consider; it is what I +think of myself," she answered, in the same low voice. + +They reached Hans Place. The mother was at the door of the room to +welcome them. She took her daughter by the hand and led her in. + +"Look round, Natalushka," she said. "Can you guess who has arranged all +this for me--for me and for you?" + +The girl almost instantly turned--her eyes cast down--and took her +lover's hand, and kissed it in silence. That was all. + +Then said he, lightly, as he shoved the low easy-chair nearer the fire, + +"Come, madame, and sit down here; and you, Natalushka, here is a stool +for you, that you will be able to lean your head on your mother's knee. +There; it is a very pretty group: do you know why I make you into a +picture? Well, you see, these are troubled times; and one has one's work +to do; and who can tell what may happen? But don't you see that, +whatever may happen, I can carry away with me this picture; and always, +wherever I may be, I can say to myself that Natalie and her mother are +together in the quiet little room, and that they are happy. Now I must +bid you good-bye; I have a great deal of business to-day with my +solicitor. And the landlady, madame: how does she serve you?" + +"She overwhelms me with kindness." + +"That is excellent," said he, as he shook hands with them and, against +both their protests, took his leave. + +He carried away that picture in his mind. He had left these two +together, and they were happy. What mattered it to him what became of +himself? + +It was on the evening of that day that he had to obey the summons of the +Council. + + + + +CHAPTER XL. + +A CONCLAVE. + + +Punctual to the moment George Brand arrived in Lisle Street. He was +shown into an inner room, where he found Lind seated at a desk, and +Reitzei and Beratinsky standing by the fireplace. On an adjacent table +where four cups of black coffee, four small glasses, a bottle of brandy, +and a box of cigarettes. + +Lind rose to receive him, and was very courteous indeed--apologizing +for having had to break in on his preparations for leaving, and offering +him coffee, cigarettes, and what not. When the new-comer had declined +these, Lind resumed his place and begged the others to be seated. + +"We will proceed to business at once, gentlemen," said he, speaking in +quite an ordinary and matter-of-fact way, "although, I will confess to +you, it is not business entirely to my liking. Perhaps I should not say +so. This paper, you see, contains my authorization from the Council to +summon you and to explain the service they demand: perhaps I should +merely obey, and say nothing. But we are friends; we can speak in +confidence." + +Here Reitzei, who was even more pallid than usual, and whose fingers +seemed somewhat shaky, filled one of the small glasses of brandy, and +drank it off. + +"I do not say that I hesitate," continued Lind--"that I am reluctant, +because the service that is required from us--from one of us four--is +dangerous--is exceedingly dangerous. No," he said, with a brief smile, +"as far as I am myself concerned, I have carried my life in my hands too +often to think much about that. And you, gentlemen, considering the +obligations you have accepted, I take it that the question of possible +harm to yourselves is not likely to interfere with your obedience to the +commands of the Council." + +"As for me," said Reitzei, eagerly and nervously, "I tell you this, I +should like to have something exciting now--I do not care what. I am +tired of this work in London; it is slow, regular, like the ticking of a +clock. I am for something to stir the blood a little. I say that I am +ready for anything." + +"As for me," said Beratinsky, curtly, "no one has ever yet called me a +coward." + +Brand said nothing; but he perceived that this was something unusually +serious, and almost unconsciously he closed his right hand that he might +feel the clasp of Natalie's ring. There was no need to appeal to his +oaths of allegiance. + +Lind proceeded, in a graver fashion, + +"Yes, I confess that personally I am for avoiding violence, for +proceeding according to law. But then the Council would say, perhaps, +'Are there not injuries for which the law gives no redress? Are there +not those who are beyond the power of the law? And we, who have given +our lives to the redressing of wrongs, to the protection of the poor, to +the establishment of the right, are we to stand by and see the moral +sense of the community outraged by those in high places, and say no +word, and lift no hand?'" + +He took up a book that was lying on the table, and opened it at a marked +page. + +"Yes," he said, "there are occasions on which a man may justly take the +law into his own hands; may break the law, and go beyond it, and punish +those whom the law has failed to punish; and the moral sense of the +world will say, 'Well done!' Did you ever happen to read, Mr. Brand, the +letter written by Madame von Maderspach?" + +Brand started at the mention of the name: it recalled the first evening +on which he had seen Natalie. What strange things had happened since +then! He answered that he did not know of Madame von Maderspach's +letter. + +"By chance I came across it to-day," said Lind, looking at the book. +"Listen: 'I was torn from the arms of my husband, from the circle of my +children, from the hallowed sanctuary of my home, charged with no +offence, allowed no hearing, arraigned before no judge. I, a woman, +wife, and mother, was in my own native town, before the people +accustomed to treat me with respect, dragged into a square of soldiers, +and there scourged with rods. Look, I can write this without dropping +dead! But my husband killed himself. Robbed of all other weapons, he +shot himself with a pocket-pistol. The people rose, and would have +killed those who instigated these horrors, but their lives were saved by +the interference of the military.' Very well. Von Maderspach took his +own way; he shot himself. But if, instead of doing that, he had taken +the law into his own hands, and killed the author of such an outrage, do +you think there is a human being in the world who would have blamed +him?" + +He appealed directly to Brand. Brand answered calmly, but with his face +grown rather white, "I think if such a thing were done to--to my wife, I +would have a shot at somebody." + +Perhaps Lind thought that it was the recital of the wrongs of Madame von +Maderspach that had made this man's face grow white, and given him that +look about the mouth; but at all events he continued, "Exactly so. I was +only seeking to show you that there are occasions on which a man might +justly take the law into his own hands. Well, then, some would argue--I +don't say so myself, but some would say--that what a man may do justly +an association may do justly. What would the quick-spreading +civilization of America have done but for the Lynch tribunals? The +respectable people said to themselves, 'it is question of life or +death. We have to attack those scoundrels at once, or society will be +destroyed. We cannot wait for the law: it is powerless.' And so when the +president had given his decision, out they went and caught the +scoundrels, and strung them up to the nearest tree. You do not call them +murderers. John Lynch ought to have a statue in every Western State in +America." + +"Certainly, certainly!" exclaimed Reitzei, reaching over and filling out +another glass of brandy with an unsteady hand. He was usually an +exceedingly temperate person. "We are all agreed. Justice must be done, +whether the law allows or not; I say the quicker the better." + +Lind paid no heed to him, but proceeded quietly, "Now I will come more +directly to what is required of us by the Council; I have been trying to +guess at their view of the question; perhaps I am altogether wrong; but +no matter. And I will ask you to imagine yourselves not here in this +free country of England, where the law is strong--and not only that, but +you have a public opinion that is stronger still--and where it is not +possible that a great Churchman should be a man living in open iniquity, +and an oppressor and a scoundrel--I will ask you to imagine yourselves +living in Italy, let one say in the Papal Territory itself, where the +reign of Christ should be, and where the poor should be cared for, if +there is Christianity still on the earth. And you are poor, let us say; +hardly knowing how to scrape together a handful of food sometimes; and +your children ragged and hungry; and you forced from time to time to go +to the Monte di Pieta to pawn your small belongings, or else you will +die, or you will see your children die before your eyes." + +"Ah, yes, yes!" exclaimed Reitzei. "That is the worst of it--to see +one's children die! That is worse than one's own hunger." + +"And you," continued Lind, quietly, but still with a little more +distinctness of emphasis, "you, you poor devils, you see a great +dignitary of the Church, a great prince among priests, living in +shameless luxury, in violation of every law, human and divine, with the +children of his mistresses set up in palaces, himself living on the fat +of the land. What law does he not break, this libertine, this usurer? +What makes the corn dear, so that you cannot get it for your starving +children?--what but this plunderer, this robber, seizing the funds that +extremity has dragged from the poor in order to buy up the grain of the +States? A pretty speculation! No wonder that you murmur and complain; +that you curse him under your breath, that you call him _il cardinale +affamatore_. And no wonder, if you happen to belong to a great +association that has promised to see justice done, no wonder you come to +that association and say, 'Masters, why cannot justice be done now? It +is too long to wait for the Millennium. Remove this oppressor from the +face of the earth: down with the Starving Cardinal!'" + +"Yes, yes, yes!" cried Reitzei, excitedly. Beratinsky sat silent and +sullen. Brand, with some strange foreboding of what was coming, still +sat with his hand tight closed on Natalie's ring. + +"More," continued Lind--and now, if he was acting, it was a rare piece +of acting, for wrath and indignation gathered on his brow, and increased +the emphasis of his voice--"it is not only your purses, it is not only +your poor starved homesteadings that are attacked, it is the honor of +your women. Whose sister or daughter is safe? Mr. Brand, one of your +English poets has made the poor cry to the rich, + + "'Our sons are your slaves by day, + Our daughters your slaves by night.' + +But what if some day a poor man--I will tell you his name--his name is +De Bedros; he is not a peasant, but a helpless, poor old man--what if +this man comes to the great association that I have mentioned and says, +wringing his hands, 'My Brothers and Companions, you have sworn to +protect the weak and avenge the injured: what is your oath worth if you +do not help me now? My daughter, my only daughter, has been taken from +me, she has been stolen from my side, shrieking with fear, and I thrown +bleeding into the ditch. By whom? By one who is beyond the law; who +laughs at the law; who is the law! But you--you will be the avengers. +Too long has this monster outraged the name of Christ and insulted the +forbearance of his fellow creatures: my Brothers, this is what I demand +from your hands--I demand from the SOCIETY OF THE SEVEN STARS--I demand +from you, the Council--I demand, my Brothers and Companions, a decree of +death against the monster Zaccatelli!'" + +"Yes, yes, yes, the decree!" shouted Reitzei, all trembling. "Who could +refuse it? Or I myself--" + +"Gentlemen," said Lind, calmly, "the decree has been granted. Here is my +authority; read it." + +He held out the paper first of all to Brand, who took it in both his +hands, and forced himself to go over it. But he could not read it very +carefully; his heart was beating quickly; he was thinking of a great +many things all at once--of Lord Evelyn, of Natalie, of his oaths to the +Society, even of his Berkshire home and the beech-woods. He handed on +the paper to Reitzei, who was far too much excited to read it at all. +Beratinsky merely glanced at it carelessly, and put it back on the +table. + +"Gentlemen," Lind continued, returning to his unemotional manner, +"personally, I consider it just that this man, whom the law cannot or +does not choose to reach, should be punished for his long career of +cruelty, oppression, and crime, and punished with death! but, as I +confessed to you before, I could have wished that that punishment had +not been delivered by our hands. We have made great progress in England; +and we have been preaching nothing but peace and good-will, and the use +of lawful means of amelioration. If this deed is traced to our Society, +as it almost certainly will be, it will do us a vast amount of injury +here; for the English people will not be able to understand that such a +state of affairs as I have described can exist, or that this is the only +remedy. As I said to you before, it is with great reluctance that I +summoned you here to-night--" + +"Why so, Brother Lind?" Reitzei broke in, and again he reached over for +the bottle. "We are not cowards, then?" + +Beratinsky took the bottle from him and put it back on the table. + +Reitzei did not resent this interference; he only tried to roll up a +cigarette, and did not succeed very well with his trembling fingers. + +"You will have seen," said Lind, continuing as if there had been no +interruption, "why the Council have demanded this duty of the English +section. The lesson would be thrown away altogether--a valuable life +belonging to the Society would be lost--if it were supposed that this +was an act of private revenge. No; the death of Cardinal Zaccatelli will +be a warning that Europe will take to heart. At least," he added, +thoughtfully, "I hope it will prove to be so, and I hope it will be +unnecessary to repeat the warning." + +"You are exceedingly tender-hearted, Brother Lind," said Reitzei. "Do +you pity this man, then? Do you think he should flourish his crimes in +the face of the world for another twenty, thirty years?" + +"It is unnecessary to say what I think," observed Lind, in the same +quiet fashion. "It is enough for us that we know our duty. The Council +have commanded; we obey." + +"Yes; but let us come to the point, Brother Lind," said Beratinsky, in +a somewhat surly fashion. "I do not much care what happens to me; yet +one wishes to know." + +"Gentlemen," said Lind, composedly, "you know that among the ordinances +of the Society is one to the effect that no member shall be sent on any +duty involving peril to his life without a ballot among at least four +persons. As this particular service is one demanding great secrecy and +circumspection, I have considered it right to limit the ballot to +four--to ourselves, in fact." + +There was not a word said. + +"That the duty involves peril to life is obvious; it will be a miracle +if he who undertakes this affair should escape. As for myself, you will +perceive by the paper you have read that I am commissioned by the +Council to form the ballot, but not instructed to include myself. I +could avoid doing so if I chose, but when I ask my friends to run a +risk, I am willing to take the same risk. For the rest, I have been in +as dangerous enterprises before." + +He leaned over and pulled toward him a sheet of paper. Then he took a +pair of scissors and cut the sheet into four pieces; these he proceeded +to fold up until they were about the size of a shilling, and identically +alike. All the time he was talking. + +"Yes, it will be a dangerous business," he said, slowly, "and one +requiring great forethought and caution. Then I do not say it is +altogether impossible one might escape; though then the warning, the +lesson of this act of punishment might not be so effective: they might +mistake it for a Camorra affair, though the Cardinal himself already +knows otherwise." + +He opened a bottle of red ink that stood by. + +"The simplest means are sufficient," said he. "This is how we used to +settle affairs in '48." + +He opened one of the pieces of paper, and put a cross in red on it, +which he dried on the blotting-paper. Then he folded it up again, threw +the four pieces into a pasteboard box, put down the lid, and shook the +box lightly. + +"Whoever draws the red cross," he said, almost indifferently, "carries +out the command of the Council. Have you anything to say, gentlemen--to +suggest?" + +"Yes," said Reitzei, boldly. + +Lind regarded him. + +"What is the use of the ballot?" said the pallid-faced young man. "What +if one volunteers? I should myself like to settle the business of the +scoundrelly Cardinal." + +Lind shook his head. + +"Impossible. Calabressa thought of a volunteer; he was mad! There must +be a ballot. Come; shall we proceed?" + +He opened the box and put it before Beratinsky. Beratinsky took out one +of the papers, opened it, glanced at it, crumpled it up, and threw it +into the fire. + +"It isn't I, at all events," he said. + +It was Reitzei next. When he glanced at the paper he had drawn, he +crushed it together with an oath, and dashed it on the floor. + +"Of course, of course," he exclaimed, "just when I was eager for a bit +of active service. So it is you, Brother Lind, or our friend Brand who +is to settle the business of the Starving Cardinal." + +Calmly, almost as a matter of course, Lind handed the box to George +Brand; and he, being a proud man, and in the presence of foreigners, was +resolved to show no sign of emotion whatever. When he took out the paper +and opened it, and saw his fate there in the red cross, he laid it on +the table before him without a word. Then he shut his hand on Natalie's +ring. + +"Well," said Lind, rather sadly, as he took out the remaining paper +without looking at it, and threw aside the box, "I almost regret it, as +between you and me. I have less of life to look forward to." + +"I would like to ask one question," said Brand, rising: he was perfectly +firm. + +"Yes?" + +"The orders of the Council must be obeyed. I only wish to know +whether--when--when this thing comes to be done--I must declare my own +name?" + +"Not at all--not at all!" Lind said, quickly. "You may use any name you +like." + +"I am glad of that," he said. Then, with the same proud, impassive +firmness, he made an appointment for the next day, got his hat and coat, +bade his companions good-night, and went down-stairs into the cold night +air. He could not realize as yet all that had happened, but his first +quick, instinctive thought had been, + +"Ah, not that--not the name that my mother bore!" + + + + +CHAPTER XLI. + +IN THE DEEPS. + + +The sudden shock of the cold night air was a relief to his burning +brain; and so also as he passed into the crowded streets, was the low +continuous thunder all around him. The theatres were coming out; cabs, +omnibuses, carriages added to the muffled roar; the pavements were +thronged with people talking, laughing, jostling, calling out one to the +other. He was glad to lose himself in this seething multitude; he was +glad to be hidden by the darkness; he would try to think. + +But his thoughts were too rapid and terrible to be very clear. He only +vaguely knew--it was a consciousness that seemed to possess both heart +and brain like a consuming fire--that the beautiful dreams he had been +dreaming of a future beyond the wide Atlantic, with Natalie living and +working by his side, her proud spirit cheering him on, and refusing to +be daunted--these dreams had been suddenly snatched away from him; and +in their stead, right before him, stood this pitiless, inexorable fate. +He could not quite tell how it had all occurred, but there at least was +the horrible certainty, staring him right in the face. He could not +avoid it; he could not shut his eyes to it, or draw back from it; there +was no escape. Then some wild desire to have the thing done at once +possessed him. At once--at once--and then the grave would cover over his +remorse and despair. Natalie would forget; she had her mother now to +console her. Evelyn would say, "Poor devil, he was not the first who got +into mischief by meddling in schemes without knowing how far he might +have to go." Then amidst all this confused din of the London streets, +what was the phrase that kept ringing in his ears?--"_And when she bids +die he shall surely die!_" But he no longer heard the pathetic vibration +of Natalie Lind's voice; the words seemed to him solemn, and distant, +and hopeless, like a knell. But only if it were over--that was again his +wild desire. In the grave was forgetfulness and peace. + +Presently a curious fancy seized him. At the corner of Windmill Street a +ragged youth was bawling out the name of a French journal. Brand bought +a copy of the journal, passed on, and walked into an adjacent cafe, and +took a seat at one of the small tables. A waiter came to him, and he +mechanically ordered coffee. He began to search this newspaper for the +array of paragraphs usually headed _Tribunaux_. + +At last, in the corner of the newspaper, he found that heading, though +under it there was nothing of any importance or interest. But it was the +heading itself that had a strange fascination for him. He kept his eyes +fixed on it. Then he began to see detached phrases and sentences--or, +perhaps, it was only in his brain that he saw them: "The Assassination +of Count Zaccatelli! The accused, an Englishman, who refuses to declare +his name, admits that he had no personal enmity--commanded to execute +this horrible crime--a punishment decreed by a society which he will not +name--confesses his guilt--is anxious to be sentenced at once, and to +die as soon as the law permits.... This morning the assassin of Cardinal +Zaccatelli, who has declared his name to be Edward Bernard, was +executed." + +He hurriedly folded up the paper, just as if he were afraid of some one +overlooking and reading these words, and glanced around. No one was +regarding him. The cafe was nearly full, and there was plenty of +laughing and talking amidst the glare of the gas. He slunk out of the +place, leaving the coffee untasted. But when he had got outside he +straightened himself up, and his face assumed a firmer expression. He +walked quickly along to Clarges Street. The Evelyns' house was dark from +top to bottom; apparently the family had retired for the night. "Perhaps +he is at the Century," Brand said to himself, as he started off again. +But just as he got to the corner of the street a hansom drove up, and +the driver taking the corner too quickly, sent the wheel on to the curb. + +"Why don't you look where you're going to?" a voice called out from the +inside of the cab. + +"Is that you, Evelyn?" Brand cried. + +"Yes, it is," was the reply; and the hansom was stopped, and Lord Evelyn +descended. "I am happy to say that I can still answer for myself. I +thought we were in for a smash." + +"Can you spare me five minutes?" + +"Five hours if you like." + +The man was paid; the two friends walked along the pavement together. + +"I am glad to have found you after all, Evelyn," Brand said. "The fact +is, my nerves have had a bad shake." + +"I never knew you had any. I always fancied you could drive a +fire-brigade engine full gallop along the Strand on a wet night, with +the theatres coming out." + +"A few minutes' talk with you will help me to pull myself together +again. Need we go into the house?" + +"We sha'n't wake anybody." + +They noiselessly went into the house, and passed along the hall until +they reached a small room behind the dining-room. The gas was lit, +burning low. There were biscuits, seltzer-water, and spirits on the +table. + +Lord Evelyn was in the act of turning the gas higher, when he happened +to catch sight of his friend. He uttered a quick exclamation. Brand, who +sat down in a chair, was crying, with his hands over his face, like a +woman. + +"Great heavens, what is it, Brand?" + +That confession of weakness did not last long. Brand rose to his feet +impatiently, and took a turn or two up and down the small room. + +"What is it? Well, I have received my sentence to-night, Evelyn. But it +isn't that--it is the thought of those I shall leave behind--Natalie, +and those boys of my sister's--if people were to find out after all that +they were related to me!" + +He was looking at the things that presented themselves to his own mind; +he forgot that Evelyn could not understand; he almost forgot that he was +speaking aloud. But by-and-by he got himself better under control. He +sat down again. He forced himself to speak calmly: the only sign of +emotion was that his face was rather pale, and his eyes looked tired and +harassed. + +"Yes, I told you my nervous system had got a shock, Evelyn; but I think +I have got over it. It won't do for me in my position to abandon one's +self to sentiment."' + +"I wish you would tell me what you mean." + +Brand regarded him. + +"I cannot tell you the whole thing, but this will be enough. The Council +have decreed the death of a certain person, and I am appointed his +executioner." + +"You are raving mad!" + +"Perhaps it would be better if I were," he said, with a sigh. "However, +such is the fact. The ballot was taken to-night; the lot fell to me. I +have no one to blame except myself." + +Lord Evelyn was too horrified to speak. The calm manner of his companion +ought to have carried conviction with it; and yet--and yet--how could +such a thing be possible? + +"Yes, I blame myself," Brand said, "for not having made certain +reservations when pledging myself to the Society. But how was one to +think of such things? When Lind used to denounce the outrages of the +Nihilists, and talk with indignation of the useless crimes of the +Camorra, how could one have thought it possible that assassination +should be demanded of you as a duty?" + +"But Lind," Lord Evelyn exclaimed--"surely Lind does not approve of such +a thing?" + +"No, he does not," Brand answered. "He says it will prove a +misfortune--" + +"Then why does he not protest?" + +"Protest against a decree of the Council!" the other exclaimed. "You +don't know as much as I do, Evelyn, about that Council. No, I have sworn +obedience, and I will obey." + +He had recovered his firmness; he seemed resigned--even resolved. It was +his friend who was excited. + +"I tell you all the oaths in the world cannot compel a man to commit +murder," Evelyn said, hotly. + +"Oh, they don't call it murder," Brand replied, without any bitterness +whatever; "they call it a punishment, a warning to the evil-doers of +Europe. And no doubt this man is a great scoundrel, and cannot be +reached by the law; and then, besides, one of the members of the +Society, who is poor and old, and who has suffered grievous wrong from +this man, has appealed to the Council to avenge him. No; I can see their +positions. I have no doubt they believe they are acting justly." + +"But you yourself do not think so." + +"My dear fellow, it is not for the private soldier to ask whether his +sovereign has gone to war justly or unjustly. It is his business to obey +commands--to kill, if need be--according to his oath." + +"Why, you are taking the thing as a matter of course," Lord Evelyn +cried, indignantly. "I cannot believe if possible yet! And--and if it +were possible--consider how I should upbraid myself: it was I who led +you into this affair, Brand." + +"Oh no," said the other, absently. + +He was staring into the smouldering fire; and for a second or two he sat +in silence. Then he said, slowly and thoughtfully, + +"I am afraid I have led a very selfish life. Natalie would not say so; +she is generous. But it is true. Well, this will make some atonement. +She will know that I kept my word to her. She gave me that ring, +Evelyn." + +He held out his hand for a moment + +"It was a pledge that I should never draw back from my allegiance to the +Society. Well, neither she nor I then fancied this thing could happen; +but now I am not going to turn coward. You saw me show the white +feather, Evelyn, for a minute or two: I don't think it was about myself; +it was about her--and--and one or two others. You see our talking +together has sent off all that nervous excitement; now we can speak +about business--" + +"I will not--I will not!" Evelyn said, still greatly moved. "I will go +to Lind himself. I will tell him that no duty of this kind was ever +contemplated by any one joining here. It may be all very well for Naples +or Sicily; it won't do for the people on this side the Channel: it will +ruin his work: he must appeal--I will drive him to it!" + +"My dear fellow," Brand said, quietly, "I told you Lind has accepted the +execution of this affair with reluctance. He knows it will do our +work--well, my share in it will be soon over--no good. But in this +business there in no appeal. You are only a companion; you don't know +what stringent vows you have to undertake when you get into the other +grades. Moreover, I must tell you this thing to his credit. He is not +bound to take the risk of the ballot himself, but he did to-night. It is +all over and settled, Evelyn. What is one man's life, more or less? +People go to throw away hundreds of thousands of lives 'with a light +heart.' And even if this affair should give a slight shock to some of +our friends here, the effect will not be permanent. The organization is +too big, too strong, too eager, to be really injured by such a trifle. I +want to talk about business matters now." + +"I won't hear you--I will not allow this," Lord Evelyn protested, +trembling with excitement. + +"You must hear me; the time is short," Brand said, with decision. "When +this thing has to be done I don't know; I shall probably hear to-morrow; +but I must at once take steps to prevent shame falling on the few +relatives I have. I shall pretend to set out on some hunting-expedition +or other--Africa is a good big place for one to lose one's self in--and +if I do not return, what then? I shall leave you my executor, Evelyn; +or, rather, it will be safer to do the whole thing by deed of gift. I +shall give my eldest sister's son the Buckinghamshire place; then I must +leave the other one something. Five hundred pounds at four per cent, +would pay that poor devil Kirski's rent for him, and help him on a bit. +Then I am going to make you a present, Evelyn; so you see you shall +benefit too. Then as for Natalie--or rather, her mother--" + +"Her mother!" Evelyn stared at him. + +"Natalie's mother is in London: you will learn her story from herself," +Brand continued, briefly. "In the mean time, do not tell Lind until she +permits you. I have taken rooms for her in Hans Place, and Natalie will +no doubt go to see her each day; but I am afraid the poor lady is not +very well off, for the family has always been in political troubles. +Well, you see, Evelyn, I could leave you a certain sum, the interest of +which you could manage to convey to her in some roundabout and delicate +way that would not hurt her pride. You could do this, of course." + +"But you are talking as if your death was certain!" Lord Evelyn +exclaimed, rather wildly. "Even if it is all true, you might escape." + +Brand turned away his head as he spoke. + +"Do you think, then," he said, slowly, "that, even if that were +possible, I should care to live red-handed? The Council cannot demand +that of me too. If there is one bullet for him, the next one will be for +myself; and if I miss the first shot I shall make sure about the second. +There will be no examination of the prisoner, as far as I am concerned. +I shall leave a paper stating the object and cause of my attempt; but I +shall go into it nameless, and the happiest thing I can hope for is that +forgetfulness will gather round it and me as speedily as may be." + +Lord Evelyn was deeply distressed. He could no longer refuse to believe; +and inadvertently he bethought himself of the time when he had besought +and entreated this old friend of his to join the great movement that was +to regenerate Europe. Was this the end, then--a vulgar crime?--the +strong, manly, generous life to be thrown away, and Natalie left +broken-hearted? + +"What about her?" he asked, timidly. + +"About Natalie, do you mean?" said Brand, starting somewhat. "Curiously +enough, I was thinking about her also. I was wondering whether it could +be concealed from her--whether it would not be better to let her imagine +with the others that I had got drowned or killed somewhere. But I could +not do that. The uncertainty would hang over her for years. Better the +sharp pain, at once--of parting; then her mother must take charge of her +and console her, and be kind to her. What I fear most is that she may +blame herself--she may fancy that she is some how responsible--" + +"It is I, surely, who must take, that blame on myself," said Lord +Evelyn, sadly. "But for me, how could you have been led into joining the +Society?" + +"Neither she nor you have anything to reproach yourselves with. What +was my life worth to me when I joined? Then for a time I saw a vision of +what may yet be in the world--of what will be, please God; and what does +it matter if one here or one there falls out of the ranks?--the great +army is moving on: and for a time there were others visions. Poor +Natalie!--I am glad her mother has come to her at last." + +He rose. + +"I wish I could offer you a bed here," Lord Evelyn said. + +"I have a great many things to arrange to-night," he answered, simply. +"Perhaps I may not be able to get to bed at all." + +Lord Evelyn hesitated. + +"When can I see you to-morrow?" he said at length. "You know I am going +to Lind the first thing in the morning." + +Brand stopped abruptly. + +"I must absolutely forbid your doing anything of the kind," said he, +firmly. "This is a matter of the greatest secrecy; there is to be no +talking about it; I have given you some hint, and the same I shall give +to Natalie, and there an end." He added, "Your interference would be +quite useless, Evelyn. The matter is not in Lind's hands." + +He bade his friend good-night. + +"Thank you for letting me bore you so long. You see, I expected talking +over the thing would drive off that first shock of nervousness. Now I am +going to play the part of Karl Sand with indifference. When you hear of +me, you will think I must have been brought up by the Tugendbund or the +Carbonari, or some of those societies." + +This cheerfulness did not quite deceive Lord Evelyn. He bade his friend +good-night with some sadness; his mind was not at ease about the share +he attributed to himself in this calamity. + +When Brand reached his chambers in Buckingham Street there was a small +parcel awaiting him. He opened it, and found a box with, inside, a tiny +nosegay of sweet-smelling flowers. These were not half as splendid as +those he had got the previous afternoon for the rooms in Hans Place, but +there was something accompanying them that gave them sufficient value. +It was a strip of paper, and on it was written--"From Natalie and from +Natalushka, with more than thanks." + +"I will carry them with me," he thought to himself, "until the day of my +death. Perhaps they may not have quite withered by then." + + + + +CHAPTER XLII. + +A COMMUNICATION. + + +Now, he said to himself, he would think no more; he would act. The long +talk with Lord Evelyn had enabled him to pull himself together; there +would be no repetition of that half-hysterical collapse. More than one +of his officer-friends had confessed to him that they had spent the +night before their first battle in abject terror, but that that had all +gone off as soon as they were called into action. And as for himself, he +had many things to arrange before starting on this hunting-expedition, +which was to serve as a cloak for another enterprise. He would have to +write at once, for example, to his sister--an invalid widow, who passed +her life alternately on the Riviera and in Switzerland--informing her of +his intended travels. He would have to see that a sufficient sum was +left for Natalie's mother, and put into discreet hands. The money for +the man Kirski would have to be properly tied up, lest it should prove a +temptation. Why, those two pieces of Italian embroidery lying there, he +had bought them months ago, intending to present them to Natalie, but +from time to time the opportunity had been missed. And so forth, and so +forth. + +But despite all this fortitude, and these commonplace and practical +considerations, his eyes would wander to that little handful of flowers +lying on the table, and his thoughts would wander farther still. As he +pictured to himself his going to the young Hungarian girl, and taking +her hand, and telling her that now it was no longer a parting for a +couple of years, but a parting forever, his heart grew cold and sick. He +thought of her terrified eyes, of her self-reproaches, of her +entreaties, perhaps. + +"I wish Evelyn would tell her," he murmured aloud, and he went to the +window. "Surely it would be better if I were never to see her again." + +It was a long and agonizing night, despite all his resolutions. The gray +morning, appearing palely over the river and the bridges, found him +still pacing up and down there, with nothing settled at all, no letter +written, no memoranda made. All that the night had done was to increase +a hundred-fold his dread of meeting Natalie. And now the daylight only +told him that that interview was coming nearer. It had become a question +of hours. + +At last, worn out with fatigue and despair, he threw himself on a couch +hard by, and presently sunk into a broken and troubled sleep. For now +the mind, emancipated from the control of the will, ran riot; and the +quick-changing pictures that were presented to him were full of fearful +things that shook his very life with terror. Awake he could force +himself to think of this or that; asleep, he was at the mercy of this +lurid imagination that seemed to dye each successive scene in the hue of +blood. First of all, he was in a great cathedral, sombre and vast, and +by the dim light of the candles he saw that some solemn ceremony was +going forward. Priests, mitred and robed, sat in a semicircle in front +of the altar; on the altar-steps were three figures; behind the altar a +space of gloom, from whence issued the soft, clear singing of the +choristers. Then, suddenly, into that clear sweet singing broke a loud +blare of trumpets; a man bounded on to the altar-steps; there was the +flash of a blade--a shriek--a fall; then the roar of a crowd, sullen, +and distant, and awful. It is the cry of a great city; and this poor +crouching fugitive, who hides behind the fountain in the Place, is +watching for his chance to dart away into some place of safety. But the +crowd have let him pass; they are merciful; they are glad of the death +of their enemy; it is only the police he has to fear. What lane is dark +enough? What ruins must he haunt, like a dog, in the night-time? But the +night is full of fire, and the stars overhead are red, and everywhere +there is a roar and a murmur--_the assassination of the Cardinal_! + +Well, it is quieter in this dungeon; and soon there will be an end, and +peace. But for the letters of fire that burns one's brain the place +would be as black as night; and it is still as night; one can sit and +listen. And now that dull throbbing sound--and a strain of music--is it +the young wife who, all unknowing, is digging her husband's grave? How +sad she is! She pities the poor prisoner, whoever he may be. She would +not dig this grave if she knew: she calls herself _Fidelio_; she is +faithful to her love. But now--but now--though this hole is black as +night, and silent, and the waters are lapping outside, cannot one know +what is passing there? There are some who are born to be happy. Ah, look +at the faithful wife now, as she strikes off her husband's +fetters--listen to the glad music, _destin ormai felice!_--they take +each other's hand--they go away proudly into the glad daylight--husband +and wife together for evermore. This poor prisoner listens, though his +heart will break. The happy music grows more and more faint--the husband +and wife are together now--the beautiful white day is around them--the +poor prisoner is left alone: there is no one even coming to bid him +farewell. + +The sleeper moaned in his sleep, and stretched out his hand as if to +seek some other hand. + +"No one--not even a word of good-bye!" he murmured. + +But then the dream changed. And now it was a wild and windy day in the +blowing month of March, and the streams in this Buckinghamshire valley +were swollen, and the woods were bare. Who are these two who come into +the small and bleak church-yard? They are a mother and daughter; they +are all in black; and the face of the daughter is pale, and her eyes +filled with tears. Her face is white, and the flowers she carries are +white, and that is the white tombstone there in the corner--apart from +the others. See how she kneels down at the foot of the grave, and puts +the flowers lightly on the grass, and clasps her trembling hands, and +prays. + +"_Natalie--my wife!_" he calls in his sleep. + +And behold! the white tombstone has letters of fire written on it, and +the white flowers are changed to drops of blood, and the two black +figures have hurried away and disappeared. How the wind tears down this +wide valley, in which there is no sign of life. It is so sad to be left +alone. + +Well, it was about eight o'clock when he was awakened by the entrance of +Waters. He jumped up, and looked around, haggard and bewildered. Then +his first thought was, + +"A few more nights like this, and Zaccatelli will have little to fear." + +He had his bath and breakfast; all the time he was forcing himself into +an indignant self-contempt. He held out his hand before him, expecting +to see it tremble: but no. This reassured him somewhat. + +A little before eleven he was at the house in Hans Place. He was +immediately shown up-stairs. Natalie's mother was there to receive him, +she did not notice he looked tired. + +"Natalie is coming to you this morning?" he said. + +"Oh yes; why not? It gives her pleasure, it gives me joy. But I will not +keep the child always in the house; no, she must have her walk. +Yesterday, after you had left, we went to a very secluded place--a +church not far from here, and a cemetery behind." + +"Oh, yes; I know," he said. "But you might have chosen a more cheerful +place for your walk." + +"Any place is cheerful enough for me when my daughter is with me," said +she, simply; "and it is quiet." + +George Brand sat with his hands clinched. Every moment he thought he +should hear Natalie knock at the door below. + +"Madame," he said, with some little hesitation, "something has happened +of serious importance--I mean, of a little importance. When Natalie +comes I must tell her--" + +"And you wish to see her alone, perhaps?" said the mother, lightly. "Why +not? And listen--it is she herself, I believe!" + +A minute afterward the door was opened, and Natalie entered, radiant, +happy, with glad eyes. Then she started when she saw George Brand there, +but there was no fear in her look. On the contrary, she embraced her +mother; then she went to him, and said, with a pleased flush in her +face, + +"I had no message this morning. You did not care, then, for our little +bunch of flowers?" + +He took her hand, and held it for a second. + +"I thought I should see you to-day, Natalie; I have something to tell +you." + +Her face grew graver. + +"Is it something serious?" + +"Well," said he, to gain time, for the mother was still in the room, "it +is serious or not serious, as you like to take it. It does not involve +the fate of a nation, for example." + +"It is mysterious, at all events." + +At this moment the elder woman took occasion to slip noiselessly from +the room. + +"Natalie," said he, "sit down here by me." + +She put the footstool on which she was accustomed to sit at her mother's +side close to his chair, and seated herself. He took her hand and held +it tight. + +"Natalie," said he, in a low voice--and he was himself rather pale--"I +am going to tell you something that may perhaps startle you, and even +grieve you; but you must keep command over yourself, or you will alarm +your mother--" + +"You are not in danger?" she cried, quickly, but in a low voice: there +was something in his tone that alarmed her. + +"The thing is simple enough," he said, with a forced composure. "You +know that when one has joined a certain Society, and especially when one +has accepted the responsibilities I have, there is nothing that may not +be demanded. Look at this ring, Natalie." + +"Yes, yes," she said, breathlessly. + +"That is a sufficient pledge, even if there were no others. I have sworn +allegiance to the Society at all hazards; I cannot retreat now." + +"But is it so very terrible?" she said, hurriedly. "Dearest, I will +come over to you in America. I have told my mother; she will take me to +you--" + +"I am not going to America, Natalie." + +She looked up bewildered. + +"I have been commissioned to perform another duty, more immediate, more +definite. And I must tell you now, Natalie, all that I dare tell you: +you must be prepared; it is a duty which will cost me my life!" + +"Your life?" she repeated, in a bewildered, wild way, and she hastily +drew her hand away from his. "Your life?" + +"Hush, Natalie!" + +"You are to die!" she exclaimed, and she gazed with terror-stricken eyes +into his face. She forgot all about his allegiance to the Society; she +forgot all about her theories of self-sacrifice; she only heard that the +man she loved was doomed, and she said, in a low, hoarse voice, "And it +is I, then, who have murdered you!" + +"Natalie!" he cried, and he would have taken her hand again, but she +withdrew from him, shuddering. She clasped her hands over her face. + +"Oh, do not touch me," she said, "do not come near me. I have murdered +you: it is I who have murdered you!" + +"For Heaven's sake, Natalie, be calm!" he said to her, in a low, earnest +voice. "Think of your mother: do not alarm her. You knew we might be +parted for years--well, this parting is a little worse to bear, that is +all--and you, who gave me this ring, you are not going to say a word of +regret. No, no, Natalushka, many thousands and thousands of people in +the world have gone through what stands before us now, and wives have +parted from their husbands without a single tear, so proud were they." + +She looked up quickly; her face was white. + +"I have no tears," she said, "none! But some wives have gone with their +husbands into the danger, and have died too--ah, how happy that were for +any one!--and I, why may not I go? I am not afraid to die." + +He laid his hand gently on the dark hair. + +"My child, it is impossible," he said; and then he added, rather sadly, +"It is not an enterprise that any one is likely to gain any honor by--it +is far from that; but it has to be undertaken--that is enough. As for +you--you have your mother to care for now; will not that fill your life +with gladness?" + +"How soon--do--you go away?" she asked, in a low voice. + +"Almost immediately," he said, watching her. She had not shed a +single tear, but there was a strange look on her face. "Nothing +is to be said about it. I shall be supposed to have started on a +travelling-expedition, that is all." + +"And you go--forever?" + +"Yes." + +She rose. + +"We shall see you yet before you go?" + +"Natalie," he said, in despair, "I had come to try to say good-bye to +you; but I cannot, my darling, I cannot! I must see you again." + +"I do not understand why you should wish to see again one like me," she +said, slowly, and the voice did not sound like her own voice. "I have +given you over to death: and, more than that, to a death that is not +honorable; and, yet I cannot even tell you that I am grieved. But there +is pain here." She put her hand over her heart; she staggered back a +little bit; he caught her. + +"Natalie--Natalie!" + +"It is a pain that kills," she said, wildly. + +"Natalie, where is your courage? I give my life without question; you +must bear your part too." + +She still held her hand over her bosom. + +"Yet," she said, as if she had not heard him, "that is what they say; it +kills, this pain in the heart. Why not--if one does not wish to live?" + +At this moment the door was opened, and the mother came into the room. + +"Madame," said Brand, quickly, "come and speak to your daughter. I have +had to tell her something that has upset her, perhaps, for a moment; but +you will console her; she is brave." + +"Child, how you tremble, and how cold your hands are!" the mother cried. + +"It does not matter, mother. From every pain there is a release, is +there not?" + +"I do not understand you, Natalushka?" + +"And I--and I, mother--" + +She was on the point of breaking down, but she held firm. Then she +released herself from her mother's hold, and went forward and took her +lover's hand, and regarded him with the sad, fearless, beautiful eyes. + +"I have been selfish," she said; "I have been thinking of myself, when +that is needless. For me there will be a release--quickly enough: I +shall pray for it. Now tell me what I must do: I will obey you." + +"First, then," said he, speaking in a low voice, and in English, so that +her mother should not understand, "you must make light of this affair, +or you will distress your mother greatly, and she is not able to bear +distress. Some day, if you think it right, you may tell her; you know +nothing that could put the enterprise in peril; she will be as discreet +and silent as yourself, Natalie. Then you must put it out of your mind, +my darling, that you have any share in what has occurred. What have I to +regret? My life was worthless to me; you made it beautiful for a time; +perhaps, who knows, it may after all turn out to have been of some +service, and then there can be no regret at all. They think so, and it +is not for me to question." + +"May I not tell my mother now?" she said, imploringly. "Dearest, how can +I speak to her, and be thinking of you far away?" + +"As you please, Natalie. The little I have told you or Evelyn can do no +harm, so long as you keep it among yourselves." + +"But I shall see again?" It was her heart that cried to him. + +"Oh yes, Natalie," he said, gravely. "I may not have to leave England +for a week or two. I will see you as often as I can until I go, my +darling, though it may only be torture to you." + +"Torture?" she said, sadly. "That will come after--until there is an end +of the pain." + +"Hush, you must not talk like that. You have now one with you whom it is +your duty to support and console. She has not had a very happy life +either, Natalie." + +He was glad now that he was able to leave this terror-stricken girl in +such tender hands. And as for himself, he found, when he had left, that +somehow the strengthening of another had strengthened himself. He had +less dread of the future; his face was firm; the time for vain regrets +was over. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIII. + +A QUARREL. + + +Meanwhile, almost immediately after George Brand had left the house in +Lisle Street, Reitzei and Beratinsky left also. On shutting the +street-door behind them, Beratinsky bade a curt good-night to his +companion, and turned to go; but Reitzei, who seemed to be in very high +spirits, stayed him. + +"No, no, friend Beratinsky; after such a fine night's work I say we must +have a glass of wine together. We will walk up to the Culturverein." + +"It is late," said the other, somewhat ungraciously. + +"Never mind. An hour, three-quarters of an hour, half an hour, what +matter? Come," said he, laying hold of his arm and taking him away +unwillingly, "it is not polite of you to force me to invite myself. I do +not suppose it is the cost of the wine you are thinking of. Mark my +words: when I am elected a member, I shall not be stingy." + +Beratinsky suffered himself to be led away, and together the two walked +up toward Oxford Street. Beratinsky was silent, and even surly: Reitzei +garrulous and self-satisfied. + +"Yes, I repeat it; a good night's work. For the thing had to be done; +there were the Council's orders; and who so appropriate as the +Englishman? Had it been you or I, Beratinsky, or Lind, how could any one +of us have been spared? No doubt the Englishman would have been glad to +have Lind's place, and Lind's daughter, too: however, that is all +settled now, and very well done. I say it was very well done on the part +of Lind. And what did you think of my part, friend Beratinsky?" + +"I think you made a fool of yourself, friend Reitzei," said the other, +abruptly. + +Reitzei was a vain young man, and he had been fishing for praise. + +"I don't know what you mean," he said, angrily. + +"What I mean I say," replied the other, with something very like cool +contempt. "I say you made a fool of yourself. When a man is drunk, he +does his best to appear sober; you, being sober, tried to appear drunk, +and made a fool of yourself." + +"My friend Beratinsky," said the younger man, hotly, "you have a right +to your own opinion--every man has that; but you should take care not +to make an ass of yourself by expressing it. Do not speak of things you +know nothing about--that is my advice to you." + +Beratinsky did not answer; and the two walked on in silence until they +reached the _Verein_, and entered the long, resounding hall, which was +nearly empty. But the few members who remained were making up for their +paucity of numbers by their mirth and noise. As Beratinsky and his +companion took their seats at the upper end of the table the chairman +struck his hammer violently, and commanded silence. + +"Silentium, meine Herren!" he thundered out. "I have a secret to +communicate. A great honor has been done one of our members, and even +his overwhelming modesty permits it to be known at last. Our good friend +Josef Hempel has been appointed Hof-maler to the Grand-duke of ----. I +call in you to drink his health and the Grand-duke's too!" + +Then there was a quick filling of glasses; a general uprising; cries of +"Hempel! Hempel!" "The Duke!" followed by a resounding chorus-- + + "Hoch sollen sie leben! + Hoch sollen sie leben! + Dreimal hoch!"-- + +that echoed away down the empty hall. Then the tumult subsided; and the +president, rising, said gravely, + +"I now call on our good friend Hempel to reply to the toast, and to give +us a few remarks on the condition of art in the Grand Duchy of ----, with +some observations and reflections on the altered position of the Duchy +since the unification of our Fatherland." + +In answer to this summons there rose to his feet a short old gentleman, +with a remarkably fresh complexion, silvery-white hair, and merry blue +eyes that peered through gold-rimmed spectacles. He was all smiles and +blushes; and the longer they cheered the more did he smile and blush. + +"Gentlemen," he said; and this was the signal for further cheering; +"Gentlemen," said the blushing orator, at length, "our friend is at his +old tricks. I cannot make a speech to you--except this: I ask you to +drink a glass of champagne with me. Kellner--Champagner!" + +And he incontinently dropped into his seat again, having forgotten +altogether to acknowledge the compliment paid to himself and the +Grand-duke. + +However, this was like the letting in of water; for no sooner had the +two or three bottles ordered by Herr Hempel been exhausted than one +after another of his companions seemed to consider it was their turn +now, and loud-shouted orders were continually being administered to the +busy waiter. Wine flowed and sparkled; cigars were freely exchanged; the +volume of conversation rose in tone, for all were speaking at once; the +din became fast and furious. + +In the midst of all this Reitzei alone sat apart and silent. Ever since +coming into the room the attention of Beratinsky had been monopolized by +his neighbor, who had just come back from a great artistic _fźte_ in +some German town, and who, dressed as the Emperor Barbarossa, and +followed by his knights, had ridden up the big staircase into the +Town-hall. The festivities had lasted for a fortnight; the +Staatsweinkeller had furnished liberal supplies; the Princess Adelheid +had been present at the crowning ceremony. Then he had brought with him +sketches of the various costumes, and so forth. Perhaps it was +inadvertently that Beratinsky so grossly neglected his guest. + +The susceptible vanity of Reitzei had been deeply wounded before he +entered, but now the cup of his wrath was filled to overflowing. The +more champagne he drank--and there was plenty coming and going--the more +sullen he became. For the rest, he had forgotten the circumstance that +he had already drunk two glasses of brandy before his arrival, and that +he had eaten nothing since mid-day. + +At length Beratinsky turned to him. + +"Will you have a cigar, Reitzei?" + +Reitzei's first impulse was to refuse to speak; but his wrongs forced +him. He said, coldly, + +"No, thanks; I have already been offered a cigar by the gentleman next +me. Perhaps you will kindly tell me how one, being sober, had any need +to pretend to be sober?" + +Beratinsky stared at him. + +"Oh, you are thinking about that yet, are you?" he said, indifferently; +and at this moment, as his neighbor called his attention to some further +sketches, he again turned away. + +But now the souls of the sons of the Fatherland, warmed with wine, began +to think of home and love and patriotism, and longed for some more +melodious utterances than this continuous guttural clatter. Silence was +commanded. A handsome young fellow, slim and dark, clearly a Jew, +ascended the platform, and sat down at the piano; the bashful Hempel, +still blushing and laughing, was induced to follow; together they sung, +amidst comparative silence, a duet of Mendelssohn's, set for tenor and +barytone, and sung it very well indeed. There was great applause, but +Hempel insisted on retiring. Left to himself, the young man with the +handsome profile and the finely-set head played a few bars of prelude, +and then, in a remarkably clear and resonant voice, sung Braga's +mystical and tender serenade, the "_Legende Valaque_," amidst a silence +now quite secured. But what was this one voice or that to all the +passion of music demanding utterance? Soon there was a call to the young +gentleman to play an accompaniment; and a huge black-a-vised Hessian, +still sitting at the table, held up his brimming glass, and began, in a +voice like a hundred kettle-drums, + + "Ich nehm' mein Glaschen in die Hand:" + +then came the universal shout of the chorus, ringing to the roof, + + "Vive la Compagneia!" + +Again the raucous voice bawled aloud, + + "Und fahr' damit in's Unterland:" + +and again the thunder of the chorus, this time prolonged, with much +beating of time on the table, and jangling of wine-glasses, + + "Vive la Compagneia! + Vive la, vive la, vive la, va! vive la, vive la, hopsasa! + Vive la Compagneia!" + +And so on to the end, the chorus becoming stormier and more thunderous +than ever; then, when peace had been restored, there was a general +rising, though here and there a final glass was drunk with "stosst an! +setzt an! fertig! los!" and its attendant ceremonies. The meeting had +broken up by common consent; there was a shuffling of footsteps, and +some disjointed talking and calling down the empty hall, were the lights +were already being put out. + +Reitzei had set silent during all this chorus-singing, though +ordinarily, being an excitable person, and indeed rather proud of his +voice, he was ready to roar with any one; and in silence, too, he walked +away with Beratinsky, who either was or appeared to be quite unconscious +of his companion's state of mind. At length Reitzei stopped +short--Oxford Street at this time of the morning was perfectly +silent--and said, + +"Beratinsky, I have a word to say to you." + +"Very well," said the other, though he seemed surprised. + +"I may tell you your manners are none of the best." + +Beratinsky looked at him. + +"Nor your temper," said he, "one would think. Do you still go back to +what I said about your piece of acting? You are a child, Reitzei." + +"I do not care about that," said Reitzei, contemptuously, though he was +not speaking the truth: his self-satisfaction had been grievously hurt. +"You put too great a value on your opinion, Beratinsky; it is not +everything that you know about: we will let that pass. But when one goes +into a society as a guest, one expects to be treated as a guest. No +matter; I was among my own countrymen: I was well enough entertained." + +"It appears so," said Beratinsky, with a sneer: "I should say too well. +My dear friend Reitzei, I am afraid you have been having a little too +much champagne." + +"It was none that you paid for, at all events," was the quick retort. +"No matter; I was among my own countrymen: they are civil; they are not +niggardly." + +"They can afford to spend," said the other, laughing sardonically, "out +of the plunder they take from others." + +"They have fought for what they have," the other said, hotly. "Your +countrymen--what have they ever done? Have they fought? No; they have +conspired, and then run away." + +But Beratinsky was much too cool-blooded a man to get into a quarrel of +this kind; besides, he noticed that Reitzei's speech was occasionally a +little thick. + +"I would advise you to go home and get to bed, friend Reitzei," said he. + +"Not until I have said something to you, Mr. Beratinsky," said the other +with mock politeness. "I have this to say, that your ways of late have +been a little too uncivil; you have been just rather too insolent, my +good friend. Now I tell you frankly it does not do for one in your +position to be uncivil and to make enemies." + +"For one in my position!" Beratinsky repeated, in a tone of raillery. + +"You think it is a joke, then, what happened to-night?" + +"Oh, that is what you mean; but if that is my position, what other is +yours, friend Reitzei?" + +"You pretend not to know. I will tell you: that was got up between you +and Lind; I had nothing to do with it." + +"Ho! ho!" + +"You may laugh; but take care you do not laugh the other way," said the +younger man, who had worked himself into a fury, and was all the madder +on account of the cynical indifference of his antagonist. "I tell you I +had nothing to do with it; it was your scheme and Lind's; I did as I was +bid. I tell you I could make this very plain if--" + +He hesitated. + +"Well--if what?" Beratinsky said, calmly. + +"You know very well. I say you are not in a position to insult people +and make enemies. You are a very clever man in your own estimation, my +friend Beratinsky; but I would give you the advice to be a little more +civil." + +Beratinsky regarded him for a second in silence. + +"I scarcely know whether it is worth while to point out certain things +to you, friend Reitzei, or whether to leave you to go home and sleep off +your anger." + +"My anger, as you call it, is not a thing of the moment. Oh, I assure +you it has nothing to do with the champagne I have just drunk, and which +was not paid for by you, thank God! No; my anger--my wish to have you +alter your manner a little--has been growing for some time; but it is of +late, my dear Beratinsky, that you have become more unbearable than +ever." + +"Don't make a fool of yourself, Reitzei; I at least am not going to +stand in the streets talking nonsense at two in the morning. +Good-night!" + +He stepped from the pavement on to the street, to cross. + +"Stop!" said Reitzei, seizing his arm with both hands. + +Beratinsky shook him off violently, and turned. There might have been a +blow; but Reitzei, who was a coward, shrunk back. + +Beratinsky advanced. + +"Look here, Reitzei," he said, in a low voice, "I think you are sober +enough to understand this. You were throwing out vague threats about +what you might do or might not do; that means that you think you could +go and tell something about the proceedings of to-night: you are a +fool!" + +"Very well--very well." + +"Perhaps you do not remember, for example, Clause I., the very first +clause in the Obligations binding on Officers of the Second Degree; you +do not remember that, perhaps?" He was now talking in a quietly +contemptuous way; the little spasm of anger that had disturbed him when +Reitzei put his hands on his arm had immediately passed away. "The +punishment for any one revealing, for any reason or purpose whatever, +what has been done, or is about to be done by orders of the Council, or +by any one acting under these orders--you remember the rest, my +friend?--the punishment is death! My good Reitzei, do not deprive me of +the pleasure of your companionship; and do not imagine that you can +force people to be polite to you by threats; that is not the way at all. +Go home and sleep away your anger; and do not imagine that you have any +advantage in your position, or that you are less responsible for what +has been done than any one." + +"I am not so sure about that," said Reitzei, sullenly. + +"In the morning you will be sure," said the other, compassionately, as +if he were talking to a child. + +He held out his hand. + +"Come, friend Reitzei," said he, with a sort of pitying kindness, "you +will find in the morning it will be all right. What happened to-night +was well arranged, and well executed; everybody must be satisfied. And +if you were a little too exuberant in your protestations, a little too +anxious to accept the work yourself, and rather too demonstrative with +your tremblings and your professions of courage and your clutching at +the bottle: what then? Every one is not a born actor. Every one must +make a mistake sometimes. But you won't take my hand?" + +"Oh, Mr. Beratinsky," said the other, with profound sarcasm, "how could +you expect it? Take the hand of one so wise as you, so great as you, +such a logician as you are? It would be too much honor; but if you will +allow me I will bid you good-night." + +He turned abruptly and left. Beratinsky stood for a moment or so looking +after him; then he burst into a fit of laughter that sounded along the +empty street. Reitzei heard the laughing behind him. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIV. + +TWICE-TOLD TALE. + + +When the door had closed on George Brand, Natalie stood for a second or +two uncertain, to collect her bewildered thoughts. She heard his +footsteps growing fainter and fainter: the world seemed to sway around +her; life itself to be slipping away. Then suddenly she turned, and +seized her mother by both her hands. + +"Child, child, what is the matter?" the mother cried, terrified by the +piteous eyes and white lips. + +"Ah, you could not have guessed," the girl said, wildly, "you could not +have guessed from his manner what he has told me, could you? He is not +one to say much; he is not one to complain. But he is about to lose his +life, mother--to lose his life! and it is I who have led him to this; it +is I who have killed him!" + +"Natalie," the mother exclaimed, turning rather pale, "you don't know +what you are saying." + +"But it is true; do not you understand, mother?" the girl said, +despairingly. "The Society has given him some duty to do--now, at +once--and it will cost him his life. Oh, do you think he complains?--no, +he is not one to complain. He says it is nothing; he has pledged +himself; he will obey; and what is the value of his one single life? +That is the way he talks, mother. And the parting between him and +me--that is so near, so near now--what is that, when there are thousands +and thousands of such every time that war is declared? I am to make +light of it, mother; I am to think it is nothing at all--that he should +be going away to die!" + +She had been talking quite wildly, almost incoherently; she had not +observed that her mother had grown paler than ever; nor had she heard +the half-murmured exclamation of the elder woman, + +"No, no--not the story twice told; he could not do that!" + +Then, with an unusual firmness and decision, she led her daughter to the +easy-chair, and made her sit down. + +"Natalie," she said, in earnest and grave tones, without any excitement +whatever, "you have told me your father was very much against you +marrying Mr. Brand." + +There was no answer. The girl sitting there could only think of that +terrible thing facing her in the immediate future. + +"Natalie," said her mother, firmly, "I wish you to listen. You said your +father was opposed to your marriage--that he would not hear of it; and +you remember telling me how Mr. Brand had refused to hand over his +property to the Society; and you talked of going to America if Mr. Brand +were sent? Natalie, this is your father's doing!" + +She looked up quickly, not understanding. The elder woman flushed +slightly, but continued in clear and even tones. + +"Perhaps I am wrong, Natalushka; perhaps I should not teach you to +suspect your father. But that is how I see it--this is what I +believe--that Mr. Brand, if what you say is true, is to be sacrificed, +not in the interests of the Society, but because your father is +determined to get him out of the way." + +"Oh, mother, it is impossible! How could any one be so cruel?" + +"It would be strange if the story were to be twice told," the mother +said, absently. Then she took a stool beside her daughter, and sat down +beside her, and took one of her hands in both hers. It was a reversal of +their ordinary position. + +"Listen, Natalie; I am going to tell you a story," she said, with a +curious resignation and sadness in her voice. "I had thought it might be +unnecessary to tell it to you; when Mr. Brand spoke of it, I said no. +But you will judge for yourself, and it will distract your mind for a +little. You must think of a young girl something like yourself, +Natalushka; not so handsome as you are, but a little pretty, and with +many friends. Oh yes, many friends, for at that time the family were in +very brilliant society and had large estates: alas! the estates were +soon all lost in politics, and all that remained to the family was their +name and some tales of what they had done. Well, this young lady, among +all her friends, had one or two sweethearts, as was natural--for there +were a great coming and going then, before the troubles broke out, and +many visitors at the house--only every one thought she ought to marry +her cousin Konrad, for they had been brought up together, and this +cousin Konrad was a good-looking young man, and amiable, and her parents +would have approved. Are you sure you are listening to my story, +Natalushka?" + +"Oh yes, mother," she said, in a low voice; "I think I understand." + +"Well," continued the mother, with rather a sad smile, "you know a girl +does not always choose the one whom her friends choose for her. Among +the two or three sweethearts--that is, those who wished to be +sweethearts, do you understand, Natalushka?--there was one who was more +audacious, perhaps, more persistent than the others; and then he was a +man of great ambition, and of strong political views; and the young lady +I was telling you about, Natalushka, had been brought up to the +political atmosphere, and had opinions also. She believed this man was +capable of doing great things; and her friends not objecting, she, after +a few years of waiting, owing to the troubles of political matters, +married him." + +She was silent for a moment or two. + +"Yes, they were married," she continued, with a sigh, "and for a time +every thing was happy, though the political affairs were so untoward, +and cost much suffering and danger. The young wife only admired her +husband's determined will, his audacity, his ambition after leadership +and power. But in the midst of all this, as time went on, he began to +grow jealous of the cousin Konrad; and Konrad, though he was a +light-hearted young fellow, and meaning no harm whatever, resented being +forbidden to see his cousin. He refused to cease visiting the house, +though the young wife begged him to do so. He was very proud and +self-willed, you must know, Natalushka. Well, the husband did not say +much, but he was morose, and once or twice he said to his wife, 'It is +not your fault that your cousin is impertinent; but let him take care.' +Then one day an old friend of his wife's father came to her, and said, +'Do you know what has happened? You are not likely to see your cousin +Konrad again. The Russian General ----, whom we bribed with twenty-four +thousand rubles to give us ten passports for crossing the frontier, now +refuses to give them, and Konrad has been sent to kill him, as a warning +to the others; he will be taken, and hanged.' I forgot to tell you, +Natalushka, that the girl I am speaking of was in all the secrets of the +association which had been started. You are more fortunate; you know +nothing." + +The interest of the listener had now been thoroughly aroused. She had +turned toward her mother, and had put her remaining hand over hers. + +"Well, this friend hinted something more; he hinted that it was the +husband of this young wife who had sent Konrad on this mission, and that +the means employed had not been quite fair." + +"Mother, what do you mean?" Natalie said, breathlessly. + +"I am telling you a story that really happened, Natalushka," said the +mother, calmly, and with the same pathetic touch in her voice. "Then the +young wife, without consideration--so anxious was she to save the life +of her cousin--went straight to the highest authorities of the +association, and appealed to them. The influence of her family aided +her. She was listened to; there was an examination; what the friend had +hinted was found to be true; the commission was annulled; Konrad was +given his liberty!" + +"Yes, yes!" said Natalie, eagerly. + +"But listen, Natalushka; I said I would tell you the whole story; it has +been kept from you for many a year. When it was found that the husband +had made use of the machinery of the association for his own +ends--which, it appears, was a great crime in their eyes--he was +degraded, and forbidden all hope of joining the Council, the ruling +body. He was in a terrible rage, for he was mad with ambition. He drove +the wife from his house--rather, he left the house himself--and he took +away with him their only child, a little girl scarcely two years old; +and he threatened the mother with the most terrible penalties if ever +again she should speak to her own child! Natalushka, do you understand +me? Do you wonder that my face is worn with grief? For sixteen years +that mother, who loved her daughter better than anything in the world, +was not permitted to speak to her, could only regard her from a +distance, and not tell her how she loved her." + +The girl uttered a cry of compassion, and wound her arms round her +mother's neck. + +"Oh, the cruelty of it!--the cruelty of it, mother! But why did you not +come to me? Do you think I would not have left everything to go with +you--you, alone and suffering?" + +For a time the mother could not answer, so deep were her sobs. + +"Natalushka," she said at length, in a broken voice, "no fear of any +danger threatening myself would have kept me from you; be sure of that. +But there was something else. My father had become compromised--the +Austrians said it was assassination; it was not!" For a second some hot +blood mounted to her cheeks. "I say it was a fair duel, and your +grandfather himself was nearly killed; but he escaped, and got into +hiding among some faithful friends--poor people, who had known our +family in better times. The Government did what they could to arrest +him; he was expressly exempted from the amnesty, this old man, who was +wounded, who was incapable of movement almost, whom every one expected +to die from day to day, and a word would have betrayed him and destroyed +him. Can you wonder, Natalushka, with that threat hanging over me--that +menace that the moment I spoke to you meant that my father would be +delivered to his enemies--that I said 'No, not yet will I speak to my +little daughter; I cannot sacrifice my father's life even to the +affection of a mother! But soon, when I have given him such care and +solace as he has the right to demand from me, then I will set out to see +my beautiful child--not with baskets of flowers, haunting the +door-steps--not with a little trinket, to drop in her lap, and perhaps +set her mind thinking--no, but with open arms and open heart, to see if +she is not afraid to call me mother.'" + +"Poor mother, how you must have suffered," the girl murmured, holding +her close to her bosom. "But with your powerful friends--those to whom +you appealed to before--why did you not go to them, and get safety from +the terrible threat hanging over you? Could they not protect him, my +grandfather, as they saved your cousin Konrad?" + +"Alas, child, your grandfather never belonged to the association! Of +what use was he to them--a sufferer expecting each day to be his last, +and not daring to move beyond the door of the peasant's cottage that +sheltered him? many a time he used to say to me, 'Natalie, go to your +child. I am already dead; what matters it whether they take me or not? +You have watched the old tree fade leaf by leaf; it is only the stump +that cumbers the ground. Go to your child; if they try to drag me from +here, the first mile will be the end; and what better can one wish for?' +But no; I could not do that." + +Natalie had been thinking deeply; she raised her head, and regarded her +mother with a calm, strange look. + +"Mother," she said, slowly, "I do not think I will ever enter my +father's house again." + +The elder woman heard this declaration without either surprise or joy. +She said, simply, + +"Do not judge rashly or harshly, Natalushka. Why have I refrained until +now from telling you the story but that I thought it better--I thought +you would be happier if you continued to respect and love your father. +Then consider what excuses may be made for him--" + +"None!" the girl said, vehemently. "To keep you suffering for sixteen +years away from your only child, and with the knowledge that at any +moment a word on his part might lead out your father to a cruel +death--oh, mother mother, you may ask me to forgive, but not to excuse!" + +"Ambition--the desire for influence and leadership--is his very life," +the mother said, calmly. "He cares more for that than anything in the +world--wife, child, anything, he would sacrifice to it. But now, child," +she said, with a concerned look, "can you understand why I have told you +the story?" + +Natalie looked up bewildered. For a time the interest of this story, +intense as it had been to her, had distracted her mind from her own +troubles; though all through she been conscious of some impending gloom +that seemed to darken the life around her. + +"It was not merely to tell you of my sufferings, Natalushka," the mother +said at once, gently and anxiously; "they are over. I am happy to be +beside you; if you are happy. But when a little time ago you told me of +Mr. Brand being ordered away to this duty, and of the fate likely to +befall him, I said to myself, 'Ah, no; surely it cannot be the story +told twice over. He would not dare to do that again.'" + +The girl turned deadly pale. + +"My child, that is why I asked you. Mr. Brand disappointed your father, +I can see, about the money affair. Then, when he might have been got out +of the way by being sent to America, you make matters worse than ever by +threatening to go with him." + +The girl did not speak, but her eyes were terrified. + +"Natalie," the mother said gently, "have I done wrong to put these +suspicions into your mind? Have I done wrong to put you into antagonism +with your father? My child I cannot see you suffer without revealing to +you what I imagine may be the cause--even if it were impossible to fight +against it--even if one can only shudder at the cruelty of which some +are capable: we can pray God to give us resignation." + +Natalie Lind was not listening at all; her face was white, her lips +firm, her eyes fixed. + +"Mother," she said at length, in a low voice, and speaking as if she +were weighing each word, "if you think the story is being told again, +why should it not be carried out? You appealed, to save the life of one +who loved you. And I--why may not I also?" + +"Oh, child, child!" the mother cried in terror, laying hold of her arm. +"Do not think of it: anything but that! You do not know how terrible +your father is when his anger is aroused: look at what I have suffered. +Natalushka, I will not have you lead the life that I have led; you must +not, you dare not, interfere!" + +The girl put her hand aside, and sprung to her feet. No longer was she +white of face. The blood of the Berezolyis was in her cheeks; her eyes +were dilated; her voice was proud and indignant. + +"And I," she said, "if this is true--if this is possible--Oh, do you +think I am going to see a brave man sent to his death, shamelessly, +cruelly, and not do what I can to save him? It is not for you, mother, +it is not for one who bears the name that you bear to tell me to be +afraid. What I did fear was to live, with him dead. Now--" + +The mother had risen quickly to her feet also, and sought to hold her +daughter's hands. + +"For the sake of Heaven, Natalushka!" she pleaded. "You are running into +a terrible danger--" + +"Do I care, mother? Do I look as if I cared?" she said, proudly. + +"And for no purpose, Natalushka; you will only bring down on yourself +the fury of your father, and he will make your life as miserable as he +has made mine. And what can you do, child? what can you do but bring +ruin on yourself? You are powerless: you have no influence with those in +authority as I at one time had. You do not know them: how can you reach +them?" + +"You forget, mother," the girl said, triumphantly; "was it not you +yourself who asked me if I had ever heard of one Bartolotti?" + +The mother uttered a slight cry of alarm. + +"No, no, Natalushka, I beg of you--" + +The girl took her mother in her arms and kissed her. There was a strange +joy in her face; the eyes were no longer haggard, but full of light and +hope. + +"You dear mother," she said, as she gently compelled her to be seated +again, "that is the place for you. You will remain here, quiet, +undisturbed by any fears; no one shall molest you; and when you have +quite recovered from all your sufferings, and when your courage has +returned to you, then I will come back and tell you my story. It is +story for story, is it not?"' + +She rung the bell. + +"Pardon me, dear mother; there is no time to be lost. For once I return +to my father's house--yes, there is a card there that I must have--" + +"But afterward, child, where do you go?" the mother said, though she +could scarcely find utterance. + +"Why, to Naples, mother; I am an experienced traveller; I shall need no +courier." + +The blood had mounted into both cheek and forehead; her eyes were full +of life and pride; even at such a moment the anxious, frightened mother +was forced to think she had never seen her daughter look so beautiful. + +The door opened. + +"Madame, be so good as to tell Anneli that I am ready." + +She turned to her mother. + +"Now, mother, it is good-bye for I do not know how long." + +"Oh no, it is not, child," said the other, trembling, and yet smiling in +spite of all her fears. "If you are going to travel, you must have a +courier. I will be your courier, Natalushka." + +"Will you come with me, mother?" she cried, with a happy light leaping +to her eyes. "Come, then--we will give courage to each other, you and I, +shall we not? Ah, dear mother, you have told me your story only in time; +but we will go quickly now--you and I together!" + + + + +CHAPTER XLV. + +SOUTHWARD. + + +After so much violent emotion the rapid and eager preparations for +travel proved a useful distraction. There was no time to lose; and +Natalie very speedily found that it was she herself who must undertake +the duties of a courier, her mother being far too anxious and alarmed. +Once or twice, indeed, the girl, regarding the worn, sad face, almost +repented of having accepted that impulsive offer, and would have +proposed to start alone. But she knew that, left in solitude, the poor +distressed mother would only torture herself with imaginary fears. As +for herself, she had no fear; her heart was too full to have any room +for fear. And yet her hand trembled a little as she sat down to write +these two messages of farewell. The first ran thus: + +"My Father,--To-day, for the first time, I have heard my mother's story +from herself. I have looked into her eyes; I know she speaks the truth. +You will not wonder then that I leave your house--that I go with her; +there must be some one to try to console her for all she has suffered, +and I am her daughter. I thank you for many years of kindness, and pray +God to bless you. + + Natalie." + +The next was easier to write. + +"Dearest,--My mother and I leave England to-night. Do not ask why we go, +or why I have not sent for you to come and say good-bye. We shall be +away perhaps only a few days; in any case you must not go until we +return. Do not forget that I must see you again." + + Natalie." + +She felt happier when she had written these two notes. She rose from the +table and went over to her mother. + +"Now, mother, tell me how much money you have," she said, with a highly +practical air. "What, have I startled you, poor little mother? I believe +your head is full of all kinds of strange forebodings; and yet they used +to say that the Berezolyis were all of them very courageous." + +"Natalushka, you do not know what danger you are rushing into," the +mother said, absently. + +"I again ask you, mother, a simple question: how much money have you?" + +"I? I have thirty pounds or thereabout, Natalie; that is my capital, as +it were; but next month my cousins will send me--" + +"Never mind about next month, mother dear. You must let me rob you of +all your thirty pounds; and, just to make sure, I will go and borrow ten +pounds more from Madame Potecki. Madame is not so very poor; she has +savings; she would give me every farthing if I asked her. And do you +think, little mother, if we come back successful--do you think there +will be a great difficulty about paying back the loan to Madame +Potecki?" + +She was quite gay, to give her mother courage; and she refused to leave +her alone, a prey to these gloomy forebodings. She carried her off with +her in the cab to Curzon Street, and left her in the cab while she +entered the house with Anneli. Anneli cried a little when she was +receiving her mistress's last instructions. + +"Am I never to see you again, Fraulein?" she sobbed. "Are you never +coming back to the house any more?" + +"Of course you will see me again, you foolish girl, even if I do not +come back here. Now you will be careful, Anneli, to have the wine a +little warmed before dinner, and see that your master's slippers are in +the study by the fire; and the coffee--you must make the coffee +yourself, Anneli--" + +"Oh yes, indeed, Fraulein, I will make the coffee," said Anneli, with a +fresh flowing of tears. "But--but may not I go with you, Fraulein?--if +you are not coming back here any more, why may I not go with you? I am +not anxious for wages, Fraulein--I do not want any wages at all; but if +you will take me with you--" + +"Now, do not be foolish, Anneli. Have you not a whole house to look +after? There, take these keys; you will have to show that you can be a +good house-mistress, and sensible, and not childish." + +At the door she shook hands with the sobbing maid, and bade her a +cheerful good-bye. Then she got into the cab and drove away to Madame +Potecki's lodgings. Finally, by dexterous management, she succeeded in +getting her mother and herself to Charing Cross Station in time to catch +the afternoon express to Dover. + +It is probable that, now the first excitement of setting out was over, +and the two women-folk left to themselves in the solitude of a +compartment, Natalie might have begun to reflect with some tremor of the +heart on the very vagueness of the task she had undertaken. But she was +not permitted to do so. The necessity of driving away her mother's +forebodings prevented her indulging in any of her own. She was forced to +be careless, cheerful, matter-of-fact. + +"Natalushka," the mother said, holding her daughter's hand, "you have +been brought up in ignorance. You know only the romantic, the beautiful +side of what is going on; you do not know what these men are ready to +do--what has been done--to secure the success of their schemes. And for +you, a girl, to interfere, it is madness, Natalushka. They will laugh at +you, perhaps; perhaps it may be worse; they may resent your +interference, and ask who has betrayed their secrets." + +"Are they so very terrible, then?" said the girl, with a smile, "when +Lord Evelyn--ah, you do not know him yet, mother; but he is as gentle as +a woman--when he is their friend; and when Mr. Brand is full of +admiration for what they are doing; and when Calabressa--Now, mother, is +Calabressa likely to harm any one? And it was Calabressa himself who +said to me, 'Little daughter, if ever you are in great trouble, go to +Naples. You will find friends there.' No, mother, it is no use your +trying to frighten me. No; let us talk about something sensible; for +example, which way is the wind?" + +"How can I tell, Natalushka?" + +The girl laughed--rather a forced laugh, perhaps; she could not +altogether shake off the consciousness of the peril that surrounded her +lover. + +"Why, mother, you are a pretty courier! You are about to cross the +Channel, and you do not know which way the wind is, or whether the sea +is rough, or anything. Now I will tell you; it is I who am the courier. +The wind is northeast; the sea was quite smooth yesterday evening; I +think we shall have a comfortable passage. And do you know why I have +brought you away by this train? Don't you know that I shall get you down +to Dover in time to give you something nice for dinner; then, if the sea +is quite smooth, we go on board before the people come; then we cross +over to Calais and go to a hotel there; then you get a good, long, sound +sleep, you little mother, and the next day--that is to-morrow--about +noon, I think, we go easily on to Paris. What do you think of that, +now?" + +"Whatever you do will be right, Natalushka; you know I have never before +had a daughter to look after me." + +Natalie's programme was fulfilled to the letter, and with good fortune. +They dined in the hotel, had some tea, and then went down through the +dark clear night to the packet. The sea was like a mill-pond; there was +just sufficient motion of the water to make the reflections of the stars +quiver in the dark. The two women sat together on deck; and as the +steamer gradually took them away from the lights of the English coast, +Natalie sung to her mother, in a low voice, some verses of an old Magyar +song, which were scarcely audible amidst the rush of water and the +throbbing of the paddles. + +Next day the long and tedious railway journey began; and here again +Natalie acted as the most indefatigable and accomplished of couriers. + +"How do you manage it, Natalushka?" said the mother, as she got into the +_coupe_, to this tall and handsome young lady who was standing outside, +and on whom everybody seemed to wait. "You get everything you want, and +without trouble." + +"It is only practice, with a little patience," she said, simply, as she +opened her flask of white-rose scent and handed it up to her mother. + +Necessarily, it was rail all the way for these two travellers. Not for +them the joyous assembling on the Mediterranean shore, where Nice lies +basking in the sun like a pink surf thrown up by the waves. Not for them +the packing of the great carriage, and the swinging away of the four +horses with their jingling bells, and the slow climbing of the Cornice, +the road twisting up the face of the gray mountains, through perpetual +lemon-groves, with far below the ribbed blue sea. Not for them the +leisurely trotting all day long through the luxuriant beauty of the +Riviera--the sun hot on the ruddy cliffs of granite, and on the terraces +of figs and vines and spreading palms; nor the rattling through the +narrow streets of the old walled towns, with the scarlet-capped men and +swarthy-visaged women shrinking into the door-ways as the horses clatter +by; nor the quiet evenings in the hotel garden, with the moon rising +over the murmuring sea, and the air sweet with the perfumes of the +south. No. They climbed a mountain, it is true, but it was behind an +engine; they beheld the Mont Cenis snows, but it was from the window of +a railway-carriage. Then they passed through the black, resounding +tunnel, with, after a time, its sudden glares of light; finally the +world seemed to open around them; they looked down upon Italy. + +"Many a one has died for you, and been glad," said the girl, almost to +herself, as she gazed abroad on the great valleys, with here and there a +peak crowned with a castle or a convent, with the vine-terraced hills +showing now and again a few white dots of houses, and beyond and above +all these the far blue mountains, with their sharp line of snow. + +Then they descended, and passed through the luxuriant yellow plains--the +sunset blazing on the rows of willows and on the square farm-houses with +their gaudy picture over the arched gateway; while always in the +background rose the dark masses of the mountains, solemn and distant, +beyond the golden glow of the fields. They reached Turin at dusk, both +of them very tired. + +So far scarcely anything had been said about the object of their +journey, though they could have talked in safety even in +railway-carriages, as they spoke to each other in Magyar. But Natalie +refused to listen to any dissuading counsel; when her mother began, she +would say, "Dear little mother, will you have some white rose for your +forehead and your fingers?" + +From Turin they had to start again early in the morning. They had by +this time grown quite accustomed to the plod, plodding of the train; it +seemed almost one of the normal and necessary conditions of life. They +went down by Genoa, Spezia, Pisa, Sienna, and Rome, making the shortest +possible pauses. + +One night the windows of a sitting-room in a hotel at the western end of +Naples were opened, and a young girl stepped out on to the high balcony, +a light shawl thrown over her head and shoulders. It was a beautiful +night; the air sweet and still; the moonlight shining over the scarcely +stirring waters of the bay. Before her rose the vast bulk of the +Castello dell' Ovo, a huge mass of black shadow against the silvery sea +and the lambent sky: then far away throbbed the dull orange lights of +the city; and beyond these, again, Vesuvius towered into the clear +darkness, with a line of sharp, intense crimson marking its summit. +Through the perfect silence she could hear the sound of the oars of a +boat, itself unseen; and over the whispering waters came some faint and +distant refrain, "_Addio! addio!_" At length even these sounds ceased, +and she was alone in the still, murmuring beautiful night. + +She looked across to the great city. Who were her unknown friends there? +What mighty power was she about to invoke on the morrow? There was no +need for her to consult the card that Calabressa had given her; again +and again, in the night-time, when her mother lay asleep, she had +studied it, and wondered whether it would prove the talisman the giver +had called it. She looked at this great city beside the sea, and only +knew that it was beautiful in the moonlight; she had no fear of anything +that it contained. And then she thought of another city, far away in the +colder north, and she wondered if a certain window were open there, +overlooking the river and the gas-lamp and the bridges, and whether +there was one there thinking of her. Could not the night-wind carry the +speech and desire of her heart?--"Good-night, good-night.... Love knows +no fear.... Not yet is our life forever broken for us." + + + + +CHAPTER XLVI. + +THE BEECHES. + + +On the same night Lord Evelyn was in Brand's rooms, arguing, +expostulating, entreating, all to no purpose. He was astounded at the +calmness with which this man appeared to accept the terrible task +imposed on him, and at the stoical indifference with which he looked +forward to the almost certain sacrifice of his own life. + +"You have become a fanatic of fanatics!" he exclaimed, indignantly. + +George Brand was staring out of the windows into the dark night, +somewhat absently. + +"I suppose," he answered, "all the great things that have been done in +the world have been founded in fanaticism. All that I can hope for now +is that this particular act of the Council may have the good effect +they hope from it. They ought to know. They see the sort of people with +whom they have to deal. I should have thought, with Lind, that it was +unwise--that it would shock, or even terrify; but my opinion is neither +here nor there. Further talking is of no use, Evelyn; the thing is +settled; what I have to consider now, as regards myself, is how I can +best benefit a few people whom I am interested in, and you can help me +in that." + +"But I appeal to yourself--to your conscience!" Lord Evelyn cried, +almost in despair. "You cannot shift the responsibility to them. You are +answerable for your own actions. I say you are sacrificing your +conscience to your pride. You are saying to yourself, 'Do these +foreigners think that I am afraid?'" + +"I am not thinking of myself at all," said Brand, simply; "that is all +over. When I swore to give myself to this Society--to obey the commands +of the Council--then my responsibility ceased. What I have to do is to +be faithful to my oath, and to the promise I have made." Almost +unconsciously he glanced at the ring that Natalie had given him. "You +would not have me skulk back like a coward? You would not have me 'play +and not pay?' What I have undertaken to do I will do." + +Presently he added, + +"There is something you could do, Evelyn. Don't let us talk further of +myself: I said before, if a single man drops out of the ranks, what +matter?--the army marches on. And what has been concerning me of late is +the effect that this act of the Council may have on our thousands of +friends throughout this country. Now, Evelyn, when--when the affair +comes off, I think you would do a great deal of good by pointing out in +the papers what a scoundrel this man Zaccatelli was; how he had merited +his punishment, and how it might seem justifiable to the people over +there that one should take the law into one's own hands in such an +exceptional case. You might do that, Evelyn, for the sake of the +Society. The people over here don't know what a ruffian he is, and how +he is beyond the ordinary reach of the law, or how the poor people have +groaned under his iniquities. Don't seek to justify me; I shall be +beyond the reach of excuse or execration by that time; but you might +break the shock, don't you see?--you might explain a little--you might +intimate to our friends who have joined us here that they had not joined +any kind of Camorra association. That troubles me more than anything. I +confess to you that I have got quite reconciled to the affair, as far +as any sacrifice on my own part is concerned. That bitterness is over; I +can even think of Natalie." + +The last words were spoken slowly, and in a low voice; his eyes were +fixed on the night-world outside. What could his friend say? They talked +late into the night; but all his remonstrances and prayers were of no +avail as against this clear resolve. + +"What is the use of discussion?" was the placid answer. "What would you +have me do?--break my oaths--put aside my sacred promise made to +Natalie, and give up the Society altogether? My good fellow, let us talk +of something less impossible." + +And indeed, though he deprecated discussion on this point, he was +anxious to talk. The fact was that of late he had come to fear sleep, as +the look of his eyes testified. In the daytime, or as long as he could +sit up with a companion, he could force himself to think only of the +immediate and practical demands of the hour; vain regrets over what +might have been--and even occasional uneasy searchings of conscience--he +could by an effort of will ignore. He had accepted his fate; he had +schooled himself to look forward to it without fear; henceforth there +was to be no indecision, no murmur of complaint. But in the +night-time--in dreams--the natural craving for life asserted itself; it +seemed so sad to bid good-bye forever to those whom he had known and +loved; and mostly always it was Natalie herself who stood there, +regarding him with streaming eyes, and wringing her hands, and sobbing +to him farewell. The morning light, or the first calls in the +thoroughfare below, or the shrieking of some railway-whistle on +Hungerford Bridge brought an inexpressible relief by banishing these +agonizing visions. No matter how soon Waters was astir, he found his +master up before him--dressed, and walking up and down the room, or +reading some evening newspaper of the previous day. Sometimes Brand +occupied himself in getting ready his own breakfast, but he had to +explain to Waters that this was not meant as a rebuke--it was merely +that, being awake early, he wished for some occupation. + +Early on the morning after this last despairing protest on the part of +Lord Evelyn, Brand drove up to Paddington Station, on his way to pay a +hurried visit to his Buckinghamshire home. Nearly all his affairs had +been settled in town; there remained some arrangements to be made in the +country. Lord Evelyn was to have joined him in this excursion, but at +the last moment had not put in an appearance; so Brand jumped in just +as the train was starting, and found himself alone in the carriage. + +The bundle of newspapers he had with him did not seem to interest him +much. He was more than ever puzzled to account for the continued silence +of Natalie. Each morning he had been confidently expecting to hear from +her--to have some explanation of her sudden departure--but as the days +went by, and no message of any sort arrived, his wonder became merged in +anxiety. It seemed so strange that she should thus absent herself, when +she had been counting on each day on which she might see him as if it +were some gracious gift from Heaven. + +All that he was certain of in the matter was that Lind knew no more than +himself as to where Natalie had gone. One afternoon, going out from his +rooms into Buckingham Street, he caught sight of Beratinsky loitering +about farther up the little thoroughfare, about the corner of John +Street. Beratinsky's back was turned to him, and so he took advantage of +the moment to open the gate, for which he had a private key, leading +down to the old York Gate; from thence he made his way round by Villiers +Street, whence he could get a better view of the little black-a-vised +Pole's proceedings. + +He speedily convinced himself that Beratinsky, though occasionally he +walked along in the direction of Adam Street, and though sometimes he +would leisurely stroll up to the Strand, was in reality keeping an eye +on Buckingham Street and he had not the least doubt that he himself was +the object of this surveillance. He laughed to himself. Had these wise +people in Lisle Street, then, discovering that Natalie's mother was in +London, arrived at the conclusion that she and her daughter had taken +refuge in so very open a place of shelter? When Beratinsky was least +expecting any such encounter, Brand went up and tapped him on the +shoulder. + +"How do you do, Mr. Beratinsky?" said he, when the other wheeled round. +"This is not the most agreeable place for a stroll. Why do you not go +down to the Embankment Gardens?" + +Beratinsky was angry and confused, but did not quite lose his +self-command. + +"I am waiting for some one," he said, curtly. + +"Or to find out about some one? Well, I will save you some trouble. Lind +wishes to know where his wife and daughter are, I imagine." + +"Is that unnatural?" + +"I suppose not. I heard he had been down to Hans Place, where Madame +Lind was staying." + +"You knew, then?" the other said, quickly. + +"Oh yes, I knew. Now, if you will be frank with me, I may be of some +assistance to you. Lind does not know where his wife and daughter are?" + +"You know he does not." + +"And you--perhaps you fancied that one or other might be sending a +message to me--might call, perhaps--or even that I might have got them +rooms for the time being?" + +The Englishman's penetrating gray eyes were difficult to avoid. + +"You appear to know a good deal, Mr. Brand," Beratinsky said, somewhat +sulkily. "Perhaps you can tell me where they are now?" + +"I can tell you where they are not, and that is in London." + +The other looked surprised, then suspicious. + +"Oh, believe me or not, as you please: I only wish to save you trouble. +I tell you that, to the best of my belief, Miss Lind and her mother are +not in London, nor in this country even." + +"How do you know?" + +"Pardon me; you are going too far. I only tell you what I believe. In +return, as I have saved you some trouble, I shall expect you to let me +know if you hear anything about them. Is that too much to ask?" + +"Then you really don't know where they are?" Beratinsky said, with a +quick glance. + +"I do not; but they have left London--that I know." + +"I am very much obliged to you," said the other, more humbly. "I wish +you good evening, Mr. Brand." + +"Stay a moment. Can you tell me what Yacov Kirski's address is? I have +something to arrange with him before I leave England." + +He took out his note-book, and put down the address that Beratinsky gave +him. Then the latter moved away, taking off his hat politely, but not +shaking hands. + +Brand was amused rather than surprised at this little adventure; but +when day after day passed, and no tidings came from Natalie, he grew +alarmed. Each morning he was certain there would be a letter; each +morning the postman rung the bell below, and Waters would tumble down +the stairs at breakneck speed, but not a word from Natalie or her +mother. + +At the little Buckinghamshire station at which he stopped he found a +dog-cart waiting to convey him to Hill Beeches; and speedily he was +driving away through the country he knew so well, now somewhat desolate +in the faded tints of the waning of the year; and perhaps, as he drew +near to the red and white house on the hill, he began to reproach +himself that he had not made the place more his home. Though the grounds +and shrubberies were neat and trim enough, there was a neglected look +about the house itself. When he entered, his footsteps rung hollow on +the uncarpeted floors. Chintz covered the furniture; muslin smothered +the chandeliers; everything seemed to be locked up and put away. And +this comely woman of sixty or so who came forward to meet him--a +smiling, gracious dame, with silvery-white hair, and peach-like cheeks, +and the most winning little laugh--was not her first word some hint to +the young master that he had been a long time away, and how the +neighbors were many a time asking her when a young mistress was coming +to the Beeches, to keep the place as it used to be kept in the olden +days? + +"Ah well, sir, you know how the people do talk," she said, with an +apologetic smile. "And there was Mrs. Diggles, sir, that is at the +Checkers, sir, and she was speaking only the other day, as it might be, +about the old oak cupboard, that you remember, sir, and she was saying, +'Well, I wouldn't give that cupboard to Mahster Brand, though he offered +me twenty pound for it years ago--twenty pound, not a farthing less. My +vather he gave me that cupboard when I was married, and ten shillings +was what he paid for it: and then there was twenty-five shillings paid +for putting that cupboard to rights. And then the wet day that Mahster +Brand was out shooting, and the Checkers that crowded that I had to ask +him and the other gentleman to go into my own room, and what does he say +but, "Mrs. Diggles, I will give you twenty pound for that cupboard of +yourn, once you knock off the feet and the curly bit on the top." Law, +how the gentle-folk do know about sech things: that was exactly what my +vather he paid the twenty-five shillings for. But how could I give him +my cupboard for twenty pound when I had promised it to my nephew? When +I'm taken, that cupboard my nephew shall have.' Well, sir, the people do +say that Mrs. Diggles and her nephew have had a quarrel; and this was +what she was saying to me--begging your pardon, sir--only the other day, +as it might be; says she, 'Mrs. Alleyne, this is what I will do: when +your young mahster brings home a wife to the Beeches, I will make his +lady a wedding-present of that cupboard of mine--that I will, if so be +as she is not too proud to accept it from one in my 'umble station. It +will be a wedding-present, and the sooner the better,' says she--begging +of your pardon, sir." + +"It is very kind of her, Mrs. Alleyne. Now let me have the keys, if you +please; I have one or two things to see to, and I will not detain you +now." + +She handed him the keys and accepted her dismissal gratefully, for she +was anxious to get off and see about luncheon. Then Brand proceeded to +stroll quietly, and perhaps even sadly, through the empty and resounding +rooms that had for him many memories. + +It was a rambling, old-fashioned, oddly-built house, that had been added +on to by successive generations, according to their needs, without much +reference to the original design. It had come into the possession of the +Brands of Darlington by marriage: George Brand's grandfather having +married a certain Lady Mary Heaton, the last representative of an old +and famous family. And these lonely rooms that he now walked +through--remarking here and there what prominence had been given by his +mother to the many trophies of the chase that he himself had sent home +from various parts of the world--were hung chiefly with portraits, whose +costumes ranged from the stiff frill and peaked waist of Elizabeth to +the low neck and ringleted hair of Victoria. But there was in an inner +room which he entered another collection of portraits that seemed to +have a peculiar fascination for him--a series of miniatures of various +members of the Heaton and Brand families, reaching down even to himself, +for the last that was added had been taken when he was a lad, to send to +his mother, then lying dangerously ill at Cannes. There was her own +portrait, too--that of a delicate-looking woman with large, lustrous, +soft eyes and wan cheeks, who had that peculiar tenderness and sweetness +of expression that frequently accompanies consumption. He sat looking at +these various portraits a long time, wondering now and again what this +or that one may have suffered or rejoiced in; but more than all he +lingered over the last, as if to bid those beautiful tender eyes a final +farewell. + +He was startled by the sound of some vehicle rattling over the gravel +outside; then he heard some one come walking through the echoing rooms. +Instantly, he scarcely knew why he shut down the lid of the case in +front of him. + +"Missed the train by just a second," Lord Evelyn said, coming into the +room; "I am awfully sorry." + +"It doesn't matter," Brand answered; "but I am glad you have come. I +have everything squared up in London, I think; there only remains to +settle a few things down here." + +He spoke in quite a matter-of-fact way--so much so that his friend +forgot to utter any further and unavailing protest. + +"You know I am supposed to be going away abroad for a long time," he +continued. "You must take my place, Evelyn, in a sort of way, and I will +introduce you to-day to the people you must look after. There is a +grandson of my mother's nurse, for example: I promised to do something +for him when he completed his apprenticeship; and two old ladies who +have seen better days--they are not supposed to accept any help, but you +can make wonderful discoveries about the value of their old china, and +carry it off to Bond Street. I will leave you plenty of funds; before my +nephew comes into the place there will be sufficient for him and to +spare. But as for yourself, Evelyn, I want you to take some little +souvenir--how about this?" + +He went and fetched a curious old silver drinking-cup, set round the lip +and down the handle with uncut rubies and sapphires. + +"I don't like the notion of the thing at all," Lord Evelyn said, rather +gloomily; but it was not the cup that he was refusing thus ungraciously. + +"After a time people will give me up for lost; and I have left you ample +power to give any one you can think of some little present, don't you +know, as a memento--whatever strikes your own fancy. I want Natalie to +have that Louis XV. table over there--people rather admire the inlaid +work on it, and the devices inside are endless. However, we will make +out a list of these things afterward. Will you drive me down to the +village now? I want you to see my pensioners." + +"All right--if you like," Lord Evelyn said; though his heart was not in +the work. + +He walked out of this little room and made his way to the front-door, +fancying that Brand would immediately follow. But Brand returned to that +room, and opened the case of miniatures. Then he took from his pocket a +little parcel, and unrolled it: it was a portrait of Natalie--a +photograph on porcelain, most delicately colored, and surrounded with an +antique silver frame. He gazed for a minute or two at the beautiful +face, and somehow the eyes seemed sad to him. Then he placed the little +portrait--which itself looked like a miniature--next the miniature of +his mother, and shut the case and locked it. + +"I beg your pardon, Evelyn, for keeping you waiting," he said, at the +front-door. "Will you particularly remember this--that none of the +portraits here are to be disturbed on any account whatever?" + + + + +CHAPTER XLVII. + +AT PORTICI. + + +Natalie slept far from soundly the first night after her arrival in +Naples; she was glad when the slow, anxious hours, with all their +bewildering uncertainties and forebodings, were over. She rose early, +and dressed quickly; she threw open the tall French windows to let in +the soft silken air from the sea; then she stepped out on the balcony to +marvel once more--she who knew Naples well enough--at the shining beauty +around her. + +It was a morning to give courage to any one; the air was fresh and +sweet; she drank deep of the abundant gladness and brightness of the +world. The great plain of waters before her shimmered and sparkled in +millions of diamonds; with here and there long splashes of sunny green, +and here and there long splashes of purple where the sea-weed showed +through. The waves sprung white on the projecting walls of the Castello +dell' Ovo, and washed in on the shore with a soft continuous murmur; the +brown-sailed fishing-boats went by, showing black or red as they +happened to be in sunshine or shadow. Then far away beyond the shining +sea the island of Capri lay like a blue cloud on the horizon; and far +away beyond the now awakening city near her rose Vesuvius, the twin +peaks dark under some swathes of cloud, the sunlight touching the lower +slopes into a yellowish green, and shining on the pink fringe of villas +along the shore. On so fair and bright a morning hope came as natural to +her as singing to a bird. The fears of the night were over; she could +not be afraid of what such a day should bring forth. + +And yet--and yet--from time to time--and just for a second or so--her +heart seemed to stand still. And she was so silent and preoccupied at +breakfast, that her mother remarked it; and Natalie had to excuse +herself by saying that she was a little tired with the travelling. After +breakfast she led her mother into the reading-room, and said, in rather +an excited way, + +"Now, mother, here is a treat for you; you will get all the English +papers here, and all the news." + +"You forget, Natalie," said her mother, smiling, "that English papers +are not of much use to me." + +"Ah, well, the foreign papers," she said, quickly. "You see, mother, I +want to go along to a chemist's to get some white rose." + +"You should not throw it about the railway carriages so much, +Natalushka," the unsuspecting mother said, reprovingly. "You are +extravagant." + +She did not heed. + +"Perhaps they will have it in Naples. Wait until I come back, mother; I +shall not be long." + +But it was not white-rose scent that was in her mind as she went rapidly +away and got ready to go out; and it was not in search of any chemist's +shop that she made her way to the Via Roma. Why, she had asked herself +that morning, as she stood on the balcony, and drank in the sunlight and +the sweet air, should she take the poor tired mother with her on this +adventure? If there was danger, she would brave it by herself. She +walked quickly--perhaps anxious to make the first plunge. + +She had no difficulty in finding the Vico Carlo, though it was one of +the narrowest and steepest of the small, narrow, and steep lanes leading +off the main thoroughfare into the masses of tall and closely-built +houses on the side of the hill. But when she looked up and recognized +the little plate bearing the name at the corner, she turned a little +pale; something, she knew not what, was now so near. + +And as she turned into this narrow and squalid little alley, it seemed +as if her eyes, through some excitement or other, observed the objects +around her with a strange intensity. She could remember each and every +one of them afterward--the fruit-sellers bawling, and the sellers of +acidulated drinks out-roaring them; the shoemakers already at work at +their open stalls; mules laden with vegetables; a negro monk, with his +black woolly head above the brown hood; a venerable letter-writer at a +small table, spectacles on nose and pen in hand, with two women +whispering to him what he was to write for them. She made her way up the +steep lane, through the busy, motley, malodorous crowd, until she +reached the corner pointed out to her by Calabressa. + +But he had not told her which way to turn, and for a second or two she +stood in the middle of the crossing, uncertain and bewildered. A +brawny-looking fellow, apparently a butcher, addressed her; she +murmured some thanks, and hastily turned away, taking to the right. She +had not gone but a few yards when she saw the entrance to a court which, +at least, was certainly as dark as that described by Calabressa. She was +half afraid that the man who had spoken to her was following her; and +so, without further hesitation, she plunged into this gloomy court-yard, +which was apparently quite deserted. + +She was alone, and she looked around. A second convinced her that she +had hit upon the place, as it were by accident. Over her head swung an +oil-lamp, that threw but the scantiest orange light into the vague +shadows of the place; and in front of her were the open windows of what +was apparently a wine-shop. She did not stay to reflect. Perhaps with +some little tightening of the mouth--unknown to herself--she walked +forward and entered the vaults. + +Here, again, no one was visible; there were rows of tuns, certainly, and +a musty odor in the place, but no sign of any trade or business being +carried on. Suddenly out of the darkness appeared a figure--so suddenly +indeed as to startle her. Had this man been seen in ordinary daylight, +he would no doubt have looked nothing worse than a familiar type of the +fat black-a-vised Italian--not a very comely person, it is true, but not +in any way horrible--but now these dusky shadows lent something +ghoulish-looking to his bushy head and greasy face and sparkling black +eyes. + +"What is the pleasure of the young lady?" he said, curtly. + +Natalie had been startled. + +"I wished to inquire--I wished to mention," she stammered, "one +Bartolotti." + +But at the same time she was conscious of a strange sinking of the +heart. Was this the sort of creature who was expected to save the life +of her lover?--this the sort of man to pit against Ferdinand Lind? Poor +old Calabressa--she thought he meant well, but he boasted, he was +foolish. + +This heavy-faced and heavy-bodied man in the dusk did not reply at once. +He turned aside, saying, + +"Excuse me, signorina, it is dark here; they have neglected to light the +lamps as yet." + +Then, with much composure, he got a lamp, struck a match, and lit it. +The light was not great, but he placed it deliberately so that it shone +on Natalie, and then he calmly investigated her appearance. + +"Yes, signorina, you mentioned one Bartolotti," he remarked, in a more +respectful tone. + +Natalie hesitated. According to Calabressa's account, the mere mention +of the name was to act as a talisman which would work wonders for her. +This obese person merely stood there, awaiting what she should say. + +"Perhaps," she said, in great embarrassment, "you know one Calabressa?" + +"Ah, Calabressa!" he said, and the dull face lighted up with a little +more intelligence. "Yes, of course, one knows Calabressa." + +"He is a friend of mine," she said. "Perhaps, if I could see him, he +would explain to you--" + +"But Calabressa is not here; he is not even in this country, perhaps." + +Then silence. A sort of terror seized her. Was this the end of all her +hopes? Was she to go away thus? Then came a sudden cry, wrung from her +despair. + +"Oh, sir, you must tell me if there is no one who can help me! I have +come to save one who is in trouble, in danger. Calabressa said to me, +'Go to Naples; go to such and such a place; the mere word Bartolotti +will give you powerful friends; count on them; they will not fail one +who belongs to the Berezolyis.' And now--" + +"Your pardon, signorina: have the complaisance to repeat the name." + +"Berezolyi," she answered, quickly; "he said it would be known." + +"I for my part do not know it; but that is of no consequence," said the +man. "I begin to perceive what it is that you demand. It is serious. I +hope my friend Calabressa is justified. I have but to do my duty." + +Then he glanced at the young lady--or, rather, at her costume. + +"The assistance you demand for some one, signorina: is it a sum of +money--is it a reasonable, ordinary sum of money that would be in the +question, perhaps?" + +"Oh no, signore; not at all!" + +"Very well. Then have the kindness to write your name and your address +for me: I will convey your appeal." + +He brought her writing materials; after a moment's consideration she +wrote--"_Natalie Lind, the daughter of Natalie Berezolyi. Hotel ----._" +She handed him the paper. + +"A thousand thanks, signorina. To-day, perhaps to-morrow, you will hear +from the friends of Calabressa. You will be ready to go where they ask +you to go?" + +"Oh yes, yes, sir!" she exclaimed. "How can I thank you?" + +"It is unnecessary," he said, taking the lamp to show her the way more +clearly. "I have the honor to wish you good-morning, signorina." And +again he bowed respectfully. "Your most humble servant, signorina." + +She returned to the hotel, and found that her mother had gone up-stairs +to her own room. + +"Natalushka, you have been away trying to find some one?" + +"Yes, mother," the girl said, rather sadly. + +"Why did you go alone?" + +"I thought I would not tire you, dear mother." + +Then she described all the circumstances of her morning's visit. + +"But why should you be so sad, Natalushka?" the mother said, taking her +daughter's hand; "don't you know that fine palaces may have rusty keys? +Oh, I can reassure you on that point. You will not have to deal with +persons like your friend the wine-merchant--not at all. I know at least +as much as that, child. But you see, they have to guard themselves." + +Natalie would not leave the hotel for a moment. She pretended to read; +but every person who came into the reading-room caused her to look up +with a start of apprehensive inquiry. At last there came a note for her. +She broke open the envelope hurriedly, and found a plain white card, +with these words written on it: + +"_Be at the Villa Odelschalchi, Portici, at four this afternoon._" + +Joy leaped to her face again. + +"Mother, look!" she cried, eagerly. "After all, we may hope." + +"This time you shall not go alone, Natalushka." + +"Why not, mother? I am not afraid." + +"I may be of use to you, child. There may be friends of mine there--who +knows? I am going with you." + +In course of time they hired a carriage, and drove away through the +crowded and gayly-colored city in the glow of the afternoon. But they +had sufficient prudence, before reaching Portici, to descend from the +carriage and proceed on foot. They walked quietly along, apparently not +much interested in what was around them. Presently Natalie pressed her +mother's arm, they were opposite the Villa Odelschalchi--there was the +name on the flat pillars by the gate. + +This great plain building, which might have been called a palazzo rather +than a villa, seemed, on the side fronting the street, to be entirely +closed--all the casements of the windows being shut. But when they +crossed to the gate, and pulled the big iron handle that set a bell +ringing, a porter appeared--a big, indolent-looking man, who regarded +them calmly, to see which would speak first. + +Natalie simply produced the card that had been sent to her. + +"This is the Villa Odelschalchi, I perceive," she said. + +"Oh, it is you, then, signorina?" the porter said, with great respect. +"Yes, there was one lady to come here at four o'clock--" + +"But the signora is my mother," said Natalie, perhaps with a trifle of +impatience. + +The man hesitated for a moment, but by this time Natalie, accompanied by +her mother, had passed through the cool gray archway into the spacious +tessellated court, from which rose on each hand a wide marble staircase. + +"Will the signorina and the signora her mother condescend to follow me?" +the porter said, leading the way up one of the staircases, the big iron +keys still in his hand. + +They were shown into an antechamber, but scantily furnished, and the +porter disappeared. In a minute or two there came into the room a small, +sallow-complexioned man, who was no other than the Secretary Granaglia. +He bowed, and, as he did so, glanced from the one to the other of the +visitors with scrutiny. + +"It is no doubt correct, signorina," said he, addressing himself to +Natalie, "that you have brought the signora your mother with you. We had +thought you were alone, from the message we received. No matter; +only"--and here he turned to Natalie's mother--"only, signora, you will +renew your acquaintance with one who wishes to be known by the name of +Von Zoesch. I have no doubt the signora understands." + +"Oh, perfectly, perfectly!" said the elder woman: she had been familiar +with these prudent changes of name all her life. + +The Secretary Granaglia bowed and retired. + +"It is some one who knows you, mother?" Natalie said, breathlessly. + +"Oh, I hope so!" the other answered. She was a little pale, and her +fingers were tightly clasped. + +Then a heavier step was heard in the empty corridors outside. The door +was opened; there appeared a tall and soldierly-looking man, about six +feet three in height and perfectly erect, with closely-cropped white +hair, a long white mustache, a reddish face, and clear, piercing, +light-blue eyes. The moment the elder woman saw him she uttered a slight +cry--of joy, it seemed, and surprise--and sprung to her feet. + +"Stefan!" + +"Natalie!" he exclaimed, in turn with an almost boyish laugh of +pleasure, and he came forward to her with both hands outstretched, and +took hers. "Why, what good wind has brought you to this country? But I +beg a thousand pardons--" + +He turned and glanced at Natalie. + +"My child," she said, "let me present you to my old friend, General--" + +"Von Zoesch," he interrupted, and he took Natalie's hand at the same +time. "What, you are the young lady, then, who bearded the lion in his +den this morning?--and you were not afraid? No, I can see you are a +Berezolyi; if you were a man you would be forever getting yourself and +your friends into scrapes, and risking your neck to get them out again. +A Berezolyi, truly! 'The more beautiful daughter of a beautiful mother!' +But the little scamp knew his insulting iambics were only fit to be +thrown into the fire when he made that unjust comparison. Ah, you young +people have fresh complexions and bright eyes on your side, but we old +people prefer our old friends." + +"I hope so, sir," said Natalie, with her eyes bent down. + +"And had your father no other messenger that he must employ you?" said +this erect, white-haired giant, who regarded her in a kindly way; "or is +it that feather-brained fellow Calabressa who has got you to intercede +for him? Rest assured. Calabressa will soon be in imminent peril of +being laid by the heels, and he is therefore supremely happy." + +Before the girl could speak he had turned to the mother. + +"Come, my old friend, shall we go out into the garden? I am sorry the +reception-rooms in the villa are all dismantled; in truth, we are only +temporary lodgers. And I have a great many questions to ask you about +old friends, particularly your father." + +"Stefan, can you not understand why I have permitted myself to leave +Hungary?" + +He glanced at her deep mourning. + +"Ah, is that so? Well, no one ever lived a braver life. And how he kept +up the old Hungarian traditions!--the house a hotel from month's end to +month's end: no questions asked but 'Are you a stranger? then my house +is yours.'" + +He led the way down the stairs, chatting to this old friend of his; and +though Natalie was burning with impatience, she forced herself to be +silent. Was it not all in her favor that this member of the mysterious +Council should recur to these former days, and remind himself of his +intimacy with her family? She followed them in silence: he seemed to +have forgotten her existence. + +They passed through the court-yard, and down some broad steps. The true +front of the building was on this seaward side--a huge mass of pink, +with green casements. From the broad stone steps a series of terraces, +prettily laid out, descended to a lawn; but, instead of passing down +that way, the tall, soldierly-looking man led his companion by a +side-flight of steps, which enabled them to enter an _allee_ cut through +a mass of olives and orange and lemon trees. There were fig-trees along +the wall by the side of this path; a fountain plashed coolly out there +on the lawn, and beyond the opening showed the deep blue of the sea, +with the clear waves breaking whitely on the shores. + +They sat down on a garden-seat; and Natalie, sitting next her mother, +waited patiently and breathlessly, scarcely hearing all this talk about +old companions and friends. + +At last the general said, + +"Now about the business that brought you here: is it serious?" + +"Oh yes, very," the mother said, with some color of excitement appearing +in her worn face; "it is a friend of ours in England: he has been +charged by the Society with some duty that will cost him his life; we +have come to intercede for him--to ask you to save him. For the sake of +old times, Stefan--" + +"Wait a moment," said the other, looking grave. "Do you mean the +Englishman?" + +"Yes, yes; the same." + +"And who has told you what it is purposed to have done?" he asked, with +quite a change in his manner. + +"No one," she answered, eagerly; "we guess that it is something of great +danger." + +"And if that is so, are you unfamiliar with persons having to incur +danger? Why not an Englishman as well as another? This is an +extraordinary freak of yours, Natalie; I cannot understand it. And to +have come so far when any one in England--any one of us, I mean--could +have told you it was useless." + +"But why useless, if you are inclined to interfere?" she said, boldly, +"and I think my father's family have some title to consideration." + +"My old friend," said he, in a kindly way, "what is there in the world I +would not do for you if it were within my power? But this is not. What +you ask is, to put the matter shortly, impossible--impossible!" + +In the brief silence that followed the mother heard a slight sigh: she +turned instantly, and saw her daughter, as white as death, about to +fall. She caught her in her arms with a slight cry of alarm. + +"Here, Stefan, take my handkerchief--dip it in the water--quick!" + +The huge, bullet-headed man strode across the lawn to the fountain. As +he returned, and saw before him the white-lipped, unconscious girl, who +was supported in her mother's arms, he said to himself, "Now I +understand." + + + + +CHAPTER XLVIII. + +AN APPEAL. + + +This sudden and involuntary confession of alarm and despair no doubt +told her story more clearly than anything else could have done. General +von Zoesch as he chose to call himself, was excessively concerned; he +held her hand till he saw the life returning to the pale, beautiful +face: he was profuse and earnest in his apologies. + +"My dear young lady I beg a thousand pardons!--I had no idea of alarming +you; I had no idea you were so deeply interested; come, take my arm, and +we will walk down into the open, where the sea-air is cool. I beg a +thousand pardons." + +She had pulled herself together with a desperate effort of will. + +"You spoke abruptly, signore; you used the word _impossible_! I had +imagined it was unknown to you." + +Her lips were rather pale; but there was a flush of color returning to +her face, and her voice had something of the old proud and pathetic ring +in it. + +"Yes," she continued, standing-before him, with her eyes downcast, "I +was told that when great trouble came upon me or mine I was to come +here--to Naples--and I should find myself under the protection of the +greatest power in Europe. My name--my mother's name--was to be enough. +And this is the result, that a brave man, who is our friend and dear to +us, is threatened with a dishonorable death, and the very power that +imposed it on him--the power that was said to be invincible, and wise, +and generous--is unable or unwilling to stir hand or foot!" + +"A dishonorable death, signorina?" + +"Oh, signore," she said, with a proud indignation, "do not speak to me +as if I were a child. Cannot one see what is behind all this secrecy? +Cannot one see that you know well what has been done in England by your +friends and colleagues? You put this man, who is too proud, too noble, +to withdraw from his word, on a service that involves the certain +sacrifice of his life! and there is no honor attached to this +sacrifice--so he himself has admitted. What does that mean?--what can it +mean--but assassination?" + +He drew back his head a little bit, as if startled, and stared at her. + +"My dear young lady--" + +But her courage had not returned to her for nothing. She raised the +beautiful, dark, pathetic eyes, and regarded him with an indignant +fearlessness. + +"That is what any one might guess," she said. "But there is more. +Signore, you and your friends meditate the assassination of the King of +Italy! and you call on an Englishman--an Englishman who has no love of +secret and blood-stained ways--" + +"Stefan!" the mother cried, quickly, and she placed her hand on the +general's arm; "do not be angry. Do not heed her--she is a child--she is +quick to speak. Believe me, there are other reasons for our coming to +you." + +"Yes, yes, my friend Natalie; all in good time. But I am most anxious to +put myself right with the signorina your daughter first of all. Now, my +dear young lady," he said, taking her hand, and putting it on his arm, +and gently compelling her to walk with him toward the opener space where +the sea-air was cool, "I again apologize to you for having spoken +unwittingly--" + +"Oh, signore, do not trouble about that! It is no matter of courtesy or +politeness that is in the question: it is the life of one of one's +dearest friends. There are other times for politeness." + +"Stefan," the mother interposed, anxiously, "do not heed her--she is +agitated." + +"My dear Natalie," said the general, smiling, "I admire a brave woman +as I admire a brave man. Do not I recognize another of you Berezolyis? +The moment you think one of your friends is being wronged, fire and +water won't prevent you from speaking out. No, no, my dear young lady," +he said, turning to the daughter, "you cannot offend me by being loyal +and outspoken." + +He patted her hand, just as Calabressa had done. + +"But I must ask you to listen for a moment, to remove one or two +misconceptions. It is true I know something of the service which your +English friend has undertaken to perform. Believe me, it has nothing to +do with the assassination of the King of Italy--nothing in the world." + +She lifted her dark eyes for a second, and regarded him steadily. + +"I perceive," said he, "that you pay me the compliment of asking me if I +lie. I do not. Reassure yourself: there are no people in this country +more loyal to the present dynasty than my friends and myself. We have no +time for wild Republican projects." + +She looked somewhat bewildered. This speculation as to the possible +nature of the service demanded of George Brand had been the outcome of +many a night's anxious self-communing; and she had indulged in the wild +hope that this man, when abruptly challenged, might have been startled +into some avowal. For then, would not her course have been clear enough? +But now she was thrown back on her former perplexity, with only the one +certainty present to her mind--the certainty of the danger that +confronted her lover. + +"My dear young lady," he said, "it is useless for you to ask what that +service is, for I shall refuse to answer you. But I assure you that you +have my deepest sympathy, and I have seen a good deal of suffering from +similar causes. I do not seek to break into your confidence, but I think +I understand your position; you will believe me that it is with no light +heart that I must repeat the word _impossible_. Need I reason with you? +Need I point out to you that there is scarcely any one in the world whom +we might select for a dangerous duty who would not have some one who +would suffer on his account? Who is without some tie of affection that +must be cut asunder--no matter with what pain--when the necessity for +the sacrifice arises? You are one of the unhappy ones; you must be +brave; you must try to forget your sufferings, as thousands of wives and +sweethearts and daughters have had to forget, in thinking that their +relatives and friends died in a good cause." + +Her heart was proud and indignant no longer; it had grown numbed. The +air from the sea felt cold. + +"I am helpless, signore," she murmured; "I do not know what the cause +is. I do not know what justification you have for taking this man's +life." + +He did not answer that. He said, + +"Perhaps, indeed, it is not those who are called on to sacrifice their +life for the general good who suffer most. They can console themselves +with thinking of the result. It is their friends--those dearest to +them--who suffer, and who many a time would no doubt be glad to become +their substitutes. It is true that we--that is, that many +associations--recognize the principle of the vicarious performance of +duties and punishments; but not any one yet has permitted a woman to +become substitute for a man." + +"What made you think of that, signore?" she asked, regarding him. + +"I have known some cases," he said, evasively, "where such an offer, I +think, would have been made." + +"It could not be accepted?" + +"Oh no." + +"Not even by the power that is the greatest in Europe?" she said, +bitterly--"that is invincible and all-generous? Oh, signore, you are too +modest in your pretensions! And the Berezolyis--they have done nothing, +then, in former days to entitle them to consideration; they are but as +anybody in the crowd who might come forward and intercede for a friend; +they have no old associates, then, and companions in this Society, that +they cannot have this one thing granted them--that they cannot get this +one man's life spared to him! Signore, your representatives mistake your +powers; more than that, they mistake the strength of your memory, and +your friendship!" + +The red face of the bullet-headed general grew redder still, but not +with anger. + +"Signorina," he said, evidently greatly embarrassed, "you humiliate me. +You--you do not know what you ask--" + +He had led her back to the garden-seat; they had both sat down; he did +not notice how her bosom was struggling with emotion. + +"You ask me to interfere--to commit an act of injustice--" + +"Oh, signore, signore, this is what I ask!" she cried, quite overcome; +and she fell at his feet, and put her clasped hands on his knees, and +broke into a wild fit of crying; "this is what I ask of you, +signore--this is what I beg from you on my knees--I ask you to give me +the life of--of my betrothed!" + +She buried her face in her hands; her frame was shaken with her sobs. + +"Little daughter," said he, greatly agitated, "rise; come, remain here +for a few moments; I wish to speak to your mother--alone. Natalie!" + +The elder woman accompanied him a short distance across the lawn; they +stood by the fountain. + +"By Heaven, I would do anything for the child!" he said, rapidly; "but +you see, dear friend, how it is impossible. Look at the injustice of it. +If we transferred this duty to another person, what possible excuse +could we make to him whom we might choose?" + +He was looking back at the girl. + +"It will kill her, Stefan," the mother said. + +"Others have suffered also." + +The elder woman seemed to collect herself a little. + +"But I told you we had not said everything to you. The poor child is in +despair; she has not thought of all the reasons that induced us to come +to you. Stefan, you remember my cousin Konrad?" + +"Oh yes, I remember Konrad well enough," said the general, absently, for +he was still regarding the younger Natalie, who sat on the bench, her +hands clasped, her head bent down. "Poor fellow, he came to a sad end at +last; but he always carried his life in his hands, and with a gay heart +too." + +"But you remember, do you not, something before that?" the mother said, +with some color coming into her face. "You remember how my husband had +him chosen--and I myself appealed--and you, Stefan, you were among the +first to say that the Society must inquire--" + +"Ah, but that was different, Natalie. You know why it was that that +commission had to be reversed." + +"Do I know? Yes. What else have I had to think about these sixteen or +seventeen years since my child was separated from me?" she said, sadly. +"And perhaps I have grown suspicious; perhaps I have grown mad to think +that what has happened once might happen again." + +"What?" he said, turning his clear blue eyes suddenly on her. + +She did not flinch. + +"Consider the circumstances, Stefan, and say whether one has no reason +to suspect. The Englishman, this Mr. Brand, loves Natalie; she loves him +in return; my husband refuses his consent to the marriage; and yet they +meet in opposition to his wishes. Then there is another thing that I +cannot so well explain, but it is something about a request on my +husband's part that Mr. Brand, who is a man of wealth, should accept a +certain offer, and give over his property to the funds of the Society." + +"I understand perfectly," her companion said, calmly. "Well?" + +"Well, Mr. Brand, thinking of Natalie's future, refuses. But consider +this, Stefan, that it had been hinted to him before that in case of his +refusal, he might be sent to America to remain there for life." + +"I perceive, my old friend, that you are reading in your own +interpretations into an ordinary matter of business. However--" + +"But his refusal was immediately followed by that arrangement. He was +ordered to go to America. My husband, no doubt considered that that +would effectually separate him and Natalie--" + +"Again you are putting in your own interpretation." + +"One moment, Stefan. My child is brave; she thought an injustice was +being done; she thought it was for her sake that her lover was being +sent away, and then she spoke frankly; she said she would go with him." + +"Yes?" He was now listening with more interest. + +"You perceive then, my dear friend, my husband was thwarted in every +way. Then it was, and quite suddenly, that he reversed this arrangement +about America, and there fell on Mr. Brand this terrible thing. Knowing +what I know, do you not think I had fair cause for suspicion? And when +Natalie said, 'Oh, there are those abroad who will remove this great +trouble from us,' then I said to myself, 'At all events, the Society +does not countenance injustice; it will see that right has been done.'" + +The face of the man had grown grave, and for some time he did not speak. + +"I see what you suggest, Natalie," he said at length. "It is a serious +matter. I should have said your suspicions were idle--that the thing was +impossible--but for the fact that it has occurred before. Strange, now, +if old ----, whose wisdom and foresight the world is beginning to +recognize now, should be proved to be wise on this point too, as on so +many others. He used always to say to us: 'When once you find a man +unfaithful, never trust him after. When once a man has allowed himself +to put his personal advantage before his duty to such a society as +yours, it shows that somewhere or other there is in him the leaven of a +self-seeker, which is fatal to all societies. Impose the heaviest +penalties on such an offence; cast him out when you have the +opportunity.' It would be strange, indeed; it would be like fate; it +would appear as though the thing were in the blood, and must come out, +no matter what warning the man may have had before. You know, Natalie, +what your husband had to endure for his former lapse?" + +She nodded her head. + +For some time he was again silent, and there was a deeper air of +reflection on his face than almost seemed natural to it, for he looked +more of a soldier than a thinker. + +"If there were any formality," he said, almost to himself, "in the +proceedings, one might have just cause to intervene. But your husband, +my Natalie," he continued, addressing her directly, "is well trusted by +us. He has done us long and faithful service. We should be slow to put +any slight upon him, especially that of suspicion." + +"That, Stefan," said Natalie's mother, with courage, "is a small matter, +surely, compared with the possibility of your letting this man go to his +death unjustly. You would countenance, then, an act of private revenge? +That is the use you would let the powers of your Society be put to? That +is not what Janecki, what Rausch, what Falevitch looked forward to." + +The taunt was quite lost on him; he was calmly regarding Natalie. She +had not stirred. After that one outburst of despairing appeal there was +no more for her to say or to do. She could wait, mutely, and hear what +the fate of her lover was to be. + +"Unfortunately," said the general, turning and looking up at the vast +pink frontage of the villa, "There are no papers here that one can +appeal to. I only secured the temporary use of the villa, as being a +more fitting place than some to receive the signorina your daughter. But +it is possible the Secretary may remember something; he has a good +memory. Will you excuse me, Natalie, for a few moments?" + +He strode away toward the house. The mother went over to her daughter, +and put a hand on her shoulder. + +"Courage, Natalushka! You must not despair yet. Ah, my old friend Stefan +has a kind heart; there were tears in his eyes when he turned away from +your appeal to him. He does not forget old associates." + +Von Zoesch almost immediately returned, still looking preoccupied. He +drew Natalie's mother aside a few steps, and said, + +"This much I may tell you, Natalie: in the proceedings four were +concerned--your husband, Mr. Brand, Beratinsky, Reitzei. What do you +know of these last two?" + +"I? Alas, Stefan, I know nothing of them!" + +"And we here little. They are your husband's appointment. I may also +tell you, Natalie, that the Secretary is also of my opinion, that it is +very unlikely your husband would be so audacious as to repeat his +offence of former years, by conspiring to fix this duty on this man to +serve his own interests. It would be too audacious, unless his temper +had outrun his reason altogether." + +"But you must remember, Stefan," she said, eagerly, "that there was no +one in England who knew that former story. He could not imagine that I +was to be, unhappily, set free to go to my daughter--that I should be at +her side when this trouble fell on her--" + +"Nevertheless," said he, gently interrupting her, "you have appealed to +us: we will inquire. It will be a delicate affair. If there has been any +complicity, any unfairness, to summon these men hither would be to make +firmer confederates of them than ever. If one could get at them +separately, individually--" + +He kept pressing his white mustache into his teeth with his forefinger. + +"If Calabressa were not such a talker," he said, absently. "But he has +ingenuity, the feather-brained devil." + +"Stefan, I could trust everything to Calabressa," she said. + +"In the mean time," he said, "I will not detain you. If you remain at +the same hotel we shall be able to communicate with you. I presume your +carriage is outside?" + +"It is waiting for us a little way off." + +He accompanied them into the tessellated court-yard, but not to the +gate. He bade good-bye to his elder friend; then he took the younger +lady's hand and held it, and regarded her. + +"Figliuola mia," he said, with a kindly glance, "I pity you if you have +to suffer. We will hope for better things: if it is impossible, you have +a brave heart." + +When they had left he went up the marble staircase and along the empty +corridor until he reached a certain room. + +"Granaglia, can you tell me where our friend Calabressa may happen to be +at this precise moment?" + +"At Brindisi, I believe, Excellenza." + +"At Brindisi still. The devil of a fellow is not so impatient as I had +expected. Ah, well. Have the goodness to send for him, friend Granaglia, +and bid him come with speed." + +"Most willingly, Excellenza." + + + + +CHAPTER XLIX. + +AN EMISSARY. + + +One warm, still afternoon Calabressa was walking quickly along the +crowded quays of Naples, when he was beset by a more than usually +importunate beggar--a youth of about twelve, almost naked. + +"Something for bread, signore--for the love of God--my father taken to +heaven, my mother starving--bread, signore--" + +"To the devil with you!" said Calabressa. + +"May you burst!" replied the polite youth, and he tried to kick +Calabressa's legs and make off at the same time. + +This feat he failed in, so that, as he was departing, Calabressa hit him +a cuff on the side of the head which sent him rolling. Then there was a +howl, and presently there was a universal tumult of women, calling out, +"Ah, the German! ah, the foreigner!" and so forth, and drawing +threateningly near. Calabressa sought in his pockets for a handful of +small copper coins, turned, threw them high in the air, and did not stay +to watch the effect of the shower on the heads of the women, but walked +quietly away. + +However, in thus suddenly turning, he had caught sight--even with his +near-sighted eyes--of an unwholesome-looking young man, pale, +clean-shaven, with bushy black hair, whom he recognized. He appeared to +pay no attention, but walked quickly on. Taking one or two unnecessary +turnings, he became convinced that the young man, as he had suspected, +was following him: then, without more ado, and even without looking +behind him, he set out for his destination, which was Posilipo. + +In due course of time he began to ascend the wooded hill with its villas +and walls and cactus-hedges. At a certain turning, where he could not be +observed by any one behind him, he turned sharp off to the left, and +stood behind a wooden gate; a couple of minutes afterward the young man +came along, more rapidly now, for he no doubt fancied that Calabressa +had disappeared ahead. + +Calabressa stepped out from his hiding-place, went after him, and tapped +him on the shoulder. He turned, stared, and endeavored to appear angry +and astonished. + +"Oh yes, to be sure," said Calabressa, with calm sarcasm, "at your +disposition, signore. So we were not satisfied with selling photographs +and pebbles to the English on board the steamer; we want to get a little +Judas money; we sell ourselves to the weasels, the worms, the vermin--" + +"Oh, I assure you, signore--" the shaven-faced youth exclaimed, much +more humbly. + +"Oh, I assure you too, signore," Calabressa continued, facetiously. "And +you, you poor innocent, you have not been with the weasels six weeks +when you think you will try your nose in tracking me. Body of Bacchus, +it is too insolent!" + +"I assure you, signore--" + +"Now, behold this, my friend: we must give children like you a warning. +If you had been a little older, and not quite so foolish, I should have +had you put on the Black List of my friends the Camorristi--you +understand? But you--we will cure you otherwise. You know the +Englishman's yacht that has come into the Great Harbor--" + +"Signore, I beg of you--" + +"Beg of the devil!" said Calabressa, calmly. "Between the Englishman's +yacht and the Little Mole you will find a schooner moored--her name. _La +Svezia_; do not forget--_La Svezia_. To-morrow you will go on board of +her, ask for the captain, go down below, and beg him to be so kind as to +give you twelve stripes--" + +"Signore--" + +"Another word, _mouchard_, and I make it twenty. He will give you a +receipt, which you will sign, and bring to me; otherwise, down goes your +name on the list. Which do you prefer? Oh, we will teach some of you +young weasels a lesson! I have the honor to wish you a good morning." + +Calabressa touched his hat politely, and walked on, leaving the young +man petrified with rage and fear. + +By-and-by he began to walk more leisurely and with more circumspection, +keeping a sharp lookout, as well as his near-sighted eyes allowed, on +any passer-by or vehicle he happened to meet. At length, and with the +same precautions he had used on a former occasion, he entered the +grounds of the villa he had sought out in the company of Gathorne +Edwards, and made his way up to the fountain on the little plateau. But +now his message had been previously prepared; he dropped it into the +receptacle concealed beneath the lip of the fountain, and then descended +the steep little terraces until he got round to the entrance of the +grotto. + +Instead of passing in by this cleft in the rockwork, however, he found +awaiting him there the person who had summoned him--the so-called +General Von Zoesch. Calabressa was somewhat startled, but he said, "Your +humble servant, Excellenza," and removed his cap. + +"Keep your hat on your head, friend Calabressa," said the other, +good-naturedly; "you are as old as I am." + +He seated himself on a projecting ledge of the rockwork, and motioned to +Calabressa to do likewise on the other side of the entrance. They were +completely screened from observation by a mass of olive and fig trees, +to say nothing of the far-stretching orange shrubbery beyond. + +"The Council have paid you a high compliment, my Calabressa," the +general said, plunging at once into the matter. "They have resolved to +intrust you with a very difficult mission." + +"It is a great honor." + +"You won't have to risk your neck, which will no doubt disappoint you, +but you will have to show us whether there is the stuff of a diplomatist +in you." + +"Oh, as for that, Excellenza," Calabressa said confidently, "one can be +a _bavard_ at times, for amusement, for nonsense; and one can at times +be silent when there is necessity." + +"You know of the affair of Zaccatelli. The agent has been found, as we +desired in England. I understand you know him; his name is Brand." + +Calabressa uttered an exclamation. + +"Excellenza, do you know what you have said? You pierce my heart. Why he +of all those in England? He is the betrothed of Natalie's daughter--the +Natalie Berezolyi, Excellenza, who married Ferdinand Lind--" + +"I know it," said the other, calmly. "I have seen the young lady. She is +a beautiful child." + +"She is more than that--she is a beautiful-souled child!" said +Calabressa, in great agitation, "and she has a tender heart. I tell you +it will kill her, Excellenza! Oh, it is infamous! it is not to be +thought of!" He jumped to his feet and spoke in a rapid, excited way. "I +say it is not to be thought of. I appeal--I, Calabressa--to the +honorable the members of the Council: I say that I am ready to be his +substitute--they cannot deny me--I appeal to the laws of the +Society--"' + +"Calm yourself--calm yourself," said the general; but Calabressa would +not be calm. + +"I will not have my beautiful child have this grief put upon her!--you, +Excellenza, will help my appeal to the Council--they cannot refuse +me--what use am I to anybody or myself? I say that the daughter of my +old friend Natalie shall not have her lover taken from her; it is I, +Calabressa, who claim to be his substitute!" + +"Friend Calabressa, I desire you to sit down and listen. The story is +brief that I have to tell you. This man Brand is chosen by the usual +ballot. The young lady does not know for what duty, of course, but +believes it will cost him his life. She is in trouble; she recollects +your giving her some instructions; what does she do but start off at +once for Naples, to put her head right into the den of the black bear +Tommaso!" + +"Ah, the brave little one! She did not forget Calabressa and the little +map, then?" + +"I have seen her and her mother." + +"Her mother, also? Here, in Naples, now?" + +"Yes." + +"Great Heaven! What a fool I was to come through Naples and not to +know--but I was thinking of that little viper." + +"You will now be good enough to listen, my Calabressa." + +"I beg your Excellency's pardon a thousand times." + +"It appears that both mother and daughter are beset with the suspicion +that this duty has been put upon their English friend by unfair means. +At first I said to myself these suspicions were foolish; they now appear +to me more reasonable. You, at all events, are acquainted with the old +story against Ferdinand Lind; you know how he forfeited his life to the +Society; how it was given back to him. You would think it impossible he +would risk such another adventure. Well, perhaps I wrong him; but there +is a possibility; there are powerful reasons, I can gather, why he +should wish to get rid of this Englishman." + +Calabressa said nothing now, but he was greatly excited. + +"We had been urging him about money, Calabressa mio--that I will explain +to you. It has been coming in slowest of all from England, the richest +of the countries, and just when we had so much need. Then, again, there +is a vacancy in the Council, and Lind has a wish that way. What happens? +He tries to induce the Englishman to take an officership and give us +his fortune; the Englishman refuses; he says then, 'Part from my +daughter, and go to America.' The daughter says, 'If he goes, I follow.' +You perceive, my friend, that if this story is true, and it is +consecutive and minute as I received it, there was a reason for our +colleague Lind to be angry, and to be desirous of making it certain that +this Englishman who had opposed him should not have his daughter." + +"I perceive it well, Excellenza. Meanwhile?" + +"Meanwhile, that is all. Only, when an old friend--when one who has such +claims on our Society as a Berezolyi naturally has--comes and tells you +such a story, you listen with attention and respect. You may believe, or +you may not believe; one prefers not to believe when the matter touches +upon the faith of a colleague who has been trustworthy for many years. +But at the same time, if the Council, being appealed to, and being +anxious above all things that no wrong should be done, were to find an +agent--prudent, silent, cautious--who might be armed with plenary powers +of pardon, for example, supposing there were an accomplice to be +bribed--if the Council were to commission such a one as you, my +Calabressa, to institute inquiries, and perhaps to satisfy those two +appellants that no injustice has been done, you would undertake the task +with diligence, with a sense of responsibility, would you not?" + +"With joy--with a full heart, Excellenza!" Calabressa exclaimed. + +"Oh no, not at all--with prudence and disinterestedness; with calmness +and no prejudice; and, above all, with a resolution to conceal from our +friend and colleague Lind that any slight of suspicion is being put upon +him." + +"Oh, you can trust me, Excellenza!" Calabressa said, eagerly. + +"Let me do this for the sake of the sweetheart of my old age--that is +that beautiful-souled little one; and if I cannot bring her peace and +security one way--mind, I go without prejudice--I swear to you I go +without bias--I will harm no one even in intention--but this I say, that +if I fail that way there is another." + +"You have seen the two men, Beratinsky and Reitzei, who were of the +ballot along with Lind and the Englishman. To me they are but names. +Describe them to me." + +"Beratinsky," said Calabressa, promptly, "a bear--surly, pig-headed; +Reitzei, a fop--sinuous, petted." + +"Which would be the more easily started, for example?" the tall man +said, with a smile. + +"Oh, your Excellency, leave that to me," Calabressa answered. "Give me +no definite instructions: am I not a volunteer?--can I not do as I +please, always with the risk that one may knock me over the head if I am +impertinent?" + +"Well, then, if you leave it to your discretion, friend Calabressa, to +your ingenuity, and your desire to have justice without bias, have you +money?" + +"Not at all, Excellenza." + +"The Secretary Granaglia will communicate with you this evening. You can +start at once?" + +"By the direct train to-morrow morning at seven. Excellenza." Then he +added, "Oh, the devil!" + +"What now?" + +"There was a young fellow, Excellenza, committed the imprudence of +dogging my footsteps this afternoon. I know him. I stopped him and +referred him to the captain of the schooner _La Svezia_: he was to bring +me the receipt to morrow." + +"Never mind," said the general, laughing; "we will look after him when +he goes on board. Now do you understand, friend Calabressa, the great +delicacy of the mission the Council have intrusted to you? You must be +patient, sure, unbiassed; and if, as I imagine, Lind and you were not +the best of friends at one time in your life, you must forget all that. +You are not going as the avenger of his daughter; you are going as the +minister of justice--only you have power behind you; that you can allow +to be known indirectly. Do you understand?" + +"It is as clear as the noonday skies. Confide in me, Excellenza." The +other rose. + +"Use speed, my Calabressa. Farewell!" + +"One word, Excellenza. If it is not too great a favor, the hotel where +my beautiful Natalushka and her mother are staying?" + +The other gave him the name of the hotel; and Calabressa, saluting him +respectfully, departed, making his way down through the terraces of +fruit-trees under the clear twilight skies. + +Calabressa walked back to Naples, and to the hotel indicated, which was +near the Castello dell' Ovo. No sooner had the hotel porter opened for +him the big swinging doors than he recollected that he did not know for +whom he ought to ask; but at this moment Natalie came along the +corridor, dressed and ready to go out. + +"My little daughter!" he exclaimed, taking her by both hands, "did not +I say you would soon find me when there was need?" + +"Will you come up-stairs and see my mother, Signor Calabressa?" said +she. "You know why she and I are together now?--my grandfather is dead." + +"Yes, I will go and see your mother," said he, after a second: she did +not notice the strange expression of his face during that brief +hesitation. + +There was a small sitting-room between the two bedrooms; Natalie +conducted him into it, and went into the adjoining chamber for her +mother. A minute after these two friends and companions of former days +met. They held each other's hand in silence for a brief time. + +"My hair was not so gray when you last saw me," the worn-faced woman +said, at length, with a smile. + +Calabressa could not speak at all. + +"Mother," the girl said, to break in on this painful embarrassment, "you +have not seen Signor Calabressa for so long a time. Will he not stay and +dine with us? the _table-d'hote_, is at half-past six." + +"Not the _table-d'hote_, my little daughter," Calabressa said. "But if +one were permitted to remain here, for example--" + +"Oh yes, certainly." + +"There are many things I wish to speak about; and so little time. +To-morrow morning I start for England." + +"For England?" + +"Most certainly, little daughter. And you have a message, perhaps, for +me to carry? Oh, you may let it be cheerful," he said, with his usual +gay optimism. "I tell you--I myself, and I do not boast--let it be +cheerful! What did I say to you? You are in trouble; I said to you, +count upon having friends!" + +Calabressa did stay; and they had a kind of meal in this room; and there +was a great deal to talk over between the two old friends. But on all +matters referring to the moment he preserved a resolute silence. He was +not going to talk at the very outset. He was going to England--that was +all. + +But as he was bidding good-bye to Natalie, he drew her a step or two +into the passage. + +"Little child," said he, in a low voice, "your mother is suffering +because of your sorrow. It is needless. I assure you all will be well: +have I spoken in vain before? It is not for one bearing the name that +you have to despair." + +"Good-bye, then, Signor Calabressa." + +"_Au revoir_, child: is not that better?" + + + + +CHAPTER L. + +A WEAK BROTHER. + + +George Brand was sitting alone in these rooms of his, the lamps lit, the +table near him covered with papers. He had just parted with two +visitors--Molyneux and a certain learned gentleman attached to Owens +College--who had come to receive his final plans and hints as to what +still lay before them in the north. On leaving, the fresh-colored, +brisk-voiced Molyneux had said to him, + +"Well, Mr. Brand, seeing you so eager about what has to be done up +there, one might wonder at your leaving us and going off pleasuring. But +no matter; a man must have his holiday; so I wish you a pleasant +journey, and we'll do our best till you come back." + +So that also was settled. In fact, he had brought all his affairs up to +a point that would enable him to start at any moment. But about Natalie? +He had not heard from her through any channel whatever. He had not the +least idea whither she had gone. Moreover, he gathered from Reitzei that +her father--who, in Reitzei's opinion, could at once have discovered +where she was--refused to trouble himself in the matter, and, indeed, +would not permit her name to be mentioned in his presence. + +He leaned back in his chair with a sigh. Of what value to him now were +these carefully calculated suggestions about districts, centres, +conveners, and what not? And yet he had appeared deeply interested while +his two visitors were present. For the time being the old eagerness had +stirred him; the pride he had taken in his own work. But now that was +passed from him; he had relinquished his stewardship; and as he absently +gazed out into the black night before him, his thoughts drifted far +away. He was startled from his reverie by some one knocking at the door. +Immediately after Gathorne Edwards entered. + +"Waters said I should find you alone," said the tall, pale, blue-eyed +student. "I have come to you about Kirski." + +"Sit down. Well?" + +"It's a bad business," he said, taking a chair, and looking rather +gloomy and uncomfortable. "He has taken to drink badly. I have been to +him, talked to him, but I have no influence over him, apparently. I +thought perhaps you might do something with him." + +"Why, I cannot even speak to him!" + +"Oh, he is accustomed to make much out of a few words; and I would go +with you." + +"But what is the occasion of all this? How can he have taken to drink in +so short a time?" + +"A man can drink himself into a pretty queer state in a very short time +when he sets his mind to it," Edwards said. "He has given up his work +altogether, and is steadily boozing away the little savings he had made. +He has gone back to his blood and kill, too; wants some one to go with +him to murder that fellow out in Russia who first of all took his wife, +and then beat him and set dogs on him. The fact is, Calabressa's cure +has gone all to bits." + +"It is a pity. The unfortunate wretch has had enough trouble. But what +is the cause of it?" + +"It is rather difficult to explain," said Edwards with some +embarrassment. "One can only guess, for his brain is muddled, and he +maunders. You know Calabressa's flowery, poetical interpretation. It was +Miss Lind, in fact, who had worked a miracle. Well, there was something +in it. She was kind to him, after he had been cuffed about Europe, and a +sort of passion of gratitude took possession of him. Then he was led to +believe at that time that--that he might be of service to her or her +friends, and he gave up his projects of revenge altogether--he was ready +for any sacrifice--and, in fact, there was a project--" Edwards glanced +at his companion; but Brand happened at that moment to be looking out of +the window. + +"Well, you see, all that fell through; and he had to come back to +England disappointed; then there was no Calabressa to keep him up to his +resolutions: besides that, he found out--how, I do not know--that Miss +Lind had left London." + +"Oh, he found that out?" + +"Apparently. And he says he is of no further use to anybody; and all he +wants is to kill the man Michaieloff, and then make an end of himself." + +Brand rose at once. + +"We must go and see the unfortunate devil, Edwards. His brain never was +steady, you know, and I suppose even two or three days' hard drinking +has made him wild again. And just as I had prepared a little surprise +for him!" + +"What?" Edwards asked, as he opened the door. + +"I have made him a little bequest that would have produced him about +twenty pounds a year, to pay his rent. It will be no kindness to give it +to him until we see him straight again." + +But Edwards pushed the door to again, and said in a low voice, + +"Of course, Mr. Brand, you must know of the Zaccatelli affair?" + +Brand regarded him, and said, calmly, + +"I do. There are five men in England who know of it; you and I are two +of them." + +"Well," said Edwards, eagerly, "if such a thing were determined on, +wouldn't it have been better to let this poor wretch do it? He would +have gloried in it; he had the enthusiasm of the martyr just then; he +thought he was to be allowed to do something that would make Miss Lind +and her friends forever grateful to him." + +"And who put it into his head that Miss Lind knew anything about +it?--Calabressa, I suppose." + +Edwards colored slightly. + +"Well, yes--" + +"And it was Calabressa who intrusted such a secret as that to a +maniac--" + +"Pardon me, Kirski never knew specifically what lay before him; but he +was ready for anything. For my own part, I was heartily glad when they +sent him back to England. I did not wish to have any hand in such a +business, however indirectly; and, indeed, I hope they have abandoned +the whole project by this time." + +"It might be wiser, certainly," said Brand, with an indifferent air. + +"If they go on with it, it will make a fearful noise in Europe," said +Edwards, contemplatively. "The assassination of a cardinal! Well, his +life has been scandalous enough--but still, his death, in such a way--" + +"It will horrify people, will it not?" Brand said, calmly; "and his +murderer will be execrated and howled at throughout Europe, no doubt!" + +"Well, yes; you see, who is to know the motives?" + +"There won't be a single person to say a single word for him," said +Brand, absently. "It is an enviable fate, isn't it, for some wretched +mortal? No matter, Edwards; we will go and look up this fellow Kirski +now." + +They went out into the night--it was cold and drizzling--and made their +way up into Soho. They knocked at the door of a shabby-looking house; +and Kirski's landlady made her appearance. She was very angry when his +name was mentioned; of course he was not at home; they would find him in +some public-house or other--the animal! + +"But he pays his rent, doesn't he?" Brand remonstrated. + +Oh yes, he paid his rent. But she didn't like a wild beast in the house. +It was decent lodgings she kept; not a Wombwell's Menagerie. + +"I am sure he gives you no trouble, ma'am," said Edwards, who had seen +something of the meek and submissive way the Russian conducted himself +in his lodgings. + +This she admitted, but promptly asked how she was to know she mightn't +have her throat cut some night? And what was the use of her talking to +him, when he didn't know two words of a Christian language? + +They gathered from this that the good woman had been lecturing her +docile lodger, and had been seriously hurt because of his inattention. +However, she at last consented to give them the name of the particular +public-house in which he was likely to be found, and they again set off +in quest of him. + +They found him easily. He was seated in a corner of the crowded and +reeking bar-room by himself, nursing a glass of gin-and-water with his +two trembling hands. When they entered, he looked up and regarded them +with bleared, sunken eyes, evidently recognized them, and then turned +away sullenly. + +"Tell him I am not come to bully him," said Brand quickly. "Tell him I +am come about some work. I want a cabinet made by a first-class workman +like himself." + +Edwards went forward and put his hand on the man's shoulder and spoke to +him for some time; then he turned to Brand. + +"He says, 'No use; no use.' He cannot work any more. They won't give him +help to kill Pavel Michaieloff. He wishes to die." + +"Ask him, then, what the young lady who gave him her portrait will think +of him if she hears he is in this condition. Ask him how he has dared to +bring her portrait into a place like this." + +When this was conveyed to Kirski, he seemed to arouse himself somewhat; +he even talked eagerly for a few seconds; then he turned away again, as +if he did not wish to be seen. + +"He says," Edwards continued, "that he has not, that he would not bring +that portrait into any such place. He was afraid it might be found--it +might be taken from him. He made a small casket of oak, carved by his +own hands, and lined it with zinc; he put the photograph in it, and hid +himself in the trees of St. James's Park--at least, I imagine that St. +James's Park is what he means--at night. Then he buried it there. He +knows the place. When he has killed Michaieloff he will come back and +dig it up." + +"The poor devil--his brain is certainly going, drink or no drink. What +is to be done with him, Edwards?" + +"He says the young lady has gone away. He cares for nothing. He is of no +use. He despairs of getting enough money to take him back to Russia." + +After a great deal of persuasion, however, they got him to leave the +public-house with them and return to his lodgings. They got him some tea +and some bread-and-butter, and made him swallow both. Then Edwards, +under his friend's instructions, proceeded to impress on Kirski that the +young lady was only away from London for a short time: that she would be +greatly distressed if she were to hear he had been misconducting +himself; that, if he returned to his work on the following morning, he +would find that his master would overlook his absence; and that finally, +he was to abandon his foolish notions about going to Russia, for he +would find no one to assist him; whereas, on the other hand, if he went +about proclaiming that he was about to commit a crime, he would be taken +by the police and shut up. All this, and a great deal more, they tried +to impress on him; and Edwards promised to call the next evening and see +how he was getting on. + +It was late when Brand and Edwards again issued out into the wet night; +and Edwards, having promised to post a line to Kirski's employers, so +that they should get it in the morning, said good-bye, and went off to +his own lodgings. Brand walked slowly home through the muddy streets. He +preferred the glare and the noise to the solitude of his own rooms. He +even stood aimlessly to watch a theatre come out; the people seemed so +careless and joyous--calling to each other--making feeble jokes--passing +away under their umbrellas into the wet and shining darkness. + +But at length, without any definite intention, he found himself at the +foot of the little thoroughfare in which he lived; and he was about to +open the door with his latch-key when out of the dusk beyond there +stepped forth a tall figure. He was startled, it is true, by the +apparition of this tall, white-haired man in the voluminous blue cloak, +the upturned hood of which half concealed his face, and he turned with a +sort of instinct of anger to face him. + +"Monsieur mon frere, you have arrived at last!" said the stranger, and +instantly he recognized in the pronunciation of the French the voice of +Calabressa. + +"What!" he said; "Calabressa?" + +The other put a finger on his arm. + +"Hush!" he said. "It is a great secret, my being here; I confide in +you. I would not wait in your rooms--my faith no! for I said to myself, +'What if he brings home friends who will know me, who will ask what the +devil Calabressa is doing in this country.'" + +Brand had withdrawn his hand from the lock. + +"Calabressa," he said, quickly, "you, if anybody knows, must know where +Natalie and her mother are. Tell me!" + +"I will directly; but may I point out to you, my dear Monsieur Brand, +that it rains--that we might go inside? Oh yes, certainly, I will tell +you when we can say a word in secret, in comfort. But this devil of a +climate! What should I have done if I had not bought myself this cloak +in Paris? In Paris it was cold and wet enough; but one had nothing like +what you have here. Sapristi! my fingers are frozen." + +Brand hurried him up-stairs, put him into an easy-chair, and stirred up +the fire. + +"Now," said he, impatiently--"now, my dear Calabressa, your news!" + +Calabressa pulled out a letter. + +"The news--voila!" + +Brand tore open the envelope; these were the contents: + + * * * * * + +"Dearest,--This is to adjure you not to leave England for the +present--not till you hear from me--or until we return. Have patience, +and hope. You are not forgotten. My mother sends you her blessing. + + Your Betrothed." + + * * * * * + +"But there is no address!" he exclaimed. "Where are they?" + +"Where are they? It is no secret, do you see? They are in Naples." + +"In Naples!" + +"Oh, I assure you, my dear friend, it is a noble heart, a brave heart, +that loves you. Many a day ago I said to her, 'Little child, when you +are in trouble, go to friends who will welcome you; say you are the +daughter of Natalie Berezolyi; say to them that Calabressa sent you.' +And you thought she was in no trouble! Ah, did she not tell me of the +pretty home you had got for the poor mother who is my old friend? did +she not tell me how you thought they were to be comfortable there, and +take no heed of anything else? But you were mistaken. You did not know +her. She said,'My betrothed is in danger: I will take Calabressa at his +word: before any one can hinder me, or interfere, I will go and appeal, +in the name of my family, in the name of myself!' Ah, the brave child!" + +"But appeal to whom?" said Brand, breathlessly. + +"To the Council, my friend!" said Calabressa with exultation. + +"But gracious heavens!" Brand cried, with his hand nervously clutching +the arm of his chair, "is the secret betrayed, then? Do they think I +will shelter myself behind a woman?" + +"She could betray no secret," Calabressa said, triumphantly, "she +herself not knowing it, do you not perceive? But she could speak +bravely!" + +"And the result?" + +"Who knows what that may be? In the mean time, this is the result--I am +here!" + +At another moment this assumption of dignity would have been +ludicrous; but Brand took no heed of the manner of his companion; +his heart was beating wildly. And even when his reason forced him to +see how little he could expect from this intervention--when he +remembered what a decree of the Council was, and how irrevocable the +doom he had himself accepted--still the thought uppermost in his +mind was not of his own safety or danger, but rather of her love and +devotion, her resolve to rescue him, her quick and generous impulse +that knew nothing of fear. He pictured her to himself in Naples, +calling upon this nameless and secret power, that every man around +him dreaded, to reverse its decision! And then the audacity of her +bidding him hope! He could not hope; he knew more than she did. But +his heart was full of love and of gratitude as he thought of her. + +"My dear friend," said Calabressa, lowering his voice, "my errand is one +of great secrecy. I have a commission which I cannot altogether explain +to you. But in the mean time you will be so good as to give me--_in +extense_, with every particular--the little history of how you were +appointed to--to undertake a certain duty." + +"Unfortunately, I cannot," Brand said, calmly; "these are things one is +not permitted to talk about." + +"But I must insist on it, my dear friend." + +"Then I must insist on refusing you." + +"You are trustworthy. No matter: here is something which I think will +remove your suspicions, my good friend--or shall we not rather say your +scruples?" + +He took from his pocket-book a card, and placed it somewhat +ostentatiously on the table. Brand examined it, and then stared at +Calabressa in surprise. + +"You come with the authority of the Council?" + +"By the goodness of Heaven," Calabressa exclaimed with a laugh, "you +have arrived at the truth this time!" + + + + +CHAPTER LI. + +THE CONJURER. + + +There was no mistaking the fact that Calabressa had come armed with +ample authority from the Council, and yet it was with a strange +reluctance that Brand forced himself to answer the questions that +Calabressa proceeded to put to him. He had already accepted his doom. +The bitterness of it was over. He would rather have let the past be +forgotten altogether, and himself go forward blindly to the appointed +end. Why those needless explanations and admissions? + +Moreover, Calabressa's questions, which had been thought over during +long railway journeys, were exceedingly crafty. They touched here and +there on certain small points, as if he were building up for himself a +story. But at last Brand said, by way of protest, + +"Look here, Calabressa. I see you are empowered to ask me any questions +you like--and I am quite willing to answer--about the business of the +Council. But really, don't you see, I would rather not speak of private +matters. What can the Council want to know about Natalie Lind? Leave her +out of it, like a good fellow." + +"Oh yes, my dear Monsieur Brand," said Calabressa, with a smile, "leave +her out of it, truly, when she has gone to the Council; when the Council +have said, 'Child, you have not appealed to us for nothing;' when it is +through her that I have travelled all through the cold and wet, and am +now sitting here. Remember this, my friend, that the beautiful +Natalushka is now a--what do you call it?--a _ward_" (Calabressa put +this word in English into the midst of his odd French), "and a _ward_ of +a sufficiently powerful court, I can assure you, monsieur! Therefore, I +say, I cannot leave the beautiful child out. She is of importance to me; +why am I here otherwise? Be considerate, my friend; it is not +impertinence; it is not curiosity." + +Then he proceeded with his task; getting, in a roundabout, cunning, +shrewd way, at a pretty fair version of what had occurred. And he was +exceedingly circumspect. He endeavored, by all sorts of circumlocutions, +to hide from Brand the real drift of his inquiry. He would betray +suspicion of no one. His manner was calm, patient, almost indifferent. +All this time Brand's thoughts were far away. He was speaking to +Calabressa, but he was thinking of Naples. + +But when they came to Brand's brief description of what took place in +Lisle Street on the night of the casting of the lot, Calabressa became +greatly excited, though he strove to appear perfectly calm. + +"You are sure," he said, quickly, "that was precisely what happened?" + +"As far as I know," said Brand, carelessly. "But why go into it? If I do +not complain, why should any one else?" + +"Did I say that any one complained?" observed the astute Calabressa. + +"Then why should any one wish to interfere? I am satisfied. You do not +mean to say, Calabressa, that any one over there thinks that I am +anxious to back out of what I have undertaken--that I am going down on +my knees and begging to be let off? Well, at all events, Natalie does +not think that," he added, as if it did not matter much what any other +thought. + +Calabressa was silent; but his eyes were eager and bright, and he was +quickly tapping the palm of his left hand with the forefinger of the +right. Then he regarded Brand with a sharp, inquisitive look. Then he +jumped to his feet. + +"Good-night, my friend," he said, hurriedly. + +But Brand rose also, and sought to detain him. + +"No, no, my good Calabressa, you are not going yet; you have kept me +talking for your amusement; now it is your turn. You have not yet told +me about Natalie and her mother." + +"They are well--they are indeed well, I assure you," said Calabressa, +uneasily. He was clearly anxious to get away. By this time he had got +hold of his cloak and swung it round his shoulders. + +"Calabressa, sit down, and tell me something about Natalie. What made +her undertake such a journey? Is she troubled? Is she sad? I thought her +life was full of interest now, her mother being with her." + +Calabressa had got his cap, and had opened the door. + +"Another time, dear Monsieur Brand, I will sit down and tell you all +about the beautiful, brave child, and my old friend her mother. Yes, +yes--another time--to-morrow--next day. At present one is overwhelmed +with affairs, do you see?" + +So saying, he forced Brand to shake hands with him, and went out, +shutting the door behind him. + +But no sooner had he got into the street than the eager, talkative, +impulsive nature of the man, so long confined, broke loose. He took no +heed that it was raining hard. He walked fast; he talked aloud to +himself in his native tongue, in broken interjectional phrases; +occasionally he made use of violent gestures, which were not lessened in +their effect by the swaying cape of his cloak. + +"Ah, those English--those English!" he was excitedly saying--"such +children!--blue, clear eyes that see nothing--the devil! why should they +meddle in such affairs? To play at such a game!--fool's mate; scholar's +mate; asses and idiots' mate--they have scarcely got a pawn out, and +they are wondering what they will do, when whizz! along comes the queen, +and she and the bishop have finished all the fine combinations before +they were ever begun! And you, you others, imps of hell, to play that +old foolish game again! But take care, my friends, take care; there is +one watching you, one waiting for you, who does not speak, but who +strikes! Ah, it is a pretty game; you, you sullen brute; you, you fop +and dandy; but when you are sitting silent round the board, behold a +dagger flashes down and quivers into the wood! No wonder your eyes burn! +you do not know whence it has come? But the steel-blade quivers; is it a +warning?" + +He laughed aloud, but there were still omnibuses and cabs in the street; +so he was not heard. Indeed, the people who were on the pavement were +hurrying past to get out of the rain, and took no notice of the old +albino in the voluminous cloak. + +"Natalushka," said he, quite as if he were addressing some one before +him, "do you know that I am trudging through the mud of this infernal +city all for you? And you, little sybarite, are among the fine ladies of +the reading-room at the hotel, and listening to music, and the air all +scented around you. Never mind; if only I had a little bird that could +fly to you with a message--ah, would you not have pleasant dreams +to-night? Did I not tell you to rely on Calabressa? He chatters to you; +he tries to amuse you; but he is not always Policinella. No, not always +Policinella: sometimes he is silent and cunning; sometimes--what do you +think?--he is a conjurer. Oh yes, you are not seen, you are not heard; +but when you have them round the board, whirr! comes the gleaming blade +and quivers in the wood! You look round; the guilty one shakes with the +palsy; his wits go; his startled tongue confesses. Then you laugh; you +say, 'That is well done;' you say, 'Were they wrong in giving this +affair to Calabressa?'" + +Now, whether it was that his rapid walking helped to relieve him of this +over-excitement, or whether it was that the soaking rain began to make +him uncomfortable, he was much more staid in demeanor when he got up to +the little lane in Oxford Street where the Culturverein held its +meetings. Of course, he did not knock and demand admission. He stopped +some way down the street, on the other side, where he found shelter from +the rain in a door-way, and whence he could readily observe any one +coming out from the hall of the Verein. Then he succeeded in lighting a +cigarette. + +It was a miserable business, this waiting in the cold, damp night air; +but sometimes he kept thinking of how he would approach Reitzei in the +expected interview; and sometimes he thought of Natalie; and again, with +his chilled and dripping fingers he would manage to light a cigarette. +Again and again the door of the hall was opened, and this or the other +figure came out from the glare of the gas into the dark street; but so +far no Reitzei. It was now nearly one in the morning. + +Finally, about a quarter past one, the last batch of boon companions +came out, and the lights within were extinguished. Calabressa followed +this gay company, who were laughing and joking despite the rain, for a +short way; but it was clear that neither Beratinsky nor Reitzei was +among them. Then he turned, and made his way to his own lodgings, where +he arrived tired, soaked through, but not apparently disheartened. + +Next morning he was up betimes, and at a fairly early hour walked along +to Coventry Street, where he took up his station at the east corner of +Rupert Street, so that he could see any one going westward, himself +unseen. Here he was more successful. He had not been there ten minutes +when Reitzei passed. Calabressa hastened after him, overtook him, and +tapped him on the shoulder. + +"Ah, Calabressa!" said Reitzei, surprised, but in noway disconcerted. + +"I wish to speak with you," said Calabressa, himself a little agitated, +though he did not show it. + +"Certainly; come along. Mr. Lind will arrive soon." + +"No, alone. I wish to speak to you alone." + +Calabressa looked around. The only place of shelter he saw was a rather +shabby restaurant, chiefly used as a supper-room, and at this moment +having the appearance of not being yet woke up. Reitzei was in a +compliant mood. He suffered himself to be conducted into this place, to +the astonishment of one or two unwashed-looking waiters, who were seated +and reading the previous evening's papers. Calabressa and Reitzei sat +down at one of the small tables; the former ordered some coffee, the +latter a bottle of soda-water. + +By this time Calabressa had collected himself for the part he was about +to play. + +"Well, my friend," said he, cheerfully, "what news? When is Europe to +hear the fate of the Cardinal?" + +"I don't know; I know very little about it," said Reitzei, glancing at +him rather suspiciously. + +"It is a terrible business," said Calabressa, reflectively, "a decree of +the Council. You would think that one so powerful, so well protected, +would be able to escape, would you not? But he himself knows better. He +knows he is as powerless as you might be, for example, or myself." + +"Oh, as for that," said Reitzei, boldly, "he knows he has deserved it: +what more? He has had his little fling, now comes the settlement of the +score." + +"And I hear that our friend Brand is to be the instrument of justice: +how strange! He has not been so long with us." + +"That is Mr. Lind's affair: it has nothing to do with me," said Reitzei, +shortly. + +"Well," said Calabressa, toying with his coffee-cup. "I hope I shall +never be tempted to do anything that might lead the Council to condemn +me. Fancy such a life; every moment expecting some one to step up behind +you with a knife or a pistol, and the end sure! I would take Provana's +plan. The poor devil; as soon as he heard he had been condemned he could +not bear living. He never thought of escape: a few big stones in the +pockets of his coat, and over he slips into the Arno. And Mesentskoff: +you remember him? His only notion of escape was to give himself up to +the police--twenty-five years in the mines. I think Provana's plan was +better." + +Reitzei became a little uneasy, or perhaps only impatient. + +"Well, Calabressa," he said, "one must be getting along to one's +affairs--" + +"Oh yes, yes, truly," Calabressa said. "I only wished to know a little +more about the Cardinal. You see he cannot give himself up like +Mesentskoff, though he might confess to a hundred worse things than the +Russian ever did. Provana--well, you know the Society has always been +inexorable with regard to its own officers: and rightly, too, Reitzei, +is it not so? If one finds malversation of justice among those in a high +grade, should not the punishment be exemplary? The higher the power, the +higher the responsibility. You, for example, are much too shrewd a man +to risk your life by taking any advantage of your position as one of the +officers--" + +"I don't understand you, Calabressa," the other said, somewhat hotly. + +"I only meant to say," Calabressa observed, carelessly, "that the +punishment for malversation of justice on the part of an officer is so +terrible, so swift, and so sure, that no one but a madman would think of +running the risk--" + +"Yes, but what has that to do with me?" Reitzei said, angrily. + +"Nothing, my dear friend, nothing," said Calabressa, soothingly. "But +now, about this selection of Mr. Brand--" + +Reitzei turned rather pale for a second; but said instantly, and with +apparent anger, + +"I tell you that is none of my business. That is Mr. Lind's business. +What have I to do with it?" + +"Do not be so impatient, my friend," said Calabressa, looking at his +coffee. "We will say that, as usual, there was a ballot. All quite fair. +No man wishes to avoid his duty. It is the simplest thing in the world +to mark one of your pieces of paper with a red mark: whoever receives +the marked paper undertakes the commission. All is quite fair, I say. +Only you know, I dare say, the common, the pitiful trick of the conjurer +who throws a pack of cards on the table, backs up. You take one, look at +it privately, return it, and the cards are shuffled. Without lifting the +cards at all he tells you that the one you selected was the eight of +diamonds: why? It is no miracle: all the cards are eight of diamonds; +though you, you poor innocent, do not know that. It is a wretched +trick," added Calabressa, coolly. + +Reitzei drank off the remainder of his soda-water at a gulp. He stared +at Calabressa in silence, afraid to speak. + +"My dear friend Reitzei," said Calabressa, at length raising his eyes +and fixing them on his companion, "you could not be so insane as to play +any trick like that?--having four pieces of paper, for example, all +marked red, the marks under the paper? You would not enter into any such +conspiracy, for you know, friend Reitzei, that the punishment +is--death!" + +The man had turned a ghastly gray-green color. He was apparently choking +with thirst, though he had just finished the soda-water. He could not +speak. + +Calabressa calmly waited for him; but in his heart he was saying +exultingly, "_Ha! the dagger quivers in the board: his eyes are starting +from his head; is it Calabressa or Cagliostro that has paralyzed him?_" + +At length the wretched creature opposite him gasped out, + +"Beratinsky--" + +But he could say no more. He motioned to a waiter to bring him some +soda-water. + +"Yes, Beratinsky?" said Calabressa, calmly regarding the livid face. + +"--has betrayed us!" he said, with trembling lips. In fact, there was no +fight in him at all, no angry repudiation; he was helpless with this +sudden bewilderment of fear. + +"Not quite," said Calabressa; and he now spoke in a low, eager voice. +"It is for you to save yourself by forestalling him. It is your one +chance; otherwise the decree; and good-bye to this world for you! +See--look at this card--I say it is your only chance, friend +Reitzei--for I am empowered by the Council to promise you, or +Beratinsky, or any one, a free pardon on confession. Oh, I assure you +the truth is clear: has not one eyes? You, poor devil, you cannot speak: +shall I go to Beratinsky and see whether he can speak?" + +"What must I do--what must I do?" the other gasped, in abject terror. +Calabressa, regarding this exhibition of cowardice, could not help +wondering how Lind had allowed such a creature to associate with him. + +Then Calabressa, sure of victory, began to breathe more freely. He +assumed a lofty air. + +"Trust in me, friend Reitzei. I will instruct you. If you can persuade +the Council of the truth of your story, I promise you they will absolve +you from the operations of a certain Clause which you know of. Meanwhile +you will come to my lodgings and write a line to Lind, excusing yourself +for the day; then this evening I dare say it will be convenient for you +to start for Naples. Oh, I assure you, you owe me thanks: you did not +know the danger you were in; hereafter you will say, 'Well, it was no +other than Calabressa who pulled me out of that quagmire.'" + +A few minutes thereafter Calabressa was in a telegraph-office, and this +was the message he despatched: + + * * * * * + +"Colonna, London: to Bartolotti, Vicolo Isotta, No. 15, Naples. Ridotto +will arrive immediately, colors down. Send orders for Luigi and Bassano +to follow." + + * * * * * + +"It is a bold stroke," he was saying to himself, as he left the office, +"but I have run some risks in my time. What is one more or less?" + + + + +CHAPTER LII. + +FIAT JUSTITIA. + + +This scheme of Calabressa's had been so rapidly conceived and put in +execution, that he had had no time to think of its possible or certain +consequences, in the event of his being successful. His immediate and +sole anxiety was to make sure of his captive. There was always the +chance that a frightened and feeble creature like Reitzei might double +back; he might fly to Lind and Beratinsky, and seek security in a new +compact; for who could prove any thing if the three were to maintain +their innocence? However, as Calabressa shrewdly perceived, Reitzei was +in the dark as to how much the Council knew already. Moreover, he had +his suspicions of Beratinsky. If there was to be a betrayal, he was +clearly resolved to have the benefit of it. Nevertheless, Calabressa did +not lose sight of him for a moment. He took him to his, Calabressa's +lodgings; kept assuring him that he ought to be very grateful for being +thus allowed to escape; got him to write and despatch a note to Lind, +excusing himself for that day and the next, and then proceeded to give +him instructions as to what he should do in Naples. These instructions, +by-the-way, were entirely unnecessary; it is no part of Calabressa's +plan to allow Reitzei to arrive in Naples alone. + +After a mid-day meal, Calabressa and Reitzei walked up to the lodgings +of the latter, where he got a few travelling things put together. +By-and-by they went to the railway station, Calabressa suggesting that +it was better for Reitzei to get away from London as soon as possible. +The old albino saw his companion take his seat in the train for Dover, +and then turned away and re-entered the busy world of the London +streets. + +The day was fine after the rain; the pavements were white and dry; he +kept in the sunlight for the sake of the warmth; but he had not much +attention for the sights and sounds around him. Now that this sudden +scheme promised to be entirely successful, he could consider the +probable consequences of that success; and, as usual, his first thought +was about Natalie. + +"Poor child--poor child!" he said to himself, rather sadly. "How could +she tell how this would end? If she saves the life of her lover, it is +at the cost of the life of her father. The poor child!--must misfortune +meet her whichever way she turns?" + +And then, too, some touch of compunction or even remorse entered into +his own bosom. He had been so eager in the pursuit? he had been so +anxious to acquit himself to the satisfaction of the Council, that he +had scarcely remembered that his success would almost certainly involve +the sacrifice of one who was at least an old colleague. Ferdinand Lind +and Calabressa had never been the very best of friends; during one +period, indeed, they had been rivals; but that had been forgotten in the +course of years, and what Calabressa now remembered was that Lind and he +had at least been companions in the old days. + +"Seventeen years ago," he was thinking, "he forfeited his life to the +Society, and they gave it back to him. They will not pardon him this +time. And who is to take the news to Natalie and the beautiful brave +child? Ah, what will she say? My God, is there no happiness for any one +in this world?" + +He was greatly distressed; but in his distress he became desperate. He +would not look that way at all. He boldly justified himself for what he +had done, and strove to regard it with satisfaction. What if both Lind +and Beratinsky were to suffer; had they not merited any punishment that +might befall them? Had they not compassed the destruction of an innocent +man? Would it have been better, then, that George Brand should have +become the victim of an infamous conspiracy? _Fiat justitia!_--no matter +at what cost. Natalie must face the truth. Better that the guilty should +suffer than the innocent. And he, Calabressa, for one, was not going to +shirk any responsibility for what might happen. He had obeyed the orders +of the Council. He had done his duty: that was enough. + +He forced himself not to think of Natalie, and of the dismay and horror +with which she would learn of one of the consequences of her appeal. +This was a matter between men--to be settled by men: if the consciences +of women were tender, it could not be helped. Calabressa walked faster +and faster, as it he were trying to get away from something that +followed and annoyed him. He pretended to himself that he was deeply +interested in a shop-window here or there; occasionally he whistled; he +sung "Vado a Napoli in barchetta" with forced gayety; he twisted his +long white moustache, and then he made his way down to Brand's rooms. + +Here he was also very gay. + +"Now, my dear Monsieur Brand, to-day I have idleness; to-day I will talk +to you; yesterday I could not." + +"Unfortunately," said Brand, "our positions are reversed now, for here +is a letter from Lind wanting me to go up to Lisle Street. It seems +Reitzei has had to go off into the country, leaving a lot of +correspondence--" + +"You are, then, on good terms with Lind?" Calabressa interposed, +quickly. + +"Yes; why not?" said Brand, with a stare. + +"I, also--I say, why not? It is excellent. Then you have no time for my +chatter?" said Calabressa, carelessly regarding the open letter. + +"At least you can tell me something about Natalie and her mother. Are +they well? What hotel are they at?" + +Calabressa laughed. + +"Yes, yes, my friend Monsieur Brand, you say, 'Are they well?' What you +mean is, 'What has taken them to Naples?' _Bien_, you are right to +wonder; you will not have to wonder long. A little patience; you will +hear something; do not be surprised. And you have no message, for +example, by way of reply to the letter I brought you?" + +"You are returning to Naples, then?" + +"To-night. I will take a message for you: if you have no time now, send +it to me at Charing Cross. Meanwhile, I take my leave." + +Calabressa rose, but was persuaded to resume his seat. + +"I see," said he, again laughing, "that you have a little time to hear +about the two wanderers. Oh, they are in a good hotel, I assure you; +pretty rooms; you look over to Capri; quite near you the Castello dell' +Ovo; and underneath your windows the waves--a charming view! And the +little Natalushka, she has not lost her spirits: she says to me, 'Dear +Mr. Calabressa, will you have the goodness to become my champion?' I say +to her, 'Against all the world!' 'Oh no,' she answers, 'not quite so +much as that. It is a man who sells agates and pebbles, and such things; +and no matter when I go out, he will follow me, and thrust himself +before me. Dear Mr. Calabressa, I do not want agates and pebbles, and he +is more importunate than all the others put together; and the servants +of the hotel can do nothing with him.' Oh, I assure you, it would have +made you laugh--her pretence of gravity! I said nothing--not I; what is +the use of making serious promises over trifles? But when I went out I +encountered the gentleman with the agates and pebbles. 'Friend,' said I, +'a word with you. Skip, dance, be off with you to the steps of some +other hotel; your presence is not agreeable here.' 'Who are you?' said +he, naturally. 'No matter,' said I; 'but do you wish to be presented +with two dozen of the school-master's sweetmeats?' 'Who are you?' said +he again. Then I took him by the ear and whispered something to him. By +the blood of Saint Peter, Monsieur Brand, you should have heard the +quick snap of his box, and seen the heels of him as he darted off like +an antelope! I tell you the grave-faced minx, that mocking Natalushka, +who makes fun of old people like me--well, she shall not any more be +troubled with agates and pebbles!" + +"Then she is quite cheerful and happy?" said Brand, somewhat wondering. + +"Sometimes," Calabressa said, more gravely. "One cannot always be +anxious; one has glimpses of hope; then the spirit rises; the eyes +laugh. You, for example, you do not seem much cast down?" + +Brand avoided his inquisitive look, and merely said, + +"One must take things as one finds them. There is no use repining over +what happens." + +Calabressa now rose and took his cap; then he laid it down on the table +again. + +"One moment before I go, my dear Monsieur Brand. I told you to expect +news; perhaps you will not understand. Shall I show you something to +help? Regard this: it is only a little trick; but it may help you to +understand when the news comes to you." + +He took from his pocket a piece of white paper, square, and with +apparently nothing on it. He laid it on the table, and produced a red +pencil. + +"May I trouble you for a small pair of scissors, my dear friend?" + +Brand stepped aside to a writing-desk, and brought him the scissors; he +was scarcely thinking of Calabressa, at all; he was thinking of the +message he would send to Naples. + +Calabressa slowly and carefully cut the piece of paper into four +squares, and proceeded to fold these up. Brand looked on, it is true, +but with little interest; and he certainly did not perceive that his +companion had folded three of these pieces with the under side inward, +the fourth with the upper side inward, while this had the rough edges +turned in a different direction from the other three. + +"Now, Mr. Brand," said Calabressa, calmly, "if one were drawing lots, +for example, what more simple than this? I take one of these pieces--you +see there is nothing on it--I print a red cross with my pencil; there, +it is folded again, and they all go into my cap." + +"Enough, Calabressa," Brand said, impatiently; "you show me that you +have questioned me closely enough. There is enough said about it." + +"I ask your pardon, my dear friend, there is not," said Calabressa, +politely; "for this is what I have to say now: draw one of the pieces of +paper." + +Brand turned away. + +"It is not a thing to be gone over again, I tell you; I have had enough +of it; let it rest." + +"It must not rest. I beg of you--my friend, I insist--" + +He pressed the cap on him. Brand, to get rid of him, drew one of the +papers and tossed it on to the table. Calabressa took it up, opened it, +and showed him the red cross. + +"Yes, you are again unfortunate, my dear Monsieur Brand. Fate pursues +you, does it not? But wait one moment. Will you open the other three +papers?" + +As Brand seemed impatient, Calabressa himself took them out and opened +them singly before him. On each and all was the same red mark. + +But now Brand was indifferent no longer + +"What do you mean, Calabressa?" he said, quickly. + +"I mean," said Calabressa, regarding him, "that one might prepare a +trick by which you would not have much chance of escape." + +Brand caught him by the arm. + +"Do you mean that these others--" He could not complete the sentence; +his brain was in a whirl; was this why Natalie had sent him that strange +message of hope? + +Calabressa released himself, and took his cap, and said, + +"I can tell you nothing, my dear friend--nothing. My lips are sealed for +the present. But surely one is permitted to show you a common little +trick with bits of paper!" + +"But you _must_ tell me what you mean," said Brand, breathlessly, and +with his face still somewhat pale. "You suggest there has been a trick. +That is why you have come from Naples? What do you know? What is about +to happen? For God's sake, Calabressa, don't have any mystification +about it: what is it that you know--that you suspect--that you have +heard?" + +"My dear friend," said Calabressa, with some anxiety, "perhaps I have +been indiscreet. I know nothing: what can I know? But I show you a +trick--if only to prepare you for any news--and you think it is very +serious. Oh no; do not be too hopeful--do not think it is serious--think +it was a foolish trick--" + +And so, notwithstanding all that Brand could do to force some definite +explanation from him, Calabressa succeeded in getting away, promising to +carry to Natalie any message Brand might send in the evening; and as for +Brand himself, it was now time for him to go up to Lisle Street, so that +he had something else to think of than idle mystifications. + +For this was how he took it in the end: Calabressa was whimsical, +fantastic, mysterious; he had been playing with the notion that Brand +had been entrapped into this service; he had succeeded in showing +himself how it might have been done. The worst of it was--had he been +putting vain hopes into the mind of Natalie? Was this the cause of her +message? In the midst of all this bewildering uncertainty, Brand set +himself to the work left unfinished by Reitzei, and found Ferdinand Lind +as pleasant and friendly a colleague as ever. + +But a few days after he was startled by being summoned back to Lisle +Street, after he had gone home in the afternoon. He found Ferdinand Lind +as calm and collected as usual, though he spoke in a hard, dry voice. He +was then informed that Lind himself and Beratinsky were about to leave +London for a time; that the Council wished Brand to conduct the business +at Lisle Street as best he could in their absence; and that he was to +summon to his aid such of the officers of the Society as he chose. He +asked no explanations, and Lind vouchsafed none. There was something +unusual in the expression of the man's face. + +Well, Brand installed himself in Lisle Street, and got along as best he +could with the assistance of Gathorne Edwards and one or two others. But +not one of them, any more than himself, knew what had happened or was +happening. No word or message of any kind came from Calabressa, or Lind, +or the Society, or any one. Day after day Brand get through his work +with patience, but without interest; only for the time being, these +necessities of the hour beguiled him from thinking of the hideous, +inevitable thing that lay ahead in his life. + +When news did come, it was sudden and terrible. One night he and Edwards +were alone in the rooms in Lisle Street, when a letter, sent through a +roundabout channel, was put into his hands. He opened it carelessly, +glanced at the beginning of it, then he uttered an exclamation; then, as +he read on, Edwards noticed that his companion's face was ghastly pale, +even to his lips. + +"Gracious heavens!--Edwards, read it!" he said, quite breathlessly. He +dropped the letter on the table. There was no wild joy at his own +deliverance in this man's face, there was terror rather; it was not of +himself at all he was thinking, but of the death-agony of Natalie Lind +when she should hear of her father's doom. + +"Why, this is very good news, Brand," Edwards cried, wondering. "You are +released from that affair--" + +But then he read farther, and he, too, became agitated. + +"What--what does it mean? Lind, Beratinsky, Reitzei accused of +conspiracy--misusing the powers intrusted to them as officers of the +Society--Reitzei acquitted on giving evidence--Lind and Beratinsky +condemned!" + +Edwards looked at his companion, aghast, and said, + +"You know what the penalty is, Brand?" + +The other nodded. Edwards returned to the letter, reading aloud, in +detached scraps, his voice giving evidence of his astonishment and +dismay. + +"Beratinsky, allowed the option of undertaking the duty from which you +are released, accepts--it is his only chance, I suppose--poor devil! +what chance is it, after all?" He put the letter back on the table. +"What is all this that has happened, Brand?" + +Brand did not answer. He had risen to his feet; he stood like one bound +with chains; there was suffering and an infinite pity in the haggard +face. + +"Why is not Natalie here?" he said; and it was strange that two men so +different from each other as Brand and Calabressa should in such a +crisis have had the same instinctive thought. The lives and fates of men +were nothing; it was the heart of a girl that concerned them. "They will +tell her--some of them over there--they will tell her suddenly that her +father is condemned to die! Why is she--among--among strangers?" + +He pulled out his watch hastily, but long ago the night-mail had left +for Dover. At this moment the bell rung below, and he started; it was +unusual for them to have a visitor at such an hour. + +"It is only that drunken fool Kirski," Edwards said. "I asked him to +come here to-night." + + + + +CHAPTER LIII. + +THE TRIAL. + + +It was a dark, wet, and cold night when Calabressa felt his way down the +gangway leading from the Admiralty Pier into the small Channel steamer +that lay slightly rolling at her moorings. Most of the passengers who +were already on board had got to leeward of the deck-cabins, and sat +huddled up there, undistinguishable bundles of rugs. For a time he +almost despaired of finding out Reitzei, but at last he was successful; +and he had to explain to this particular bundle of rugs that he had +changed his mind, and would himself travel with him to Naples. + +It was a dirty night in crossing, and both suffered considerably; the +difference being that, as soon as they got into the smooth waters of +Calais harbor, Calabressa recovered himself directly, whereas Reitzei +remained an almost inanimate heap of wrappings, and had to be assisted +or shoved up the steep gangway into the glare of the officials' lamps. +Then, as soon as he had got into a compartment of the railway-carriage, +he rolled himself up in a corner, and sought to forget his sufferings in +sleep. + +Calabressa was walking up and down on the platform. At length the bell +rung, and he was about to step into the compartment, when he found +himself preceded by a lady. + +"I beg your pardon, madame," said he, politely, "but it is a carriage +for smokers." + +"And if one wishes to smoke, one is permitted--is it not so?" said the +stranger, cheerfully. + +Calabressa at once held open the door for her, and then followed. These +three had the compartment to themselves. + +She was a young lady, good-looking, tall, bright-complexioned, with +brown eyes that had plenty of fire in them, and a pleasant smile that +showed brilliant teeth. Calabressa, sitting opposite her, judged that +she was an Austrian, from the number of bags and knickknacks she had, +all in red Russia leather, and from the number of trinkets she wore, +mostly of polished steel or silver. She opened a little tortoise-shell +cigarette-case, took out a cigarette, and gracefully accepted the light +that Calabressa offered her. By this time the train had started, and was +thundering through the night. + +The young lady was very frank and affable; she talked to her companion +opposite--Reitzei being fast asleep--about a great many things; she lit +cigarette after cigarette. She spoke of her husband moreover; and +complained that he should have to go and fight in some one else's +quarrel. Why could not ladies who went to the tables at Monte Carlo keep +their temper, that a perfectly neutral third person should be summoned +to fight a duel on behalf of one of them? + +"You are going to rejoin him, then, madame?" said Calabressa. + +"Not at all," she said, laughing. "I have my own affairs." + +After some time, she said, with quite a humorous smile, + +"My dear sir, I hope I do not keep you from sleeping. But you are +puzzled about me; you think you have seen me before, but cannot tell +where." + +"There you are perfectly right, madame." + +"Think of the day before yesterday. You were crossing in the steamer. +You were so good as to suggest to a lady on board that nearer the centre +vessel would be safer for her--" + +He stared at her again. Could this be the same lady who, on the day that +he crossed, was seated right at the stern of the steamer her brown hair +flying about with the wind, her white teeth flashing as she laughed and +joked with the sailors, her eyes full of life and merriment as she +pitched up and down? Calabressa, before the paroxysms of his woe +overtook him, had had the bravery to go and remonstrate with this young +lady, and to tell her she would be more comfortable nearer the middle of +the boat; but she had laughingly told him she was a sailor's daughter, +and was not afraid of the sea. Well, this handsome young lady opposite +certainly laughed like that other, but still-- + +"Oh," she said, "do I puzzle you with such a simple thing? My hair was +brown the day before yesterday, it is black to-day; is that a sufficient +disguise? _Pardieu_, when I went to a music-hall in London that same +night to see some stupid nonsense--bah! such stupid nonsense I have +never seen in the world--I went dressed as a man. Only for exercise, you +perceive: one does not need disguises in London." + +Calabressa was becoming more and more mystified, and she saw it, and her +amusement increased. + +"Come, my friend," she said, "you cannot deny that you also are +political?" + +"I, madame?" said Calabressa, with great innocence. + +"Oh yes. And you are not on the side of the big battalions, eh?" + +"I declare to you, madame--" + +She glanced at Reitzei. + +"Your friend sleeps sound. Come, shall I tell you something? You did not +say a word, for example, when you stepped on shore, to a gentleman in a +big cloak who had a lantern--" + +"Madame, I beg of you!" he exclaimed, in a low voice, also glancing at +Reitzei. + +"What!" she said, laughing. "Then you have the honor of the acquaintance +of my old friend Biard? The rogue, to take a post like that! Oh, I think +my husband could speak more frankly with you; I can only guess." + +"You are somewhat indiscreet, madame," said Calabressa, coldly. + +"I indiscreet?" she said, flickering off the ash of her cigarette +with a finger of the small gloved hand. Then she said, with mock +seriousness, "How can one be indiscreet with a friend of the good man +Biard? Come, I will give you a lesson in sincerity. My husband is gone +to fight a duel, I told you; yes, but his enemy is a St. Petersburg +general who belonged to the Third Section. They should not let Russians +play at Monte Carlo; it is so easy to pick a quarrel with them. And now +about myself; you want to know what I am--what I am about. Ah, I +perceive it, monsieur. Well, this time, on the other hand, I shall be +discreet. But if you hear of something within a few weeks--if the whole +of the world begins to chatter about it--and you say, 'Well, that woman +had pluck'--then you can think of our little conversation during the +night. We must be getting near Amiens, is it not so?" + +She took from her traveling-bag a small apparatus for showering +eau-de-cologne in spray, and with this sprinkled her forehead; afterward +removing the drops with a soft sponge, and smoothing her rebellious +black hair. Then she took out a tiny flask and cup of silver. + +"Permit me, monsieur, to give you a little cognac, after so many +cigarettes. I fear you have only been smoking to keep me company--" + +"A thousand thanks, madame!" said Calabressa, who certainly did not +refuse. She took none herself; indeed, she had just time to put her +bags in order again when the train slowed into Amiens station; and she, +bidding her bewildered and bewitched companion a most courteous +farewell, got out and departed. + +Calabressa himself soon fell asleep, and did not wake until they were +near Paris. By this time the bundle of rugs in the corner had begun to +show signs of animation. + +"Well, friend Reitzei you have had a good sleep," said Calabressa, +yawning, and stretching his arms. + +"I have slept a little." + +"You have slept all night--what more? What do you know, for example, of +the young lady who was in the carriage?" + +"I saw her come in," Reitzei said, indifferently, "and I heard you +talking once or twice. What was she?" + +"There you ask me a pretty question. My belief is that she was either +one of those Nihilist madwomen, or else the devil himself in a new +shape. At any rate, she had some good cognac." + +"I should like some coffee now, Signor Calabressa; and you?" + +"I would not refuse it." + +Indeed, during all this journey to Naples, Calabressa and his companion +talked much more of the commonplace incidents and wants of travel than +of the graver matters that lay before them. Calabressa was especially +resolute in doing so. He did not like to look ahead. He kept reminding +himself that he was simply the agent of the Council; he was carrying out +their behests; the consequences were for others to deal with. He had +fulfilled his commission; he had procured sufficient proof of the +suspected conspiracy; if evil-doers were to be punished, was he +responsible? _Fiat justitia!_ he kept repeating to himself. He was +answerable to the Council alone. He had done his duty. + +But from time to time--and especially when they were travelling at +night, and he was awake--a haunting dread possessed him. How should he +appear before these two women in Naples? His old friend Natalie +Berezolyi had been grievously wronged; she had suffered through long +years; but a wife forgets much when her husband is about to die. And a +daughter? Lind had been an affectionate father enough to this girl; +these two had been companions all her lifetime; recent incidents would +surely be forgotten in her terror over the fact that it was her own +appeal to the Council that had wrought her father's death. And then he, +Calabressa, what could he say? It was through him she had invoked these +unknown powers; it was his counsel that had taken her to Naples; and he +was the immediate instrument that would produce this tragic end. + +He would not think of it. At the various places where they stopped he +worried about food and drink, and angrily haggled about hotel-bills: he +read innumerable stupid little newspapers from morning till night; he +smoked Reitzei nearly blind. At last they reached Naples. + +Within an hour after their arrival Calabressa, alone, was in Tommaso's +wine-vaults talking to the ghoul-like occupant. A bell rung, faint and +muffled, in the distance; he passed to the back of the vaults, and lit a +candle that Tommaso handed him; then he followed what seemed, from the +rumble overhead, some kind of subterranean corridor. But at the end of +this long sub-way he began to ascend; then he reached some steps; +finally, he was on an ordinary staircase, with daylight around him, and +above him a landing with two doors, both shut. + +Opening one of these doors, after having knocked thrice, he entered a +large, bare chamber which was occupied by three men, all seated at a +table which was covered with papers. One of them, Von Zoesch, rose. + +"That is good; that is very well settled," he said to the other two. "It +is a good piece of work. Now here is this English business, and the +report of our wily friend, Calabressa. What is it, Calabressa? We had +your telegram; we have sent for Lind and Beratinsky; what more?" + +"Excellency, I have fulfilled your commission, I hope with judgment," +Calabressa said, his cap in his hand. "I believe it is clear that the +Englishman had that duty put upon him by fraudulent means." + +"It is a pity if it be so; it will cost us some further trouble, and we +have other things to think about at present." Then he added, lightly, +"but it will please your young lady friend, Calabressa. Well?" + +"Excellency, you forget it may not quite so well please her if it is +found that her father was in the conspiracy," said Calabressa, +submissively. + +"Why not?" answered the bluff, tall soldier. "However, to the point, +Calabressa. What have you discovered? and your proofs." + +"I have none, your Excellency; but I have brought with me one of the +four in the ballot who is willing to confess. Why is he willing to +confess?" said Calabressa, with a little triumphant smile; "because he +thinks the gentlemen of the Council know already." + +"And you have frightened the poor devil, no doubt," said Von Zoesch, +laughing. + +"I have on the contrary, assured him of pardon," said Calabressa, +gravely. It is within the powers you gave me, Excellency. I have pledged +my honor--" + +"Oh yes, yes; very well. But do you mean to tell us, my good +Calabressa," said this tall man, speaking more seriously, "that you have +proof of these three--Lind, Beratinsky, Reitzei--having combined to +impose on the Englishman? Not Lind, surely? Perhaps the other two--" + +"Your Excellency, it is for you to investigate further and determine. I +will tell you how I proceeded. I went to the Englishman, and got minute +particulars of what occurred. I formed my own little story, my guess, my +theory. I got hold of Reitzei, and hinted that it was all known. On my +faith, he never thought of denying anything, he was so frightened! But +regard this, Excellency; I know nothing. I can give you the Englishman's +account; then, if you get that of Reitzei, and the two correspond, it is +a good proof that Reitzei is not lying in his confession. It is for you +to examine him, Excellency."' + +"No, it is not for me," the ruddy-faced soldier-looking man said, and +then he turned to his two companions. The one was the Secretary +Granaglia: the other was a broad-shouldered, elderly man, with +strikingly handsome features of the modern Greek type, a pallid, +wax-like complexion, and thoughtful, impenetrable eyes. "Brother +Conventzi, I withdraw from this affair. I leave it in hands of the +Council; one of the accused was in former days my friend; it is not +right that I should interfere." + +"And I also, Excellency," said Calabressa, eagerly. "I have fulfilled my +commission; may not I retire now also?" + +"Brother Granaglia will take down your report in writing; then you are +free, my Calabressa. But you will take the summons of the Council to +your friend Reitzei; I suppose he will have to be examined before the +others arrive." + +And so it came about that neither the General von Zoesch nor Calabressa +was present when the trial, if trial it could be called, took place. +There were no formalities. In this same big bare room seven members of +the Council sat at the table, Brother Conventz presiding, the Secretary +Granaglia at the foot, with writing-materials before him. Ferdinand Lind +and Beratinsky stood between them and the side-wall apparently +impassive. Reitzei was nearer the window, pallid, uneasy, his eyes +wandering about the room, but avoiding the place where his former +colleagues stood. + +The President briefly stated the accusation against them, and read +Reitzei's account of his share in what had taken place. He asked if they +had anything to deny or to explain. + +Beratinsky was the first to speak. + +"Illustrious Brethren of the Council," he began, as if with some set +speech; but his color suddenly forsook him, and he halted and looked +helplessly round. Then he said, wildly, "I declare that I am innocent--I +say that I am innocent! I never should have thought of it, gentlemen. It +was Lind's suggestion; he wished to get rid of the man; I declare I had +nothing to gain. Gentlemen, judge for yourselves: what had I to gain?" + +He looked from one to the other; the grave faces were mostly regarding +Granaglia, who was slowly and carefully putting the words down. + +Then Lind spoke, clearly and coldly: + +"I have nothing to deny. What I did was done in the interests of the +Society. My reward for my long services is that I am haled here like a +pickpocket. It is the second time; it will be the last. I have done, +now, with the labor of my life. You can reap the fruits of it. Do with +me what you please." + +The President rose. + +"The gentlemen may now retire; the decision of the Council will be +communicated to them hereafter." + +A bell rung; Tommaso appeared; Lind and Beratinsky were conducted down +the stairs and through the dark corridor. In a few seconds Tommaso +returned, and performed a like office for Reitzei. + +The deliberation of the Council were but of short duration. The guilt of +the accused was clear; and clear and positive was the penalty prescribed +by the articles of the Society. But, in consideration of the fact that +Beratinsky had been led into this affair by Lind, it was resolved to +offer him the alternative of his taking over the service from which +Brand was released. This afforded but a poor chance of escape, but +Beratinsky was in a desperate position. That same evening he accepted; +and the Secretary Granaglia was forthwith ordered to report the result +of these proceedings to England, and give certain instructions as to the +further conduct of business there. + +The Secretary Granaglia performed this task with his usual equanimity. +He was merely a machine registering the decrees of the Council; it was +no affair of his to be concerned about the fate of Ferdinand Lind; he +had even forgotten the existence of the two women who had been patiently +waiting day after day at that hotel, alternately hoping and fearing to +learn what had occurred. + + + + +CHAPTER LIV. + +PUT TO THE PROOF. + + +It was not at all likely that, at such a crisis, George Brand should pay +much attention to the man Kirski, who was now ushered into the room. He +left Edwards to deal with him. In any case he could not have understood +a word they were saying, except through the interpretation of Edwards, +and that was a tedious process. He had other things to think of. + +Edwards was in a somewhat nervous and excited condition after hearing +this strange news, and he grew both impatient and angry when he saw that +Kirski was again half dazed with drink. + +"Yes, I thought so!" he exclaimed, looking as fierce as the mild +student-face permitted. "This is why you are not at the shop when I +called to-day. What do you mean by it? What has become of your +promises?" + +"Little father, I have great trouble," said the man, humbly. + +"You! You in trouble!" said Edwards, angrily. "You do not know what +trouble is. You have everything in the world you could wish for. You +have good friends, as much employment as you can want, fair wages, and a +comfortable home. If your wife ran away from you, isn't it a good +riddance? And then, instead of setting about your work like a good +citizen, you think of nothing but murdering a man who is as far away +from you as the man in the moon, and then you take to drinking, and +become a nuisance to every one." + +"Little father, I have many troubles, and I wish to forget." + +"Your troubles!" said Edwards, though his anger was a little bit +assumed: he wished to frighten the man into better ways. "What are your +troubles? Think of that beautiful lady you are always talking about, who +interested herself in you--the bigger fool she!--think of her trouble +when she knows that her father is to die; and for what? Because he was +not obedient to the laws of the Society. And he is punished with death; +and you, have you been obedient? What has become of your promises to +me?" + +The man before him seemed at this moment to arouse himself. He answered +nothing to the reproaches hurled at him; but said, with a glance of +eager interest in the sunken eyes, + +"Is she in great trouble, little father?" + +This gleam of intelligence rather startled Edwards. He had been merely +scolding a half-drunken poor devil, and had been incautious as to what +he said. He continued, with greater discretion, + +"Would she have her troubles made any the less if she knew how you were +behaving? She was interested in you; many a time she asked about you--" + +"Yes, yes," the man said, slowly; and he was twisting about the cap that +he held in his hand. + +"And she gave you her portrait. Well, I am glad you knew you were not +fit to retain such a gift. A young lady like that does not give her +portrait to be taken into public-houses--" + +"No more--do not say any more, little father," Kirski said, though in +the same humble way. "It is useless." + +"Useless?" + +"I will not go back to any public-house--never." + +"So you said to me four days ago," Edwards answered. + +"This time it is true," he said, though he did not lift his bleared +eyes. "To-morrow I will take back the portrait, little father; it shall +remain with me, in my room. I do not go back to any public-house, I +shall be no more trouble." Then he said, timidly raising his eyes, "Does +she weep--that beautiful one?" + +"Yes, no doubt," said Edwards, hastily, and in some confusion. "Is it +not natural? But you must not say a word about it; it is a secret. Think +of it, and what one has to suffer in this world, and then ask yourself +if you will add to the trouble of one who has been so kind to you. Now +do I understand you aright? Is it a definite promise this time?" + +"This time, yes, little father. You will have no more need to complain +of me, I will not add to any one's trouble. To-morrow--no, to-night I +take back the portrait; it is sacred; I will not add to any one's +trouble." + +There was something strange about the man's manner, but Edwards put it +down to the effects of drink, and was chiefly concerned in impressing +on the dazed intelligence before him the responsibility of the promises +he had given. + +"To-morrow, then, at nine you are at the shop." + +"Assuredly, if you wish it, little father." + +"Remember, it is the last chance your master will give you. He is very +kind to give you this chance. To-morrow you begin a new course of +conduct; and when the young lady comes back I will tell her of it." + +"I will not add to her troubles, little father; you may be sure of it +this time." + +When he had gone, Brand turned to his companion. He still held that +letter in his hands. His face, that had grown somewhat haggard of late, +was even paler than usual. + +"I suppose I ought to feel very glad, Edwards," he said. "This is a +reprieve, don't you see, so far as I am concerned. And yet I can't +realize it; I don't seem to care about it; all the bitterness was +over--" + +"You are too bewildered yet, Brand--no wonder." + +"If only the girl and her mother were over here!" he said; and then he +added, with a quick instinct of fear, "What will she say to me? When she +appealed to the Council, surely she could not have imagined that the +result would be her father's death. But now that she finds it so--when +she finds that, in order to rescue me, she has sacrificed him--" + +He could not complete the sentence. + +"But he has richly deserved it," said Edwards. + +"That is not what she will look to," he said. "Edwards," he added, +presently, "I am going home now. This place stifles me. I hate the look +of it. That table is where they played their little sleight-of-hand +business; and oh! the bravery of the one and the indifference of the +other, and Lind's solemn exposition of duty and obedience, and all the +rest of it! Well, what will be the result when this pretty story becomes +known? Rascality among the very foremost officers of the Society! what +are all those people who have recently joined us, who are thinking of +joining us, likely to say? Are these your high-priests? Are these the +apostles of self-sacrifice, and all the virtues?" + +"It is bad enough, but not irreparable," said Edwards, calmly. "If a +member here or there falls out, the association remains; if one of its +high officers betrays his trust, you see how swift and terrible the +punishment is." + +"I do not," said Brand. "I see that the paper decree is swift enough, +but what about the execution of it? Have the Council a body of +executioners?" + +"I don't know about that," said Edwards, simply; "but I know that when +I was in Naples with Calabressa, I heard of the fate of several against +whom decrees had been pronounced; and I know that in every instance they +anticipated their own fate; the horror of being continually on the watch +was too much for them. You may depend on it, that is what Lind will do. +He is a proud man. He will not go slinking about, afraid at every +street-corner of the knife of the Little Chaffinch, or some other of +those Camorra fellows--" + +"Edwards," said Brand, hastily, "there is a taint of blood--of +treachery--about this whole affair that sickens me. It terrifies me when +I think of what lies ahead. I--I think I have already tasted death, and +the taste is still bitter in the mouth. I must get into the fresh air." + +Edwards got his coat and hat, and followed. He saw that his companion +was strangely excited. + +"If all this work--if all we have been looking forward to--were to turn +out to be a delusion," Brand said, hurriedly, when they had got into the +dark clear night outside, "that would be worse than the suicide of +Ferdinand Lind or the disappearance of Beratinsky. If this is to be the +end--if these are our companions--" + +"But how can you suggest such a thing?" Edwards protested. "Your +imagination is filled with blackness, Brand. You are disturbed, shocked, +afraid. Why, who are your colleagues? What do you think of--" Here he +mentioned a whole string of names, some of them those of well-known +Englishmen. "Do you accuse them of treachery? Have you not perfect +confidence in them? Have they not perfect confidence in the work we are +all pledged to?" + +But he could not shake off this horrible feeling. He wished to be alone, +to fight with it; he did not even think of going to Lord Evelyn; perhaps +it was now too late. Shortly afterward he bade Edwards good-night, and +made his way to his rooms at the foot of Buckingham Street. + +Waters had left the lights low; he did not turn them up. Outside lay the +black night-world of London, hushed and silent, with its thousand golden +points of fire. He was glad to be alone. + +And yet an unknown feeling of dread was upon him. It seemed as if now +for the first time he realized what a terrible destiny had nearly been +his; and that his escape, so far from rendering him joyful, had left him +still trembling and horrified. Hitherto his pride had conquered. Even as +he had undertaking that duty, it was his pride that had kept him +outwardly calm and indifferent. He would not show fear, he would not +even show repugnance, before these men. And it was pride, too, that had +taught him at length and successfully to crush down certain vague +rebellions of conscience. He would not go back from his oath. He would +not go back from the promise to which Natalie's ring bound him. He would +go through with this thing, and bid farewell to life; further than that +no one could have demands on him. + +But the sudden release from this dire pressure of will left his nerves +somewhat unstrung. For the mere sake of companionship he would like to +have taken Natalie's hand, to have heard her voice: that would have +assured him, and given him courage. He knew not what dangers encompassed +her, what agony she might not be suffering. And the night did not answer +these sudden, wavering, confused questionings; the darkness outside was +as silent as the grave. + +Then a deeper gloom, almost touching despair, fell upon him. He saw in +all those companions of his only so many dupes; the great hope of his +life left him, the future became blank. He began to persuade himself +that he had only toyed with that new-found faith; that it was the +desperation of _ennui_, not a true hope, that had drawn him into this +work; that henceforth he would have no right to call upon others to join +in a vain undertaking. If such things as had just occurred were possible +in this organization, with all its lofty aims and professions--if there +was to be a background of assassination and conspiracy--why, this dream +must go as others had done. Then what remained to him in life? He almost +wished he had been allowed to go forward to this climax unknowing; to +have gone with his heart still filled with faith; to be assured until +the last moment that Natalie would remember how he had fulfilled his +promise to her. + +It was a dark night for him, within and without. But as he sat there at +the window, or walked up and down, wrestling with these demons of doubt +and despair, a dull blue light gradually filled the sky outside; the +orange stars on the bridges grew less intense; the broad river became +visible in the dusk. Then by-and-by the dull blue cleared into a pale +steel-gray, and the forms of the boats could be made out, anchored in +the stream there: these were the first indications of the coming dawn. + +Somehow or other he ceased these restless pacings of his, and was +attracted to the window, though he gazed but absently on the slow change +taking place outside--the world-old wonder of the new day rising in the +east. Up into that steely-gray glides a soft and luminous +saffron-brown; it spreads and widens; against it the far dome of St. +Paul's becomes a beautiful velvet-purple. A planet, that had been golden +when it was in the dusk near the horizon, has now sailed up into the +higher heaven, and shines a clear silver point. And now, listen! the +hushed and muffled sounds in the silence; the great city is awakening +from its sleep--there is the bark of a dog--the rumble of a cart is +heard. And still that saffron glow spreads and kindles in the east, and +the dome of St. Paul's is richer in hue than ever; the river between the +black-gray bridges, shines now with a cold light, and the gas-lamps have +grown pale. And then the final flood of glory wells up in the eastern +skies, and all around him the higher buildings catch here and there a +swift golden gleam: the sunrise is declared; there is a new day born for +the sons and daughters of men. + +The night had fled, and with it the hideous phantoms of the night. It +seemed to him that he had escaped from the grave, and that he was only +now shaking off the horror of it. Look at the beautiful, clear colors +without; listen to the hum of the city awakening to all its cheerful +activities; the new day has brought with it new desires, new hopes. He +threw open the windows. The morning air was cold and sweet--the sparrows +were beginning to chirp in the garden-plots below. Surely that black +night was over and gone. + +If only he could see Natalie for one moment, to assure her that he had +succumbed but once, and for the last time, to despair. It was a +confession he was bound to make; it would not lessen her trust in him. +For now all through his soul a sweet, clear voice was ringing: it was +the song the sunrise had brought him; it was the voice of Natalie +herself, with all its proud pathos and fervor, as he had heard it in the +olden days: + + "A little time we gain from time + To set our seasons in some chime, + For harsh or sweet, or loud or low, + With seasons played out long ago-- + And souls that in their time and prime + Took part with summer or with snow, + Lived abject lives out or sublime, + And had there chance of seed to sow + For service or disservice done + To those days dead and this their son. + + "A little time that we may fill + Or with such good works or such ill + As loose the bonds or make them strong, + Wherein all manhood suffers wrong. + By rose-hung river and light-foot rill + There are who rest not; who think long + Till they discern, as from a hill, + At the sun's hour of morning song, + Known of souls only, and those souls free, + The sacred spaces of the sea." + +Surely it was still for him and her together to stand on some such +height, hand-in-hand, and watch the sunrise come over the sea and +awakening world. They would forget the phantoms of the night, and the +traitors gone down to Erubus; perhaps, for this new life together, they +might seek a new clime. There was work for them still; and faith, and +hope, and the constant assurance of love: the future might perchance be +all the more beautiful because of these dark perils of the past. + +As he lay thus communing with himself, the light shining in on his +haggard face, Waters came into the room, and was greatly concerned to +find that not only had his master not been to bed, but that the supper +left out for him the night before had not been touched. Brand rose, +without betraying any impatience over his attendant's pertinacious +inquiries and remonstrances. He went and got writing materials, and +wrote as follows: + +"Dear Evelyn,--If you could go over to Naples for me--at once--I would +take it as a great favor. I cannot go myself. Whether or not, come to +see me at Lisle Street to-day, by twelve. + + "Yours, G.B." + +"Take this to Lord Evelyn, Waters; and if he is up get an answer." + +"But your breakfast, sir. God bless me--" + +"Never mind breakfast. I am going to lie down for an hour or two now: I +have had some business to think over. Let me have some breakfast about +eleven--when I ring." + +"Very well, sir." + +That was his phrase--he had had some business to think over. But it +seemed to him, as he went into the adjacent room, that that night he had +passed through worse than the bitterness of death. + + + + +CHAPTER LV. + +CONGRATULATIONS. + + +The Secretary Granaglia, the business of the Council being over, carried +the news to Von Zoesch. It was almost dark when he made his way up the +steep little terraces in the garden of the villa at Posilipo. He found +the tall general seated at the entrance to the grotto-like retreat, +smoking a cigar in the dusk. + +"You are late, Granaglia," he said. + +"I had some difficulty in coming here," said the little man with the +sallow face and the tired eyes. "The police are busy, or pretending to +be. The Commendatore tells me that Zaccatelli has been stirring them +up." + +"Zaccatelli!" said Von Zoesch, with a laugh. "It will soon be time now +for Zaccatelli to come down from his perch. Well, now, what is the +result?" + +Granaglia briefly recounted what had occurred: the other manifested no +surprise. + +"So this is the end of the Lind episode," he said, thoughtfully. "It is +a pity that so able a man should be thrown away. He has worked well; I +know of no one who will fill his place; but that must be seen to at +once, Granaglia. How long have they given him?" + +"A month, your Excellency. He wishes to go back to England to put his +affairs in order. He has a firm nerve." + +"He was a good-looking man when he was young," said Von Zoesch, +apparently to himself. Then he added: "This Beratinsky, to whom the +Zaccatelli affair has been transferred--what do you think of him? There +must be no bungling, Granaglia. What do you think of him--is he to be +trusted?" + +"Your Excellency, if I were to give you my own impression, I should say +not in the least. He accepts this service--why? Because he is +otherwise lost for certain, and here is a chance: it is perhaps better +than nothing. But he does not go forward with any conviction of duty: +what is he thinking but of his chance of running away?" + +"And perhaps running away beforehand, for example?" + +"Oh no, your Excellency; at least, that has been provided for. Caprone +and the brother of Caprone will wait upon him until the thing is over; +and what is more, he will receive a hint that these two humble +attendants of his are keeping an eye on him." + +"Caprone dare not go to Rome." + +"He is ready to go anywhere. They might as well try to lay hands on a +ghost." + +Von Zoesch rose, and stretched his huge frame, and yawned. + +"So this is the end of the episode Lind," he said, idly. "It is a pity. +But if a man plays a risky game and loses, he must pay. Perhaps the +warning will be wholesome, Granaglia. Our friends must understand that +our laws are not laid down for nothing, and that we are not afraid to +punish offenders, even if these be among ourselves. I suppose there is +nothing further to be done to-night?" + +"I would ask your Excellency to remain here for a little time yet," said +the Secretary. + +"Are they coming so near? We must get Calabressa to procure some of them +a dozen or two on board the schooner. However--" + +He sat down again, and lit another cigar. + +"We must pay Calabressa a compliment, Granaglia; it was well done--very +clever; it has all turned out just as he imagined; it is not the first +time he has done us good service, with all his volubility. Oh yes; the +rascal knows when to hold his tongue. At this moment, for example, he +refuses to open his lips. + +"Pardon, your Excellency; but I do not understand you." + +The general laughed a little, and continued talking--it was one way of +passing the time. + +"It is a good joke enough. The wily old Calabressa saw pretty clearly +what the decision of the Council would be, and so he comes to me and +entreats me to be the bearer of the news to Madame Lind and her +daughter. Oh yes; it is good news, this deliverance of the Englishman; +Madame Lind is an old friend of mine; she and her daughter will be +grateful. But you perceive, Granaglia, that what the cunning old dog was +determined to avoid was the reporting to Madame Lind that her husband +had been sentenced. That was no part of the original programme. And now +Calabressa holds his mouth shut; he keeps out of the way; it is left for +me to go and inform the mother and daughter." + +His voice became more serious. + +"The devil take it, it is no pleasant task at all! One is never sure how +the brain of a woman will work; you start the engine, but it may plunge +back the wrong way and strike you. Calabressa is afraid. The fox is +hiding in some hole until it is all over." + +"Cannot I be of some service, your Excellency?" the Secretary said. + +"No, no; but I thank you, friend Granaglia. It is a delicate matter; it +must be approached with circumspection; and I as an old acquaintance of +Madame Lind, ought not to shirk the duty." + +Apparently, it was not Calabressa only who had some dread of the +difficulties of news-bearer. + +"It is impossible for your Excellency to go near the hotel at present," +said the Secretary, promptly. + +But his chief refused to accept this offered means of escape. + +"That is true, but it is not a difficulty. To-night, friend Granaglia, +you will send a message to the hotel, bidding them be at the Villa +Odelschalchi to-morrow morning at eleven--you understand?" + +"Certainly, your Excellency." + +"Then I will meet them, and take the risk. Everything must be settled +off at once: we have wasted too much time over this affair, Granaglia. +When does the Genoa Council meet?" + +"On the Seventh." + +"To-morrow you must issue the summonses. Come, Granaglia, let us be +stirring; it is cold. Where does Brother Conventz sleep to-night?" + +"On board the schooner, your Excellency." + +"I also. To-morrow, at eleven, you will be at Portici; to-night you will +send the message to the ladies at the hotel; and also, if you can, find +out where that rogue Calabressa is hiding." + +That was the last of their talking. There was some locking up inside; +then they passed down through the dark garden and out into the road. +There was no one visible. They walked on in silence. + +Punctually at eleven the next morning Natalie and her mother appeared at +the iron gates of the Villa Odelschalchi and rang the bell. The porter +appeared, admitted them, and then turned to the great white staircase, +which Granaglia was at that moment seen to be descending. + +"Will the ladies have the goodness to step into the garden?" said the +Secretary, with grave courtesy. "General von Zoesch will be with them +directly." + +He accompanied them as far as the top of the terrace, and then bowed and +withdrew. + +If Natalie Lind was agitated now, it was not with fear. There was a +fresh animation of color in her cheek; her eyes were brilliant and +excited; she spoke in low, eager whispers. + +"Oh, I know what he is coming to tell us, mother--you need not be +afraid: I shall see it in his face before he comes near--I think I shall +be able to hear it in the sound of his steps. Have courage, mother! why +do you tremble so? Remember what Calabressa said. They are so powerful +they can do everything; and you and the General von Zoesch old friends, +too. Look at this, mother: do you see what I have brought with me?" + +She opened her purse--her fingers were certainly a little nervous--and +showed her mother a folded-up telegraph form. + +"I am going to telegraph to him, mother: surely it is from me he should +hear the news first. And then he might come here, mother, to go back +with us: you will rest a few days after so much anxiety." + +"I hope, my darling, it will all turn out well," said the mother, +turning quickly as she heard footsteps. + +The next second Von Zoesch appeared, his face red with embarrassment; +but still Natalie with her first swift glance saw that his eyes were +smiling and friendly, and her heart leaped up with a bound. + +"My dear young lady," said he, taking her hand, "forgive me for making +such a peremptory appointment--" + +"But you bring good news'?" she said, breathlessly. "Oh, sir, I can see +that you have succeeded--yes, yes--the danger is removed--you have saved +him!" + +"My dear young lady," said he smiling, but still greatly embarrassed, +"it is my good fortune to be able to congratulate you. Ah, I thought +that would bring some brightness to your eyes--" + +She raised his hand, and kissed it twice passionately. + +"Mother," she said, in a wild, joyful way, "will you not thank him for +me? I do not know what I am saying--and then--" + +The general had turned to her mother. Natalie quickly took out the +telegraph-form, unfolded it, knelt down and put it on the garden-seat, +and with trembling fingers wrote her message: "_You are saved! Come to +us at once; my mother and I wait here for you;_" that was the substance +of it. Then she rose, and for a second or two stood irresolute, silent, +and shamefaced. Happily no one had noticed her. These two had gone +forward, and were talking together in a low voice. She did not join +them; she could not have spoken then, her heart was throbbing so +violently with its newly-found joy. + +"Stefan," said the mother--and there was a pleasant light in her sad +eyes too--"I shall never forget the gratitude we owe you. I have nothing +else to regard now but my child's happiness. You have saved her life to +her." + +"Yes, yes," he said, in stammering haste, "I am glad the child is happy. +It would be a pity, at her time of life, and such a beautiful, brave +young lady--yes, it would be a pity if she were to suffer: I am very +glad. But there is another side to the question, Natalie; it refers to +you. I have not such good news for you--that is, it depends on how you +take it; but it is not good news--it will trouble you--only, it was +inevitable--" + +"What do you mean?" she said, calmly. + +"Your husband," he said, regarding her somewhat anxiously. + +"Yes," she said, without betraying any emotion. + +"Well, you understand, we had not the power to release your English +friend unless there had been injustice--or worse--in his being +appointed. There was. More than that, it was very nearly a repetition of +the old story. Your husband was again implicated." + +She merely looked at him, waiting for him to continue. + +"And the Council," he said, more embarrassed than ever, "had to try him +for his complicity. He was tried and--condemned." + +"To what?" she said, quite calmly. + +"You must know, Natalie. He loses his life!" + +She turned very pale. + +"It was not so before," she managed to say, though her breath came and +went quickly. + +"It was; but then he was pardoned. This time there is no hope." + +She stood silent for a second or two; then she said, regarding him with +a sad look, + +"You think me heartless, Stefan. You think I ought to be overwhelmed +with grief. But--but I have been kept from my child for seventeen years. +I have lived with the threat of the betrayal of my father hanging over +me. The affection of a wife cannot endure everything. Still, I +am--sorry--" + +Her eyes were cast down, and they slowly filled with tears. Von Zoesch +breathed more freely. He was eagerly explaining to her how this result +had become inevitable--how he himself had had no participation in it, +and so forth--when Natalie Lind stepped quickly up to them, looking from +the one to the other. She saw something was wrong. + +"Mother, what is it?" she said, in vague fear. She turned to Von Zoesch. +"Oh, sir, if there is something you have not told me--if there is +trouble--why was it not to me that you spoke?" + +She took hold of her mother's hand. + +"Mother, what is it?" + +"My dear young lady," said Von Zoesch, interposing, "you know that life +is made up of both bitter and sweet--" + +"I wish to know, signore," she said, proudly, "what it is you have told +my mother. If there is trouble, it is for her daughter to share it." + +"Well, then, dear young lady, I will tell you," he said, "though it will +grieve you also. I must explain to you. You cannot suppose that the +happy news I deliver to you was the result of the will of any one man, +or number of men. No. It was the result of the application of law and +justice. Your--sweetheart, shall I call him?--was intrusted with a grave +duty, which would most probably have cost him his life. In the ordinary +way, no one could have released him from it, however much certain +friends of yours here might have been interested in you, and grieved to +see you unhappy. But there was this possibility--it was even a +probability--that he had been selected for this service unfairly. Then, +no doubt, if that could be proved, he ought to be released." + +"Yes, yes," she said, impatiently. + +"That was proved. Unfortunately, I have to tell you that among those +convicted of this conspiracy was your father. Well, the laws of our +association are strict--they are even terrible where a delinquent is in +a position of high responsibility. My dear young lady, I must tell you +the truth: your father has been adjudged guilty--and--and the punishment +is--death!" + +She uttered a quick, short cry of alarm, and turned with frightened eyes +to her mother. + +"Mother, is it true? is it true?" + +The mother did not answer; she had clasped her trembling hands. Then the +girl turned; there was a proud passion in her voice. + +"Oh, sir, what tiger is there among you that is so athirst for blood? +You save one man's life--after intercession and prayer you save one +man's life--only to seize on that of another. And it is to me--it is to +me, his daughter--that you come with congratulations! I am only a child; +I am to be pleased: you speak of a sweetheart; but you do not tell me +that you are about to murder my father! You give me my lover; in +exchange you take my father's life. Is there a woman in all the world +so despicable as to accept her happiness at such a cost?" + +Involuntarily she crushed up the telegram she held in her hand and threw +it away from her. + +"It is not I, at all events," she exclaimed. "Oh, signore, you should +not have mocked me with your congratulations. That is not the happiness +you should offer to a daughter. But you have not killed him yet--there +is time; let things be as they were; that is what my sweetheart, as you +call him, will say; he and I are not afraid to suffer. Surely, rather +that, than that he should marry a girl so heartless and cowardly as to +purchase her happiness at the cost of her father's life?" + +"My dear young lady," he said, with a great pity and concern in his +face, "I can assure you what you think of is impossible. What is done +cannot be undone." + +Her proud indignation now gave way to terror. + +"Oh no, signore, you cannot mean that! I cannot believe it! You have +saved one man--oh, signore, for the love of Heaven, this other also! +Have pity! How can I live, if I know that I have killed my father?" + +He took both her hands in his, and strove to soothe down her wild terror +and dismay. He declared to her she had nothing to do with it, no more +than himself; that her father had been tried by his colleagues; that if +he had not been, a fearful act of treachery would have been committed. +She listened, or appeared to listen; but her lips were pale; her eyes +had a strange look in them; she was breathless. + +"Calabressa said they were all-powerful," she interrupted suddenly. "But +are they all-powerful to slay only? Oh no, I cannot believe it! I will +go to them; it cannot be too late; I will say to them that I would +rather have died than appealed to them if I had known that this was to +be the terrible result. And Calabressa--why did he not warn me? Or is he +one of the blood-thirsty ones also--one of the tigers that crouch in the +dark? Oh, signore, if they are all-powerful, they are all-powerful to +pardon. May I not go to themselves?" + +"It would be useless, my dear signorina," said Von Zoesch, with deep +compassion in his voice. "I am sorry to grieve you, but justice has been +done, and the decision is past recall. And do not blame poor old +Calabressa--" + +At this moment the bell of the outer gate rang, echoing through the +empty house, and he started somewhat. + +"Come, child," said her mother. "We have taken up too much of your time, +Stefan. I wish there had been no drawback to your good news." + +"At the present moment," he said, glancing somewhat anxiously toward +the building, "I cannot ask you to stay, Natalie; but on some other +occasion, and as soon as you please, I will give you any information you +may wish. Remember, you have good friends here." + +Natalie suffered herself to be led away. She seemed too horror-stricken +to be able to speak. Von Zoesch accompanied them only to the terrace, +and there bade them good-bye. Granaglia was waiting to show them to the +gate. A few moments afterward they were in their carriage, returning to +Naples. + +They sat silent for some time, the mother regarding her daughter +anxiously. + +"Natalushka, what are you thinking of?" + +The girl started: her eyes were filled with a haunting fear, as if she +had just seen some terrible thing. And yet she spoke slowly and sadly +and wistfully. + +"I was thinking, mother, that perhaps it was not so hard to be condemned +to die; for then there would come an end to one's suffering. And I was +wondering whether there had been many women in the world who had to +accuse themselves of taking a part in bringing about their own father's +death. Oh, I hope not--I hope not!" + +A second afterward she added, with more than the bitterness of tears in +her trembling voice, "And--and I was thinking of General von Zoesch's +congratulations, mother." + + + + +CHAPTER LVI. + +A COMMISSION. + + +Lord Evelyn obeyed his friend's summons in considerable anxiety, if not +even alarm; for he made no doubt that it had some connection with that +mysterious undertaking to which Brand was pledged; but when he reached +Lisle Street, and was shown into the larger room, no very serious +business seemed going forward. Two or three of the best-known to him +among the English members of the Society were present, grouped round a +certain Irish M.P., who, with twinkling eyes but otherwise grave face, +was describing the makeshifts of some provincial manager or other who +could not pay his company their weekly salary. To the further surprise +of the new-comer, also, Mr. Lind was absent; his chair was occupied by +Gathorne Edwards. + +He was asked to go into an inner room; and there he found Brand, looking +much more like himself than he had done for some time back. + +"It is awfully kind of you, Evelyn, to come at once. I heard you had +returned to town yesterday. Well, what of the old people down in +Wiltshire?" + +Lord Evelyn was quite thrown off his guard by this frank cheerfulness. +He forgot the uneasy forebodings with which he had left his house. + +"Oh, capital old people!" he said, putting his hat and umbrella on the +table--"excellent. But you see, Brand, it becomes a serious question if +I have to bury myself in the country, and drink port-wine after dinner, +and listen to full-blown, full-fed glorious old Tories, every time a +sister of mine gets engaged to be married. And now that Rosalys has +begun it, they'll all take to it, one after the other, like sheep +jumping a ditch." + +"They say Milbanke is a very nice young fellow," said Brand. + +"Petted, a little. But then, an only son, and heaps of money: perhaps +its natural. I know he is a ghastly hypocrite," added Lord Evelyn, who +seemed to have some little grudge against his brother-in-law in +prospect. "It was too bad of him to go egging on those old megatheria to +talk politics until they were red in the face, denouncing Free-trade, +and abusing the Ballot, and foretelling the ruin of the former as soon +as the Education Act began to work. Then he pretended to be on their +side--" + +"What did you do?" + +"I sat quiet. I was afraid I might be eaten. I relapsed into +contemplation; and began to compose a volume on 'Tory Types: Some +Survivals in English Politics. For the Information of Town Readers.'" + +"Well, now you have done your duty, and cemented the alliance between +the two families--by drinking port-wine, I suppose--what do you say to a +little pleasure-trip?" + +"Oh, is that all?" he said, looking up quickly. "Is that what your note +meant?" + +"The fact is, Evelyn," he said, with a trifle of embarrassment, "Natalie +and her mother are in Naples, and I don't know precisely in what +circumstances. I am a little anxious about them--I should like to know +more of their surroundings: why, for one thing, I don't know whether +they have any money, even. I would go over myself, Evelyn, but the +truth is I cannot--not very well. At least I ought not to go; and I +thought, if you had time--being an old friend of Natalie's--you would +like to see that she was all right. + +"Where is Lind?" said Lord Evelyn, suddenly. + +"Lind is in Italy also," said Brand, evasively. + +"Not with them?" + +"Oh no." + +There was an awkward silence. At length Brand said, + +"Something very serious has happened, Evelyn: and the question is +whether, in the interests of the Society, it should not be kept a +secret, if it is possible." + +"I do not wish to know any secret," Lord Evelyn said, simply. "I am +willing to go over to Naples at once, if I can be of any service." + +"It is very kind of you; I thought you would say as much," Brand said, +still hesitating. "But then I doubt whether you could be of much service +unless you understood the whole situation of affairs. At present only +two over here know what has occurred--Edwards and myself. Yes, I think +you must know also. Read this letter; it came only last night." + +He unlocked a drawer, took out a letter, and gave it to Lord Evelyn, who +read it slowly. When he had finished, he put it on the table without a +word. + +"You understand?" Brand said, calmly. "That means that Lind is to be +punished with death for treachery. Don't think about me; I've had a +narrow escape, but I have escaped--thanks to Natalie's courage and +decision. What I am concerned about is the effect that such a disclosure +might have on the fortunes of the Society. Would it not provoke a +widespread feeling of disgust? Wouldn't there always be a suspicion?" + +"But you yourself, Brand!" Evelyn exclaimed, in amazement. "Why, you--I +thought you would be the first to resign, after such an escape." + +"I have fought all through that, Evelyn," he said, absently. "It was my +first impulse--I confess it. The thought of being associated with such +men sickened me; I despaired; I wished they had never been found out, +and that I had been let blindly go on to the end. Well, I got over the +fit--with a struggle. It was not reasonable, after all. Surely one's +belief in the future of the Society ought to be all the firmer that +these black sheep have been thrust out? As for myself, at all events, I +ought to have more hope, not less. I never did trust Lind, as you know; +I believed in his work, in the usefulness of it, and the prospects of +its success; but I never was at ease in his presence; I was glad to get +away to my own work in the north. And now, with the way clearer, why +should one think of giving up? To tell you the truth, Evelyn, I would +give anything to be in America at the present moment, if only Natalie +and her mother were in safety. There is a chance for us there bigger +than anything Lind ever dreamed about. You know the Granges, the +associations of the 'Patrons of Husbandry,' that were founded by the +Scotchman Saunders? It is an immense social organization; the success of +it has been quite unprecedented; they have an immense power in their +hands. And it isn't only agriculture they deal with; they touch on +politics here and there; they control elections; and the men they choose +are invariably men of integrity. Well, now, don't you see this splendid +instrument ready-made? From what I hear from Philadelphia--" + +Lord Evelyn's thoughts were elsewhere than in Philadelphia. + +"You must tell me about yourself, Brand!" he exclaimed. "Your life is no +longer in danger, then? How has it happened?" + +"Oh," said Brand, somewhat carelessly, "I don't know all the particulars +as yet. What I do know is that Natalie and her mother disappeared from +London; I had no idea whither they had gone. Then Calabressa turned up; +and I heard that Natalie had appealed to the Council. Fancy, she, a +young girl, had had the courage to go and appeal to the Council! Then +Calabressa suspected something, I saw by his questions; then Lind, +Beratinsky, and Reitzei appear to have been summoned to Naples. The +result is in that letter; that is about all I know." + +"And these others in there?" said Lord Evelyn, glancing to the door. + +"They know nothing at all. That is what I am uncertain about: whether to +leave the disappearance of Lind unaccounted for--merely saying he had +been summoned away by the Council--or to let everybody who may hear of +it understand that, powerful as he was, he had to succumb to the laws of +the Society, and accept the penalty for his error. I am quite uncertain; +I have no instructions. You might find out for me in Naples, Evelyn, if +you went over there--you might find out what they consider advisable." + +"You are in Lind's place, then?" + +"Not at all," said he, quickly, and with a slight flush. "Edwards and I +are merely keeping the thing going until matters are settled. Did you +notice whether Molyneux was in the next room when you came through?" + +"Yes he was." + +"Then excuse me for a minute or two. I want to speak to you further +about Naples." + +Brand was gone some time, and Lord Evelyn was left to ponder over these +strange tidings. To him they were very joyful tidings; for ever since +that communication was made to him of the danger that threatened his +friend's life, he had been haunted by the recollection that, but for +him, Brand would in all probability have never heard of this +association. It was with an infinite sense of personal relief that he +now knew this danger was past. Already he saw himself on his way to +Naples, to find out the noble girl who had taken so bold a step to save +her lover. Not yet had darkness fallen over these two lives. + +Brand returned, carefully shut the door after him, and seated himself on +a corner of the table. + +"You see, Evelyn," he said, quite in his old matter-of-fact way, "I +can't pretend to have very much regret over what has happened to Lind. +He tried to do me an ill turn, and he has got the worst of it; that is +all. On the other hand, I bear him no malice: you don't want to hurt a +man when he is down. I can guess that it isn't the death-penalty that he +is thinking most of now. I can even make some excuse for him, now that I +see the story plain. The temptation was great; always on the +understanding that he was against my marrying his daughter; and that I +had been sure of it for some time. To punish me for not giving up my +property, to keep Natalie to himself, and to get this difficult duty +securely undertaken all at once--it was worth while trying for. But his +way of going about it was shabby. It was a mean trick. Well, there is +nothing more to be said on that point: he has played--played a foul +game--and lost." + +He added, directly afterward, + +"So you think you can go to Naples?" + +"Certainly," said Evelyn, with promptness. "You don't know how glad I am +about this, Brand. If you had come to grief over your relations with +this Society, it would have been like a mill-stone hanging on my +conscience all my life. And I shall be delighted to go to Italy for you. +I should like to see the look on Natalie's face." + +"You will probably find her in great trouble," Brand said, gravely. + +"In trouble?" + +"Naturally. Don't you see, Evelyn, she could not have foreseen that the +result of her appeal would involve the destruction of her father. It is +impossible to believe that she could have foreseen that. I know her; she +would not have stirred hand or foot. And now that this has been +discovered, it is not her father's guilt she will be thinking of; it is +his fate, brought about indirectly by herself. You may be sure, Evelyn, +she will not be overjoyed at the present moment. All the more reason why +one who knows her should be near her. I have no idea what sort of people +are about her; I should be more satisfied if I knew you were there." + +"I am ready to go; I am ready to start this afternoon, as I say," Evelyn +repeated; but then he added, with some hesitation: "But I am not going +to play the part of a hypocrite, Brand. I could not pretend to +sympathize with her, if that is the cause of her trouble; I should tell +her it served her father right." + +"You could not be so brutal if you tried, Evelyn," Brand said; "you +might think so: you could not tell her so. But I have no fear: you will +be discreet enough, and delicate enough, when you see her." + +"And what am I to say from you?" + +"From me?" he said. "Oh, you can say I thank her for having saved my +life. That will be enough, I think; she will understand the rest." + +"I mean, what do you advise her to do? Ought they to return to England?" + +"I think so, certainly. Most likely she will be waiting there, trying to +get the Council to reverse the sentence. Having been successful in the +one case, the poor child may think she ought to succeed in the other. I +fear that is too much to expect. However, if she is anxious, she may +try. I should like to know there was somebody near her she could rely +on--don't you understand, Evelyn?--to see that she is situated and +treated as you would like one of your own sisters to be." + +"I see what it is, Brand," Lord Evelyn said, laughing, "you are jealous +of the foreigners. You think they will be using tooth-picks in her +presence, and that kind of thing." + +"I wish to know that she and her mother are in a good hotel," said +Brand, simply, "with proper rooms, and attendance, and--and a carriage: +women can't go walking through these beastly streets of Naples. The long +and short of it is, Evelyn," he added, with some embarrassment, as he +took out from his pocket-book two blank checks, and sat down at the +table and signed them, "I want you to play the part of big brother to +them, don't you know? And you will have to exercise skill as well as +force. Don't you see, Calabressa is the best of fellows; but he would +think nothing of taking them to stay in some vile restaurant, if the +proprietor were politically inclined--" + +"Yes, yes; I see: garlic; cigarettes during breakfast, right opposite +the ladies; wine-glasses used as finger-glasses: well, you are a +thorough Englishman, Brand!" + +"I suppose, when your sisters go abroad, you see that they are directed +to a proper hotel?" said Brand, somewhat angrily. + +"I know this," said Evelyn, laughing, "that my sisters, and you, and +Calabressa, and myself, all boiled together, wouldn't make half as good +a traveller as Natalie Lind is. Don't you believe she has been led away +into any slummy place, for the sake of politics or anything else. I will +bet she knows the best hotels in Naples as well as you do the Waldegrave +Club." + +"At any rate, you've got to play the big brother, Evelyn; and it is my +affair, of course: I will not allow you to be out of pocket by it. Here +are two checks; you can fill them in over there when you see how matters +stand: ----, at Rome, will cash them." + +"Do you mean to say I have to pay their hotel-bills?" + +"If they have plenty of money, certainly not; but you must find out. You +must take the bull by the horns. It is far more likely that they have so +little money that they may be becoming anxious. Then you must use a firm +hand--I mean with Natalie. Her mother will acquiesce. And you can tell +Natalie that if she would buy something--some dress, or something--for +the mother of old Calabressa, who is still living--at Spezia, I +think--she would make the old chap glad. And that would be a mark of my +gratitude also; you see, I have never had even the chance of thanking +him as yet." + +Lord Evelyn rose. + +"Very well," said he, "I will send you a report of my mission. How am I +to find them?" + +"You must find them through Calabressa," he said, "for I have not got +their address. So you can start this evening?" + +"Yes, certainly." + +"Then I will telegraph at once to Calabressa to let them know you are +coming. Mind you, I am very grateful to you, Evelyn; though I wish I was +going in your stead." + +Lord Evelyn got some further instructions as to how he was to discover +Calabressa on his arrival in Naples; and that evening he began his +journey to the south. He set out, indeed, with a light heart. He knew +that Natalie would be glad to have a message from England. + +At Genoa he had to break the journey for a day, having some commission +to perform on behalf of the Society: this was a parting bequest from +Gathorne Edwards. Then on again; and in due time he entered Naples. + +He scarcely noticed, as he entered the vehicle and drove away to his +hotel, what bare-footed lads outside the station were bawling as they +offered the afternoon papers to the newly-arrived passengers. What +interest had he in Zaccatelli? + +But what the news-venders were calling aloud was this: + +"_The death of the Cardinal Zaccatelli! Death of Zaccatelli! The death +of the Cardinal Zaccatelli!_" + + + + +CHAPTER LVII. + +FAREWELL! + + +"Natalushka," said the tender and anxious mother, laying her hand on the +girl's head, "you must bestir yourself. If you let grief eat into your +heart like that, you will become ill; and what shall we do then, in a +strange hotel? You must bestir yourself; and put away those sad thoughts +of yours. I can only tell you again and again that it was none of your +doing. It was the act of the Council: how could you help it? And how can +you help it now? My old friend Stefan says it is beyond recall. Come, +Natalushka, you must not blame yourself; it is the Council, not you, who +have done this; and no doubt they think they acted justly." + +Natalie did not answer. She sighed slightly. Her eyes were turned toward +the blue waters beyond the Castello dell' Ovo. + +"Child," the mother continued, "we must leave Naples." + +"Leave Naples!" the girl cried, with a sudden look of alarm; "having +done nothing--having tried nothing?" Then she added, in a lower voice, +"Well, yes, mother, I suppose it is true what they say, that one can do +nothing by remaining. Perhaps--perhaps we ought to go; and yet it is +terrible." + +She shivered slightly as she spoke. + +"You see, Natalushka," her mother said, determined to distract her +attention somehow, "this is an expensive hotel; we must be thinking of +what money we have left to take us back. We have been here some time; +and it is a costly journey, all the way to England." + +"Oh, but not to England--not to England, mother!" Natalie exclaimed, +quickly. + +"Why not to England, then?" + +"Anywhere else, mother," the daughter pleaded. If you wish it, we will +go away: no doubt General von Zoesch knows best; there is no hope. We +will go away from Naples, mother; and--and you know I shall not be much +of a tax on you. We will live cheaply somewhere; and perhaps I could +help a little by teaching music, as Madame Potecki does. Whenever you +wish it, I am ready to go." + +"But why not to England?" + +"I cannot tell you, mother." + +She rose quickly, and passed into her own room and shut the door. + +There she stood for a second or two, irresolute and breathless, like one +who had just escaped into a place of refuge. Then her eyes fell on her +writing desk, which was on a side-table, and open. Slowly, and with a +strange, pained expression about her mouth, she went and sat down, and +took out some writing materials, and absently and mechanically arranged +them before her. Her eyes were tearless, but once or twice she sighed +deeply. After a time she began to write with an unsteady hand: + +"My Dearest,--You must let me send you a few lines of farewell; for it +would be hard if, in saying good-bye, one were not permitted to say a +kind word or two that could be remembered afterward. And your heart will +have already told you why it is not for you and me now to look forward +to the happiness that once seemed to lie before us. You know what a +terrible result has followed from my rashness; but then you are +free--that is something; for the rest, perhaps it is less misery to die, +than to live and know that you have caused another's death. You +remember, the night they played _Fidelio_, I told you I should always +try to remain worthy of your love; and how could I keep that promise if +I permitted myself to think of enjoying a happiness that was made +possible at the cost of my father's life? You could not marry a woman so +unnatural, so horrible: a marriage purchased at such a price would be +foredoomed; there would be a guilty consciousness, a life-long remorse. +But why do I speak? Your heart tells you the same thing. There only +remains for us to say good-bye, and to thank God for the gleam of +happiness that shone on us for a little time. + +"And you, my dearest of friends, you will send me also a little message, +that I can treasure as a remembrance of bygone days. And you must tell +me also whether what has occurred has deterred you from going farther, +or whether you still remain hoping for better things in the world, and +resolved to do what you can to bring them about. That would be a great +consolation to me, to know that your life still had a noble object. Then +the world would not be quite blank, either for you or for me; you with +your work, I with this poor, kind mother of mine, who needs all the +affection I can give her. Then I hope to hear of you from time to time; +but my mother and myself do not return to England. + +"And now what am I to say, being so far away from you, that will sound +pleasant to you, and that you will remember after with kindness? I look +back now over the time since I have known you, and it appears a +beautiful dream--anxious sometimes, and troubled, but always with a +golden future before it that almost bewildered the eyes. And what am I +to say of your goodness, so unvarying and constant; and your +thoughtfulness; and your great unselfishness and outspokenness? When was +there the least misunderstanding between us? I could read your heart +like my own. Only once, you remember, was there a chance of a shadow +coming between us--through my own folly; and yet perhaps it was only +natural for a girl, fancying that everything was going to be smooth and +happy in her life, to look back on what she had said in times of +trouble, and to be afraid of having spoken with too little reserve. But +then you refused to have even the slightest lovers' quarrel; you laughed +away my folly. Do you wonder if I was more than ever glad that I had +given my life into your wise and generous guidance? And it is not now, +when I am speaking to you for the last time, that I can regret having +let you know what my feelings were toward you. Oh, my darling! you must +not imagine, because these words that I am writing are cold and formal, +that my heart beats any the less quickly when I think of you and the +days we were together. I said to you that I loved you; I say to you now +that I love you with my whole heart, and I have no feeling of shame. If +you were here, I would look into your face and repeat it--I think +without a blush; I would kiss you; I would tell you that I honor you; +that I had looked forward to giving you all the trust and affection and +devotion of a wife. That is because I have faith in you; my soul is open +and clear to you; read, and if you can find there anything but +admiration for your nobleness of heart, and earnest hopes for your +happiness, and gratitude to you for all your kindness, then, and not +otherwise, shall I have cause for shame. + +"Now I have to send you my last word of good-bye--" + +[She had borne up so far; but now she put the pen aside, and bent her +head down on to her hands, and her frame was shaken with her sobbing. +When she resumed, she could scarcely see for the bitter tears that kept +welling her eyes.] + +"--and you think, looking at these cold words on the paper, that it was +easy for me to do so. It has not been so easy. I pray God to bless you, +and keep you brave and true and unselfish, and give you happiness in the +success of your work. And I ask a line from you in reply--not sad, but +something that I may look at from time to time, and that will make me +believe you have plenty of interests and hopes in the world, and that +you do not altogether regret that you and I met, and were friends, for a +time. + + NATALIE." + +This was a strange thing: she took another sheet of paper, and slowly +and with a trembling hand wrote on it these words, "_Your Wife._" That +was all. No doubt it was the signature she had hoped one day to use. She +regarded it long, and earnestly, and sadly, until, indeed, she could not +see it for the tears that rose afresh into her eyes. Then she tore up +the piece of paper hastily, folded her letter and addressed it, without +sealing the envelope, and carried it into the other room. + +"Read it mother," she said; and she turned to the window to conceal her +tear-stained face. + +The mother opened the letter and glanced at it. + +"You forget, child," she said. "I know so little English. Tell me what +it is you have written." + +So she was forced to turn; and apparently, as she spoke, she was quite +calm; but there was a darkness underneath her eyes, and there was in her +look something of the worn, sad expression of her mother's face. Briefly +and simply she repeated the substance of the letter, giving no reasons +or justifications. She seemed to take it for granted that her decision +was unavoidable, and would be seen to be so by every one. + +"Natalushka," the mother said, looking anxiously at the troubled face, +"do you know what you are about to do? It is an act of expiation for +something you have not committed." + +"Could I do otherwise?" she said. "You, mother: would you have me think +of a marriage procured through my father's death? It is too horrible!" + +The mother went to her, and took her two hands. + +"My poor child, are you to have no happier life than I have had, after +all? When I used to see you, I used to say to myself, 'Ah, my little +Natalushka will never know what has befallen me--she will have a happy +life!' I could see you laughing as you walked in the gardens there. You +looked so pleased, so content, so bright and cheerful. And now you also +are to have a life of disappointment and sad memories--" + +"Oh, you must not talk like that, mother," the girl said, hastily, in a +low voice. "Have I not you with me? We shall always be together, shall +we not? And you know we shall not have time for brooding over what is +past; we shall have much to do; we must make a pleasant small home +somewhere. Oh, there are many, many people far worse off in the world +than we are. So you must think of getting away from Naples, mother; and +think of where you would like to live, and where I should be most likely +to be able to earn a little. The years will teach us to +forget--and--and--And now you know why I do not wish to go back to +England." + +Her eyes were cast down, but she was forcing herself to speak quite +cheerfully. + +"You see, mother, my knowing English is a great advantage. If we were to +go to one of the towns on the Riviera, like Nice or Mentone, where so +many English families are, one might get pupils who would want to learn +English songs as well as Italian and German--" + +"Yes, yes, Natalushka; but I am not going to have you slave for me. The +little allowance that my cousins send me will do very well for us two, +though you will not get so fine dresses. Then, you see, Natalushka, +Mentone or Nice would be a dear place to live in." + +"Very well, mother," said the girl, with the same apparent cheerfulness, +"I will go down and post my letter, and at the same time get the loan of +a guide book. Then we shall study the maps, and pick out a nice, quiet, +remote little place, where we can live--and forget." + +The last two words were uttered to herself as she opened the door and +went out. She sighed a little as she went down the staircase--that was +all; she was thinking of things very far away. She passed into the hall, +and went to the bureau for some postage-stamps. As she stood there, some +one, unperceived, came up to her: it was Calabressa. + +"Little daughter," said he, in a trembling voice. + +She uttered a slight cry, and shrunk back. + +"Little daughter," said he, holding out his hand. + +But some strange instinct possessed her. She could not avoid touching +his hand--or the tips of his fingers, rather--for one brief second; then +she turned away from him with an involuntary shudder, and went back +through the hall, her head bent down. Calabressa stood looking after her +for a moment or two, then he turned and left the hotel. + +He walked quickly: there were tears running down his face. He looked +neither to the right nor to the left; he was talking in a broken voice +to himself; he repeated again and again, "No, she shall not turn away +from me. She will be sorry for that soon. She will say she should not +have crushed the heart of her old friend Calabressa." + +He walked out to Posilipo. Near the villa where he had formerly sought +the representatives of the Council he passed an old woman who was +selling fruit by the roadside. She glanced up at him, and said, + +"The door is closed, signore." + +"The door must be opened, good mother," said he, scarcely regarding her +as he hurried on. + +Arrived in the garden of the villa, his summons brought out to the +entrance of the grotto the Secretary Granaglia, who somewhat impatiently +told him that it was quite impossible that any member of the Council +should see him. + +"And no doubt it is about that Lind affair?" + +"Indirectly only," Calabressa said. "No, it concerns myself mostly." + +"Quite enough time, the Council think, has been given to the Lind +affair. I can tell you, my friend, there are more important matters +stirring. Now, farewell; I am wanted within." + +However, by dint of much persuasion, Calabressa got Granaglia to take in +a message to Von Zoesch. And, sure enough, his anticipations were +correct; the good-natured, bluff old soldier made his appearance, and +seemed glad to get a breath of fresh air for a minute or two. + +"Well, well, Calabressa, what is it now? Are you not all satisfied? the +young lady with her sweetheart, and all that? You rogue! you guessed +pretty rightly; to tell them the news was no light matter; but by-and-by +she will become reconciled. Her lover is to be envied; she is a +beautiful child, and she has courage. Well, are they not satisfied?" + +"I crave your pardon, Excellency, for intruding upon you," Calabressa +said, in a sort of constrained voice. "It is my own affair that brings +me here. I shall not waste your time. Your Excellency, I claim to be +substitute for Ferdinand Lind." + +The tall soldier burst out laughing. + +"What the devil is the matter with you, Calabressa; have you gone mad?" + +For a second Calabressa stood silent; his eyes downcast; his fingers +working nervously with the cap he held in his hands. + +"Your Excellency," he said, as if struggling to repress some emotion, +"it is a simple matter. I have been to see the beautiful child you speak +of; I addressed her, in the hall of the hotel; she turned away from me, +shuddering, as if I were a murderer--from me, who loves her more than I +love life. Oh, your Excellency, do not smile at it; it is not a girlish +caprice; she has a noble heart; it is not a little thing that would make +her cruel. I know what she thinks--that I have been the means of +procuring her father's death. Be it so. I will give her father his life +again. Take mine--what do I care?" + +"Nonsense, nonsense, my Calabressa. The girl has bewitched you. One must +talk to her. Take your life in exchange for that of Lind? Pooh! We +cannot send good men after bad; you are too valuable to us; whereas he, +if he were released, could be of no more use at all. It is a generous +notion on your part, friend Calabressa, but it is quixotic; moreover, +impossible." + +"You forget, Excellency, that I can claim it," said Calabressa, firmly. +"Under Article V. I can claim to be the substitute of Ferdinand Lind. +Your Excellency yourself has not the power to refuse me. I call upon you +to release Lind from the death-penalty: to-morrow I will take his place; +then you can send a message to--to Natalie Berezolyi's daughter, that, +if I have wronged her, I have made amends." + +Von Zoesch grew more serious; he eyed Calabressa curiously. The elder +man stood there trembling a little with nervous excitement, but with a +firm look on his face: there was no doubt about his resolve. + +"Friend Calabressa," said Von Zoesch, in a kindly way, "it seems as if +you had transferred your old love for Natalie Berezolyi to Natalie's +daughter, only with double intensity; but, you see, we must not allow +you to sacrifice yourself merely because a girl turns her heel on you. +It is not to be thought of. We cannot afford to lose you; besides, it is +monstrous that the innocent should suffer, and the guilty go free--" + +"The articles of the Society, your Excellency--" + +"That particular article, my Calabressa, was framed with a view to +encourage self-sacrifice and generosity, no doubt, but not with a view, +surely, to any such extreme madness as this. No. The fact is, I had no +time to explain the circumstances of the case to the young lady, or I +could easily have shown her how you were no more involved than herself +in procuring the decree against her father. To-day I cannot; to-morrow I +cannot; the day after to-morrow, I solemnly assure you, I will see her, +and reason with her, and convince her that you have acted throughout as +her best friend only could have done. You are too sensitive, my +Calabressa: ah, is it not the old romance recalled that is making you +so? But this I promise you, that she shall beg your pardon for having +turned away from you." + +"Then," said Calabressa, with a little touch of indignant pride, "then +your Excellency imagines that it is my vanity that has been wounded?" + +"No; it is your heart. And she will be sorry for having pained a true +friend: is not that as it should be? Why, your proposal, if she agreed +to it, what would be the result? You would stab her with remorse. For +this momentary slight you would say, 'See, I have killed myself. Learn +now that Calabressa loved you.' But that would be very like revenge, my +Calabressa; and you ought not to think of taking revenge on the daughter +of Natalie Berezolyi." + +"Your Excellency--" + +Calabressa was about to protest: but he was stopped. + +"Leave it to me, my friend. The day after to-morrow we shall have more +leisure. Meanwhile, no more thoughts of quixotism. _Addio!_" + + + + +CHAPTER LVIII. + +A SACRIFICE. + + +It would be difficult to say whether Calabressa was altogether sincere +in claiming to become the substitute for Ferdinand Lind, or whether he +was not practising a little self-deception, and pacifying his wounded +pride and affection by this outburst of generosity, while secretly +conscious that his offer would not be accepted. However, what Calabressa +had declared himself ready to do, in a fit of wild sentimentalism, +another had already done, in terrible earnest. A useless life had +suddenly become ennobled by a tragic and self-sacrificing death. + +Two days after Lord Evelyn left for Naples, Brand and Gathorne Edwards +were as usual in the chambers in Lisle Street, and, the business of the +morning being mostly over, they were chatting together. There was a +brighter look on George Brand's face than there had been there for many +a day. + +"What an indefatigable fellow that Molyneux is!" Edwards was saying. + +"It is a good thing some one can do something," Brand answered. "As for +me, I can't settle down to anything. I feel as if I had been living on +laughing-gas these last two days. I feel as if I had come alive again +into another world, and was a little bit bewildered just as yet. +However, I suppose we shall get shaken into our new positions by-and-by; +and the sooner they let us know their final arrangements the better." + +"As for me," said Edwards, carelessly, "now that I have left the Museum +I don't care where I may have to go." + +At this moment a note was brought in by the old German, and handed to +Edwards. He glanced at the straggling, almost illegible, address in +pencil on the dirty envelope. + +"Well, this is too bad," he said, impatiently. + +"What is it?" + +"That fellow Kirski. He is off again. I can see by his writing. He never +was very good at it; but this is the handwriting of delirium tremens." + +He opened the letter, and glanced at the first page. + +"Oh yes," he said, in disgust, "he's off again, clearly." + +"What does he say?" + +"The usual rigmarole--only not quite so legible. The beautiful angel +who was so kind to him--he has taken her portrait from its +hiding-place--it is sacred now--no more public house--well, it looks +rather as if he had been to several." + +At this point, however, Edwards's pale, high forehead flushed a little. + +"I wish I had not told him; but he speaks of Miss Lind being in +trouble--and he says God never meant one so beautiful and kind as she to +be in trouble--and if her father--" + +His face grew grave. + +"What is this?" + +He turned the leaf suddenly, and glanced at the remainder of the letter. + +"Good God! what does the man mean? What has he done?" he exclaimed. + +His face was quite pale. The letter dropped from his hands. Then he +jumped to his feet. + +"Come, Brand--quick--quick!" he said, hurriedly. "You must come with +me--" + +"But what is the matter?" Brand said, following him in amazement. + +"I don't know," said Edwards, almost incoherently. "He may be raving--it +may only be drunkenness--but he says he is about to kill himself in +place of Lind: the young lady shall not be troubled--she was kind to +him, and he is grateful. I am to send her a message." + +By this time the two friends were hurrying to the dingy little +thoroughfare in which Kirski had his lodgings. + +"Don't alarm yourself, Edwards," said Brand; "he has broken out again, +that is all." + +"I am not so sure. He was at his work yesterday, and sober enough." + +"His brain may have given way, then; it was never very strong. But these +continual ravings about murder or suicide are dangerous; they will +develop into homicidal mania, most likely; and if he cannot get at his +enemy Michaieloff he may do a mischief to somebody else." + +"I hope he has not done a mischief to himself already," said Edwards, +who had had more opportunities than his companion of studying the +workings of Kirski's disordered brain. + +They reached the house and knocked at the door. The landlady made her +appearance. + +"Is Kirski in the house?" Edwards asked, eagerly. + +"No, he ain't," she said, with but scant courtesy. + +"Thank God!" he exclaimed, in great relief. "You are sure? He went out +to his work as usual?" + +"How should I know?" said the woman, who was evidently not on good terms +with her lodger. + +"He had his breakfast as usual?" + +"His breakfast!" she said scornfully. "No, he hadn't. He may pick up his +breakfast about the streets, like a cat; but he don't have any 'ere. And +a cat he is, sneaking up and down the stairs: how do I know whether he +is in the house or whether he ain't?" + +At this Edwards turned pale again with a sudden fear. Brand interposed. + +"You don't know? Then show us his room; we will see for ourselves." + +He passed the woman, leaving her to shut the door, and went into the +small dark passage, waiting for her at the foot of the stairs. Grumbling +to herself, she came along to show them the way. It did not pay her to +waste her time like this, she said, for a lodger who took no food in the +house, and spent his earnings in the gin-shop. She should not be +surprised if they were to find him asleep at that time of the day. He +had ways like a cat. + +The landing they reached was as dark as the staircase; so that when she +turned a handle and flung a door open there was a sudden glare of light. +At the same moment she uttered a shrill scream, and retreated backward. +She had caught a glimpse of some horrible thing--she hardly knew what. +It was the body of the man Kirski lying prone upon the uncarpeted floor, +his hands clinched. There was a dark pool of blood beside him. + +Edwards sunk shuddering into a chair, sick and faint. He could neither +move nor speak; he dared hardly look at the object lying there in the +wan light. But Brand went quickly forward, and took hold of one of these +clinched hands. It was quite cold. He tried to turn over the body, but +relinquished that effort. The cause of death was obvious enough. Kirski +had stabbed himself with one of the tools used in his trade; either he +had deliberately lain down on the floor to make sure of driving the +weapon home, or he had accidentally fallen so after dealing himself the +fatal blow. Apparently he had been dead for some hours. + +Brand rose. The landlady at the door was alternately screaming and +sobbing; declaring that she was ruined; that not another lodger would +come to her house. + +"Be quiet, woman, and send to the police-station at once," Brand said. +"Wait a moment: when did you last see this man?" + +"This morning, sir--early this morning, sir," said she, in a profusion +of tears over her prospective loss. "He came down-stairs with a letter +in his hand, and there was twopence for my little boy to take it when he +came home from school. How should I know he had gone back, sir, to make +away with himself like that, and ruin a poor widow woman, sir?" + +"Have you a servant in the house?" + +"No sir; no one but myself--and me dependent--" + +"Then go at once to the police-station, and tell the inspector on duty +what has happened. You can do that, can't you? You will do no good by +standing crying there, or getting the neighbors in. I will stop here +till you come back." + +She went away, leaving Brand and his paralyzed companion with this +ghastly object lying prone on the floor. + +"Poor devil!" Brand said; "his troubles are at an end now. I wonder +whether I should lift him on to the bed, or wait until they come." + +Then another thought struck him: and he turned quickly to his companion, +who sat there horrified and helpless. + +"Edwards," said he, "you must pull yourself together. The police will +ask you what you know about this affair. Then you will have to give +evidence before the coroner's inquest. There is nothing material for you +to conceal; but still, no mention must be made of Lisle Street, do you +understand?" + +Edwards nodded. His face was of a ghastly white. Then he rose and said, + +"Let us go somewhere else, Brand." + +His companion took him down-stairs into the landlady's parlor, and got +him a glass of water. Apparently there was not a human being in the +house but themselves. + +"Do you understand, Edwards? Give your private address--not Lisle +Street. Then you can tell the story simply enough: that unfortunate +fellow came all the way from Russia--virtually a maniac--you can tell +them his story if you like; or shall I?" + +"Yes, yes. It has been too much for me, Brand. You see, I had no +business to tell him about Lind--" + +"The poor wretch would have ended his days miserably anyhow, no doubt in +a mad-house, and probably after killing some quite innocent person. +By-the-way, they will ask you how you came to suspect. Where is that +letter?" + +Edwards took it from his pocket. + +"Tear it up." + +He did so; but Brand took the fragments and put them in his own pocket. + +"You can tell them he wrote to you, and from the madness of the letter +you thought something was wrong. You destroyed the letter. But where is +Natalie's portrait?--that must not fall into their hands." + +He instantly went up-stairs again, leaving his companion alone. There +was something strange in his entering this room where the corpse lay; it +seemed necessary for him to walk on tiptoe: he uncovered his head. A +glance round the almost empty room speedily showed him what he wanted; +there was a small wooden casket in a dusky corner by the window, and +that, he made no doubt, was the box the unhappy Kirski had made to +contain Natalie's portrait, and that he had quite recently dug out from +its place of concealment. Brand was surprised, however, to find the +casket empty. Then he glanced at the fireplace; there was a little dust +there, as of burnt card-board. Then he made sure that Kirski himself had +taken steps to prevent the portrait falling into alien hands. + +Beside the box, however, lay a piece of paper, written over in pencil. +He took it up and made out it was chiefly ill-spelled Italian: +"_Whatever punishment may be decreed against any Officer, Companion, or +Friend of the Society, may be vicariously borne by any other Officer, +Companion, or Friend, who, of his own full and free consent, acts as +substitute--the original offender becoming thereby redeemed, acquitted, +and released._" Then followed some words which he could not make out at +all. + +He carried the paper down-stairs. + +"He appears to have burnt the photograph, Edwards; but he has left +this--see." + +Edwards glanced at the trembling scrawl with a slight shiver; the +handwriting was the same as that he had received half an hour before. + +"It is only Article V.," he said. "The poor fellow used to keep +repeating that, after Calabressa and I taught him in Venice." + +"But what is written below?" + +Edwards forced himself to take the paper in his hands, and to scan more +carefully its contents. + +"It is Russian," he said, "but so badly written. '_My life is not +endurable longer, but I shall die happy in being of service to the +beautiful angel who was kind to me. Tell her she need not be in trouble +any more. I forgive Pavel Michaieloff, as my masters desire. I do not +wish my wife or my neighbors to know what I have done._'" + +"This we have no right to meddle with," Brand said, thoughtfully. "I +will put it back where I got it. But you see, Edwards, you will have to +admit that you were aware this poor wretch was in communication with +some secret society or other. Further than that you need say nothing. +The cause of his suicide is clear enough; the man was mad when he came +to England with that wild craving for revenge in his brain." + +Brand carried the paper up-stairs again, and placed it where he had +found it. At the same moment there was a sound of footsteps below; and +presently the police-officers, accompanied by the landlady and by +Gathorne Edwards, who had somewhat recovered his composure, entered to +hold their preliminary investigation. The notes that the inspector took +down in his pocket-book were brief enough, and were mostly answers to +questions addressed to Brand, regarding what he knew of the deceased +man's circumstances. The police-surgeon had meanwhile had the body +placed on the bed; he also was of opinion that the man had been dead +some hours. Edwards translated for the inspector the writing on the +paper found lying there, and said he believed Kirski had some connection +with a secret society, but that it was obvious he had destroyed himself +from despair; and that, indeed, the unhappy man had never been properly +right in his mind since ever he had known him, though they had hoped, by +getting him to do steady work and sure wages, to wean him away from +brooding over the wrongs that had driven him from his native country. +Edwards gave the officer his address, Brand saying that he had to leave +England that same night, and would not be available for any further +inquiry, but that his friend knew precisely as much about the case as +himself. Then he and his companion left. + +Edwards breathed more freely when he got out of the house, even into the +murky atmosphere of Soho. + +"It is a tragic end," he said, "but perhaps it is the best that could +have befallen him. I called yesterday at the shop, and found he was +there, and sober, though I did not see him. I was surprised to find he +had gone back." + +"I thought he had solemnly promised you not to drink any more," Brand +said. + +"He had made the same promises before. He took to drink merely to +forget--to drown this thing that was working in his brain. If he had +lived, it would have been the old story over again. He would have buried +the portrait in St. James's Park, as he did before, gone back to the +gin-shop, and in course of time drank himself to death. This end is +terrible enough, but there is a touch of something fine about it--it +redeems much. What a worship the poor fellow had for Miss Lind, to be +sure; because she was kind to him when he was half mad with his wrongs. +I remember he used to go about the churches in Venice to see if any of +the saints in the pictures were like her, but none satisfied him. You +will send her a message of what he has done to repay her at last?" + +"I will take it myself," said Brand, hastily. "I must go, Edwards. You +must get ---- or ---- to come to these chambers--any one you may think of. +I must go myself, and at once." + +"To-night, then?" + +"Yes, to-night. It is a pity I troubled Evelyn to go." + +"He would stay a day, perhaps two days, in Genoa. It is just possible +you might overtake him by going straight through." + +"Yes," said Brand, with a strange smile on his face, as if he were +looking at something far away, and it was scarcely to his companion that +he spoke, "I think I will go straight through. I should not like any one +but myself to take Natalie this news." + +They walked back to the chambers, and Brand began to put things in order +for his going. + +"It is rather a shame," he said, during this business, "for one to be +glad that this poor wretch has come to such an end; but what better +could have happened to him, as you say? You will see about a decent +funeral, Edwards; and I will leave you something to stop the mouth of +that caterwauling landlady. You can tell them at the inquest that he has +no relations in this country." + +By-and-by he said, + +"If there are any debts, I will pay them; and if no one has any +objection I should like to have that casket, to show to--to Miss Lind. +Did you see the carving on it?" + +"I looked at it." + +"He must have spent many a night working at that. Poor wretch, I wish I +had looked after him more, and done more for him. One always feels that +when people are dead, and it is too late." + +"I don't see how you could have done more for him," Edwards said, +honestly enough: though indeed it was he himself who had been Kirski's +chief protector of late. + +Before evening came Brand had put affairs in proper trim for his +departure, and he left London with a lighter heart than had been his for +a long time. But ever and anon, as he journeyed to the south, with a +wonderful picture of joy and happiness before him, his mind would wander +away back to the little room in Soho, and he could see the unhappy +Russian lying dead, with the message left behind for the beautiful angel +who had been kind to him; and he could not but think that Kirski would +have died happier if he had known that Natalie herself would come some +day and put flowers, tenderly and perhaps even with tears, on his grave. +Who that knew her could doubt but that that would be her first act on +returning to England? At least, Brand thought so. + + + + +CHAPTER LIX. + +NATALIE SPEAKS. + + +It was about five in the morning, and as yet dark, when George Brand +arrived in Naples. He wrote a note asking Calabressa to call on him, and +left it to be despatched by the porter of the hotel; then he lay down +for an hour or two, without undressing, for he was somewhat fatigued +with his continuous travelling. + +On going down to breakfast he got Calabressa's answer, saying he was +very sorry he could not obey the commands of his dear friend Monsieur +Brand, because he was on duty; but that he could be found, if Monsieur +Brand would have the goodness to seek out the wine-vaults of one +Tommaso, in the Vicolo Isotta. There, also, Monsieur Brand would see +some others. + +Accordingly, after breakfast Brand set out, leisurely and observantly, +for he did not think there was any great hurry. It was a beautiful, +brisk, breezy morning, though occasionally a squall of rain swept across +the roughened sea, blotting out Capri altogether. There were crisp +gleams of white on the far plain, and there was a dazzling mist of +sunlight and sea-foam where the waves sprung high on the rocks of the +citadel; and even here in the busy streets there was a fresh sea-odor as +the gusts of the damp wind blew along. Naples was alive and busy, but +Brand regarded this swarming population with but little interest. He +knew that none of his friends would be out and abroad so early. + +In due time he found out the gloomy little court and the wine-vaults. +Moreover, he had no trouble with the ghoul-like Tommaso, who had +apparently received his instructions. No sooner had Brand inquired for +Calabressa than he was invited to follow his guide, who waddled along, +candle in hand, like some over-grown orang-outang. At length they +reached the staircase, where there was a little more light, and here he +found Calabressa waiting to receive him. Calabressa seemed overjoyed. + +"Yes, yes, my dear Monsieur Brand, you have arrived opportunely. You +also will remonstrate with that beautiful child for having fallen out +with her old friend Calabressa. Think of it! one who would wear his +knees out to serve her; and when I go to the hotel--" + +"One word, Calabressa," said Brand, as he followed him into a small +empty room. "Tell me, is Lind in Naples?" + +"Assuredly. He has petitioned for a year's grace: he wishes to join the +Montenegrins." + +"He will have more than a year's grace," said Brand, gravely. "Something +has happened. You remember the man Kirski? Well, he has killed himself +to release Lind." + +"Just Heaven!" Calabressa exclaimed; but the exclamation was one of +astonishment, not in the least of regret. On the contrary, he began to +speak in tones of exultation. + +"Ah, let us hear now what the beautiful child will say! For who was it +that reclaimed that savage animal, and taught him the beautifulness of +self-sacrifice, and showed him how the most useless life could be made +serviceable and noble? Who but I? He was my pupil: I first watched the +light of virtue beginning to radiate through his savage nature. That is +what I will ask the beautiful Natalushka when I see her. Perhaps she +will not again turn away from an old friend--" + +"You seem to forget, Calabressa, that your teaching has brought this man +to his death," Brand said. + +"Why not?" said Calabressa, with a perfectly honest stare. "Why not? Was +it not well done? Was it not a fitting end? Why I, even I, who watched +him long, did not expect to see that: his savagery falling away from him +bit by bit; himself rising to this grand height, that he should give his +life to save another: I tell you it is a beautiful thing; he has +understood what I taught him; he has seen clear." + +Calabressa was much excited, and very proud. It seemed to him that he +had saved a soul as he remarked in his ornate French. + +"Perhaps it has all happened for the best," Brand said; "perhaps it was +the best that could have befallen that poor devil, too. But you are +mistaken, Calabressa, about his reasons for giving up his life like +that. It was not for the sake of a theory at all, admirable as your +teachings may have been; it was for the sake of Natalie Lind. He heard +she was in trouble, and he learned the cause of it. It was gratitude to +her--it was love for her--that made him do this." + +Calabressa changed his ground in an instant. + +"Assuredly--assuredly, my dear friend: do you think I fail to understand +that--I, who perceived that he worshipped that beautiful child as if she +were a saint, and more than all the saints--do you think I cannot mark +that--the sentiment of love, the fervor of worship, growing brighter and +purer day by day until it burst into the beautiful flame of +self-sacrifice? My faith! this must be told at once. Remain here a few +moments, my dear Mr. Brand. This is news indeed." + +"Wait a bit, Calabressa. I came to you to get the name of Natalie's +hotel: and where is Lord Evelyn?" + +"One moment--one moment," said the old albino, as he went out and shut +the door behind him. + +When Calabressa ceased to talk in French, he ceased to use roundabout +literary sentimental metaphors; and his report, delivered in the next +room, would appear to have been brief enough; for almost immediately he +returned, accompanied by Von Zoesch, to whom Brand was introduced. + +"I am honored in making your acquaintance," the tall soldier said, in a +pleasant way. "I have heard much of you; you are a good worker; likewise +you do not flinch when a duty is demanded of you. Perhaps, if you would +only condescend to re-enforce the treasury sometimes, the Council would +be still further grateful to you. However, we are not to become beggars +at a first interview--and that a short one, necessarily--for to-day we +start for Genoa." + +"I am sorry for that," Brand said, simply. "There were some +representations I wished to lay before the Council--some very serious +representations." + +"Perhaps some other time, then. In the meanwhile, our hands are full. +And that reminds me that the news you bring makes one of my tasks to-day +a pleasant one. Yes, I remember something of that maniac-fellow babbling +about a saint and an angel--I heard of it. So it was your beautiful Miss +Lind who was the saint and the angel? Well, do you know that I was +about to give that young lady a very good scolding to-day?" + +Brand flushed quickly. The authority of the Council had no terrors for +him where Natalie was concerned. + +"I beg to remind you," he said, respectfully but firmly, "that the fact +of Miss Lind's father being connected with the Society gives no one the +right to intermeddle in her private affairs--" + +"Oh, but, my dear sir," said Von Zoesch laughing. "I have ample right. +Her mother Natalie and I are very old friends indeed. You have not seen +the charming young lady, then, since your arrival?" + +"No." + +"Excellent--excellent! You shall come and hear the scolding I have to +give her. Oh, I assure you it will not harm her much. Calabressa will +bring you along to the Villa Odelschalchi, eleven sharp. We must not +keep a lady--two ladies, indeed--waiting, after making an appointment." + +He rose from the plain wooden chair on which he had been sitting; and +his visitor had to rise also. But Brand stood reluctant to go, and his +brows were drawn down. + +"I beg your pardon," said he, "but if you are so busy, why not depute +some friend of the young lady to carry her a message? A girl is easily +frightened." + +"No, no, my dear sir; having made an appointment, must we not keep it? +Come, I shall expect you to make one of the party; it will be a pleasant +little comedy before we go to more serious matters. _Au revoir!_" He +bowed slightly, and withdrew. + +Some little time afterward Brand, Evelyn, and Calabressa were driving +along the rough streets in an open carriage. The presence of Lord Evelyn +had been a last concession obtained from General von Zoesch by +Calabressa. + +"Why not?" Von Zoesch had said, good-naturedly; "he is one of us. +Besides, there is nothing of importance at Portici. It is a little +family party; it is a little comedy before we go to Genoa." + +As they rattled along, Lord Evelyn was very talkative and joyous. He had +seen Natalie the evening before, within an hour after his arrival. He +was laughing at Brand for fearing she might have been induced to go to +some wretched inn. + +"I myself, did I not say to you it was a beautiful hotel?" said +Calabressa, with a hurt air. "The most beautiful view in Naples." + +"I think, after what she will hear to-day," said Evelyn, "she ought to +ask us to dine there. That would be an English way of finishing up all +her trials and troubles." But he turned to Calabressa with a graver +look. "What about Lind? Will they reinstate him now? Will they send him +back to England?" + +"Reinstate him in office?" said Calabressa, with a scornful smile. "My +faith, no! Neither him nor Beratinsky. They will give them letters to +Montenegro: isn't it enough?" + +"Well, I think so. And Reitzei?" + +"Reitzei has been stationed at Brindisi--one of our moral police; and +lucky for him also." + +When they arrived at the Villa Odelschalchi they were shown into a +little anteroom where they found Granaglia, and he was introduced to the +two strangers. + +"Who have come?" Calabressa said, in a low voice. + +The little sallow-faced Secretary smiled. + +"Several Brothers of the Council," he said. "They wish to see this young +lady who has turned so many heads. You, for example, my Calabressa, are +mad with regard to her. Well, they pay her a compliment. It is the first +time any woman has been in the presence of the Council." + +At this moment Von Zoesch came in, and hastily threw aside his +travelling-cloak. + +"Come, my friends," said he, and he took them with him, leaving +Granaglia to receive the ladies when they should arrive. + +The lofty and spacious apartment they now entered, on the other side of +the corridor, was apparently one of a suite of rooms facing the sea. Its +walls were decorated in Pompeian fashion, with simulated trellis-work, +and plenty of birds, beasts, and fishes about; but the massive curtains +and spreading chandeliers were all covered over as if the house had not +been inhabited for some time. All that was displayed of the furniture of +the chambers were some chairs of blue satin, with white and gold backs +and legs; and these looked strange enough, seeing that they were placed +irregularly round an oblong, rough deal table, which looked as if it had +just come from the workshop of some neighboring carpenter. At or near +this table several men, nearly all elderly, were sitting, talking +carelessly to each other; one of them, indeed, at the farthermost +corner, was a venerable patriarch, who wore a large soft wide-awake over +his snow-white hair. At the head of the table sat the handsome, +pale-faced, Greek-looking man who has been mentioned as one Conventz. He +was writing a letter, but stopped when Brand and Evelyn were introduced +to him. Then Calabressa drew in some more of the gilt and blue chairs, +and they sat down close by. + +Brand kept anxiously looking toward the door. He had not long to wait. +When it opened, Granaglia appeared, conducting into the room two figures +dressed in black. These dark figures looked impressive in the great, +white, empty room. + +For a second Natalie stood bewildered and irresolute, seeing all these +faces turned to her; and when her eyes fell on her lover, she turned +deadly pale. But she went forward, along with her mother, to the two +chairs brought for them by Granaglia, and they sat down. The mother was +veiled. Natalie glanced at her lover again; there was a strange look in +his face, but not of pain or fear. + +"My dear young lady," said Von Zoesch, in his pleasantest way, "we have +nothing but good news to communicate to you, so you must not be alarmed. +You are among friends. We are going away to-day; we all wish to say +good-bye to you, and wish you a happy journey back to England; that is +all. But I will tell you that my first object in asking you to come here +was to give you a good rating; when you and I should have been alone +together I would have asked you if you had no consideration for old +friends, that you should have turned away from my colleague, Calabressa, +and wounded him grievously. I would have reminded you that it was not +he, but you yourself, who put the machinery in motion which secured your +father's righteous conviction." + +"I ask you to spare me, signore," the girl said, in a low and trembling +voice. + +"Oh, I am not now going to scold you, my dear young lady. I intended to +have done so. I intended to have shown you that you were wrong, and +exceedingly ungrateful, and that you ought to ask pardon of my friend +Calabressa. However, it is all changed. You need not fear him any more; +you need not turn away from him. Your father is pardoned, and free!" + +She looked up, uncertain, as if she had not heard aright. + +"I repeat: your father is pardoned, and free. You shall learn how and +why afterward. Meanwhile you have nothing before you, as I take it, but +to reap the reward of your bravery." + +She did not hear this last sentence. She had turned quickly to her +mother. + +"Mother, do you hear?" she said in a whisper. + +"Yes, yes, child: thank God!" + +"Now, you see, my dear young lady," Von Zoesch continued, "it is not a +scolding, but good news I have given you; and nothing remains but that +you should bid us good-bye, and say you are not sorry you appealed to us +when you were in trouble, according to the advice of your good friend +Calabressa. See, I have brought here with me a gentleman whom you know, +and who will see you safe back to Naples, and to England; and another, +his companion, who is also, I understand, an old friend of yours: you +will have a pleasant party. Your father will be sent to join in a good +cause, where he may retrieve his name if he chooses; you and your +friends go back to England. So I may say that all your wishes are +gratified at last, and we have nothing now but to say good-bye!" + +The girl had been glancing timidly and nervously at the figures grouped +round the table, and her breast was heaving. She rose; perhaps it was to +enable herself to speak more freely; perhaps it was only out of +deference to those seated there. + +"No," she said, in a low voice, but it was heard clearly enough in the +silence. "I--I would say a word to you--whom I may not see again. Yes, I +thank you--from my heart; you have taken a great trouble away from my +life. I--I thank you; but there is something I would say." + +She paused for a second. She was very pale. She seemed to be nerving +herself for some effort; and, strangely enough, her mother's hand, +unseen, was stretched up to her, and she clasped it and held it tight. +It gave her courage. + +"It is true, I am only a girl; you are my elders, and you are men; but I +have known good and brave men who were not ashamed to listen to what a +woman thought was right; and it is as a woman that I speak to you," she +said; and her voice, low and timid as it was, had a strange, pathetic +vibration in it, that went to the heart. "I have suffered much of late. +I hope no other woman will ever suffer in the same way." + +Again she hesitated, but for the last time. + +"Oh, gentlemen, you who are so powerful, you who profess to seek only +mercy and justice and peace, why should you, also, follow the old, bad, +cruel ways, and stain yourselves with blood? Surely it is not for you, +the friends of the poor, the champions of the weak, the teachers of the +people, to rely on the weapon of the assassin! When you go to the world, +and seek for help and labor, surely you should go with clean hands--so +that the wives and the sisters and the daughters of those who may join +you may not have their lives made terrible to them. It is not a reign +of terror you would establish on the earth! For the sake of those who +have already joined you--for the sake of the far greater numbers who may +yet be your associates--I implore you to abandon these secret and +dreadful means. Surely, gentlemen, the blessing of Heaven is more likely +to follow you and crown your work if you can say to every man whom you +ask to join you, 'You have women-folk around you. They have tender +consciences, perhaps; but we will ask of you nothing that your sister or +your wife or your daughter would not approve.' Then good men will not be +afraid of you; then brave men will not have to stifle their conscience +in serving you; and whether you succeed or do not succeed, you will have +walked in clear ways." + +Her mother felt that she was trembling; but her voice did not +tremble--beyond that pathetic thrill in it which was always there when +she was deeply moved. + +"I have to beg your pardon, sir," she said, addressing herself more +particularly to Von Zoesch, but scarcely daring to lift her eyes. +"But--but do not think that, when you have made everything smooth for a +woman's happiness, she can then think only of herself. She also may +think a little about others; and even with those who are nearest and +dearest to her, how can she bear to know that perhaps they may be +engaged in something dark and hidden, something terrible--not because it +involves danger but because it involves shame? Gentlemen, if you choose, +you can do this. I appeal to you. I implore you. If you do not seek the +co-operation of women--well, that is a light matter; you have our +sympathy and love and gratitude--at least you can pursue ways and means +of which women can approve; ways and means of which no one, man or +woman, needs be ashamed. How otherwise are you what you profess to +be--the lovers of what is just and true and merciful?" + +She sat down, still all trembling. She held her mother's hand. There was +a murmur of sympathy and admiration. + +Brand turned to Von Zoesch, and said, in a low voice, + +"You hear, sir? These are the representations I had wished to lay before +the Council. I have not a word to add." + +"We will consider by-and-by," said Von Zoesch, rising. "It is not a +great matter. Come to me in Genoa as you pass through." + +But the tall old gentleman with the long white hair had already risen +and gone round to where the girl sat, and put his hand on her shoulder. + +"My noble child, you have spoken well," said he, in a quavering, feeble +voice, "Forgive me that I come so near; my eyes are very weak now; and +you--you do not recognize me any more?" + +"Anton!" said the mother. + +"Child," said he, still addressing Natalie, "it is old Anton Pepczinski +who is speaking to you. But you are disturbed; and I have greatly +changed, no doubt. No matter. I have travelled a long way to bring you +my blessing, and I give it to you now: I shall not see you again in this +world. You were always brave and good; be that to the end; God has given +you a noble soul." + +She looked up, and something in her face told him that she had +recognized him, despite the changes time had made. + +"Yes, yes," he said, in great delight; "you remember now that you used +to bring me tobacco for my pipe, and ask if I would fight for your +country; I can see it in your eyes, my child: you remember, then, the +old Anton Pepczinski who used to bring you sweet things? Now come and +take me to the English gentleman; I wish to speak to him. Tell me, does +he love you--does he understand you?" + +She was silent, and embarrassed. + +"No! you will not speak?" the old man said, laughing; "you cast your +eyes down again. See, now, how one changes! for in former days you made +love openly enough--oh yes!--to me, to me myself--oh, my dear, I can +remember. I can remember very well. I am not so old that I cannot +remember." + +Brand rose when he saw them coming. She regarded him earnestly for a +brief second or two, and said something to him in English in an +undertone, not understood by those standing round. + + + + +CHAPTER LX. + +NEW SHORES. + + +The moonlight lay on the moving Atlantic, and filled the hollow world +with a radiance soft and gray and vague; but it struck sharp and white +on the polished rails and spars of this great steamer, and shone on the +long and shapely decks, and on the broad track of foam that went away +back and back and back until it was lost in the horizon. It was late; +and nearly all the passengers had gone below. In the silence there was +only heard the monotonous sound of the engines, and the continuous rush +and seething of the waters as the huge vessel clove its way onward. + +Out there by the rail, in the white light, Natalie Lind lay back in her +chair, all wrapped up in furs, and her lover was by her side, on a rug +on the deck, his hand placed over her hand. + +"To-morrow, then, Natalie," he was saying, "you will get your first +glimpse of America." + +"So you see I have procured your banishment after all," she said, with a +smile. + +"Not you," was the answer. "I had thought of it often. For a new life, a +new world; and it is a new life you and I are beginning together." + +Here the bell in the steering-room struck the half-hour; it was repeated +by the lookout forward. The sound was strange, in the silence. + +"Do you know," he said, after a while, "after we have done a fair share +of work, we might think ourselves entitled to rest; and what better +could we do than go back to England for a time, and go down to the old +place in Buckinghamshire? Then Mrs. Alleyne would be satisfied at last. +How proud the old dame was when she recognized you from your portrait! +She thought all her dreams had come true, and that there was nothing +left but to the Checkers and carry off that old cabinet as a wedding +present." + +"Natalie," he said, presently, "how is it that you always manage to do +the right thing at the right time? When Mrs. Alleyne took your mother +and you in to the Checkers, and old Mrs. Diggles led you into her parlor +and dusted the table with her apron, what made you think of asking her +for a piece of cake and a cup of tea?" + +"My dearest, I saw the cake in the bar!" she exclaimed. + +"I believe the old woman was ready to faint with delight when you +praised her currant-wine, and asked how she made it. You have a +wonderful way of getting round people--whether by fair means or +otherwise I don't know. Do you think if it had been anybody else but you +who went to Von Zoesch in Genoa, he would have let Calabressa come with +us to America?" + +"Poor old Calabressa!" she said, laughing; "he is very brave now about +the sea; but he was terribly frightened that bad night we had after +leaving Queenstown." + +Here some one appeared in the dusky recess at the top of the +companion-stairs, and stepped out into the open. + +"Are you people never coming below at all?" he said. "I have to inform +you, Miss Natalie, with your mamma's compliments, that she can't get on +with her English verbs because of that fat girl playing Strauss; and +that she is going to her cabin, and wants to know when you are coming." + +"Now, at once," said Natalie, getting up out of her chair. "But wait a +moment, Evelyn: I cannot go without bidding good-night to Calabressa. +Where is Calabressa?" + +"Calabressa! Oh, in the smoking-room, betting like mad, and going in for +all the mock-auctions. I expect some of them will sit up all night to +get their first sight of the land. The pilot expects that will be +shortly after daybreak." + +"You will be in time for that, Natalie, won't you?" Brand asked. + +"Oh yes. Good-night, Evelyn!" and she gave him her hand. + +Brand went with her down the companion-stairs, carrying her rugs and +shawls. In the corridor she turned to bid him good-night also. + +"Dearest," she said, in a low voice, "do you know what I have been +trying all day--to get you to say one word, the smallest word, of +regret?" + +"But if I have no regret whatever, how can I express any?" + +"Sure?" + +He laughed, and kissed her. + +"Good-night, my darling!" + +"Good-night; God bless you!" + +Then he made his way along the gloomy corridor again and up the broad +zinc steps, and out into the moonlight. Evelyn was there, leaning with +his arms on the hand-rail, and idly watching, far below, the gleams of +light on the gray-black waves. + +"It is too fine a night to go below," he said. "What do you say, +Brand--shall we wait up for the daylight and the first glimpse of +America?" + +"If you like," said Brand, taking out his cigar-case, and hauling along +the chair in which Natalie had been sitting. + +They had the whole of this upper deck to themselves, except when one or +other of the officers passed on his rounds. They could talk without risk +of being overheard: and they had plenty to talk about--of all that had +happened of late, of all that might happen to them in this new country +they were nearing. + +"Well," he said, "Evelyn, that settlement in Genoa clinched everything, +as far as I am concerned. I have no longer any doubt, any hesitation: +there is nothing to be concealed now--nothing to be withheld, even from +those who are content to remain merely as our friends. One might have +gone on as before; for, after all, these death-penalties only attached +to the officers; and the great mass of the members, not being touched by +them, need have known nothing about them. But it is better now." + +"It was Natalie's appeal that settled that," Lord Evelyn said, as he +still watched the shining waves. + +"The influence of that girl is extraordinary. One could imagine that +some magnetism radiated from her; or perhaps it is her voice, and her +clear faith, and her enthusiasm. When she said something to old Anton +Pepczinski, on bidding him good-bye--not about herself, or about him, +but about what some of us were hoping for--he was crying like a child! +In other times she might have done great things: she might have led +armies." + +By-and-by he said, + +"As for those decrees, what use were they? From all I could learn, only +ten have been issued since the Society was in existence; and eight of +those were for the punishment of officers, who ought merely to have been +expelled. Of course you will get people like Calabressa, with a touch of +theatrical-mindedness, who have a love for the terrorism such a thing +can produce. But what use is it? It is not by striking down an +individual here or there that you can help on any wide movement; and +this great organization, that I can see in the future will have other +things to do than take heed of personal delinquencies--except in so far +as to purge out from itself unworthy members--its action will affect +continents, not persons." + +"You can see that--you believe that, Brand?" Lord Evelyn, said, turning +and regarding him. + +"Yes, I think so," he answered, without enthusiasm, but with simple +sincerity. Presently he said, "You remember, Evelyn, the morning we +turned out of the little inn on the top of the Niessen, to see the sun +rise over the Bernese Alps?" + +"I remember it was precious cold," said Lord Evelyn, almost with a +shiver. + +"You remember, when we got to the highest point, we looked down into the +great valleys, where the lakes and the villages were, and there it was +still night under the heavy clouds. But before us, where the peaks of +the Jungfrau, and the Wetterhorn, and the rest of them rose into the +clear sky, there was a curious faint light that showed the day was +coming. And we waited and watched, and the light grew stronger, and all +sorts of colors began to show along the peaks. That was the sunrise. But +down in the valleys everything was misty and dark and cold--everything +asleep; the people there could see nothing of the new day we were +looking at. And so I suppose it is with us now. We are looking ahead. We +see, or fancy we see, the light before the others; but, sooner or later, +they will see it also, for the sunrise is bound to come." + +They continued talking, and they paced up and down the decks, while the +half-hours and hours were struck by the bells. The moon was declining to +the horizon. Long ago the last of the revellers had left the +smoking-room, and there was nothing to interrupt the stillness but the +surge of the waters. + +Then again-- + +"Have you noticed Natalie's mother of late? It is a pleasure to watch +the poor woman's face; she seems to drink in happiness by merely looking +at her daughter; every time that Natalie laughs you can see her mother's +eyes brighten." + +"I have noticed a great change in Natalie herself," Evelyn said. "She is +looking younger; she has lost that strange, half-apprehensive expression +of the eyes; and she seems to be in excellent spirits. Calabressa is +more devotedly her slave than ever." + +"You should have seen him when Von Zoesch told him to pack up and be off +to America." + +By-and-by he said, + +"You know, Evelyn, if you can't stay in America with us altogether--and +that would be too much to expect--don't say anything as yet to Natalie +about your going back. She has the notion that our little colony is to +be founded as a permanency." + +"Oh, I am in no hurry," said Evelyn, carelessly. "Things will get along +at home well enough without me. Didn't I tell you that, once those girls +began to go, they would go, like lightning? It is rough on Blanche, +though, that Truda should come next. By-the-way, in any case, Brand, I +must remain in America for your wedding." + +"Oh, you will, will you?" said Brand. "Then that settles one point--you +won't be going back very soon." + +"Why?" + +"Of course, Natalie and I won't marry until she is of age; that is a +good year and a half yet. Did you hear of Calabressa's mad proposal that +he should extort from Lind his consent to our marriage as the price of +the good news that he, Calabressa, had to reveal? Like him, wasn't it? +an ingenious scheme." + +"What did you say?" + +"Why, what could I say? I would not be put under any obligation to Lind +on any account whatever. We can wait; it is not a long time." + +The moonlight waned, and there was another light slowly declaring itself +in the east. The two friends continued talking, and did not notice how +that the cold blue light beyond the sea was gradually yielding to a +silver-gray. The pilot and first mate, who were on the bridge, had just +been joined by the captain. + +The silver-gray in its turn gave place to a clear yellow, and high up +one or two flakes of cloud became of a saffron-red. Then the burning +edge of the sun appeared over the waves; the world lightened; the masts +and funnels of the steamer caught the glory streaming over from the +east. The ship seemed to waken also; one or two stragglers came tumbling +up from below, rubbing their eyes, and staring strangely around them; +but as yet no land was in sight. + +The sunrise now flooded the sky and the sea; the number of those on deck +increased; and at last there was an eager passing round of binoculars, +and a murmur of eager interest. Those with sharp eyes enough could make +out, right ahead, in the midst of the pale glow of the morning, a thin +blue line of coast. + +The great steamer surged on through the sunlit waters. And now even +those who were without glasses could distinguish, here and there along +that line of pale-blue land, a touch of yellowish-white; and they +guessed that the new world there was already shining with the light of +the new day. Brand felt a timid, small hand glide into his. Natalie was +standing beside him, her beautiful black hair a trifle dishevelled, +perhaps, and her eyes still bearing traces of her having been in the +realm of dreams; but those eyes were full of tenderness, nevertheless, +as she met his look. He asked her if she could make out that strip of +coast beyond the shining waters. + +"Can you see, Natalie? It is our future home!" + +"Oh yes, I can see it," she said; "and the sunrise is there before us: +it is a happy sign." + + * * * * * + +There remains to be added only this--that about the last thing Natalie +Lind did before leaving England was to go and plant some flowers, +carefully and tenderly, on Kirski's grave; and that about the first +thing she did on landing in America was to write to Madame Potecki, +asking her to look after the little Anneli, and sending many loving +messages: for this girl--or, rather, this beautiful child, as Calabressa +would persist in calling her--had a large heart, that could hold many +affections and many memories, and that was not capable of forgetting any +one who had been kind to her. + + + THE END. + + +[Transcriber's Note: obvious printer's errors / misspellings have been +corrected, please see the HTML version for detail.] + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Sunrise, by William Black + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SUNRISE *** + +***** This file should be named 17308-8.txt or 17308-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/3/0/17308/ + +Produced by Robert Cicconetti, Michael Punch and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Sunrise + +Author: William Black + +Release Date: December 14, 2005 [EBook #17308] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SUNRISE *** + + + + +Produced by Robert Cicconetti, Michael Punch and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + +Character set for HTML: ISO-8859-1 + + +</pre> + +<!-- Page -3 --> +<div class="center"><img src="./images/cover.jpg" width="481" height="550" alt="Cover" /></div> + +<h1>SUNRISE.</h1> + + +<h4>BY</h4> + + +<h2>WILLIAM BLACK.</h2> + +<p class="center"><i>Author of "Shandon Bells," "Yolande," "Strange Adventures of a +Phaeton," "Madcap Violet" etc., etc.</i></p> + + + +<h4>NEW YORK:<br /> +JOHN B. ALDEN, PUBLISHER,<br /> +1883. +</h4> + + +<p><!-- Page -1 --></p><p><!-- Page -2 --></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> + +<p /> <!-- bizarrely, without this line, IE5 doesn't show the TOC at all!! (just a big blank) --> +<ul class="TOC"> + +<li> +<span style="font-variant: small-caps;">Chapter</span> +<span class="tocright">Page</span></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="TOC" style="list-style-type:upper-roman;margin-left:1em;"> + +<li><span> + <a href="#CHAPTER_I"> +A FIRST INTERVIEW.</a> +</span><span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></span></li> + +<li><span> + <a href="#CHAPTER_II"> +PLEADINGS.</a> +</span><span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_8">8</a></span></li> + +<li><span> + <a href="#CHAPTER_III"> +IN A HOUSE IN CURZON STREET.</a> +</span><span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_14">14</a></span></li> + +<li><span> + <a href="#CHAPTER_IV"> +A STRANGER.</a> +</span><span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_23">23</a></span></li> + +<li><span> + <a href="#CHAPTER_V"> +PIONEERS.</a> +</span><span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_29">29</a></span></li> + +<li><span> + <a href="#CHAPTER_VI"> +BON VOYAGE!</a> +</span><span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_37">37</a></span></li> + +<li><span> + <a href="#CHAPTER_VII"> +IN SOLITUDE.</a> +</span><span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_44">44</a></span></li> + +<li><span> + <a href="#CHAPTER_VIII"> +A DISCOVERY.</a> +</span><span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_51">51</a></span></li> + +<li><span> + <a href="#CHAPTER_IX"> +A NIGHT IN VENICE.</a> +</span><span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_58">58</a></span></li> + +<li><span> + <a href="#CHAPTER_X"> +VACILLATION.</a> +</span><span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_64">64</a></span></li> + +<li><span> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XI"> +A COMMISSION.</a> +</span><span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_72">72</a></span></li> + +<li><span> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XII"> +JACTA EST ALEA.</a> +</span><span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_79">79</a></span></li> + +<li><span> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XIII"> +SOUTHWARD.</a> +</span><span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_86">86</a></span></li> + +<li><span> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XIV"> +A RUSSIAN EPISODE.</a> +</span><span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_94">94</a></span></li> + +<li><span> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XV"> +NEW FRIENDS.</a> +</span><span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_101">101</a></span></li> + +<li><span> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XVI"> +A LETTER.</a> +</span><span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_108">108</a></span></li> + +<li><span> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XVII"> +CALABRESSA.</a> +</span><span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_115">115</a></span></li> + +<li><span> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII"> +HER ANSWER.</a> +</span><span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_123">123</a></span></li> + +<li><span> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XIX"> +AT THE CULTURVEREIN.</a> +</span><span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_129">129</a></span></li> + +<li><span> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XX"> +FIDELIO.</a> +</span><span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_137">137</a></span></li> + +<li><span> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XXI"> +FATHER AND DAUGHTER.</a> +</span><span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_144">144</a></span></li> + +<li><span> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XXII"> +EVASIONS.</a> +</span><span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_151">151</a></span></li> + +<li><span> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII"> +A TALISMAN.</a> +</span><span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_158">158</a></span></li> + +<li><span> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV"> +AN ALTERNATIVE.</a> +</span><span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_165">165</a></span></li> + +<li><span> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XXV"> +A FRIEND'S ADVICE.</a> +</span><span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_172">172</a></span></li> + +<li><span> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI"> +A PROMISE.</a> +</span><span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_179">179</a></span></li> + +<li><span> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII"> +KIRSKI.</a> +</span><span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_186">186</a></span></li> + +<li><span> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII"> +A CLIMAX.</a> +</span><span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_193">193</a></span></li> + +<li><span> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX"> +A GOOD-NIGHT MESSAGE.</a> +</span><span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_201">201</a></span></li> + +<li><span> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XXX"> +SOME TREASURES.</a> +</span><span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_208">208</a></span></li> + +<li><span> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI"> +IN A GARDEN AT POSILIPO.</a> +</span><span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_215">215</a></span></li> + +<li><span> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII"> +FRIEND AND SWEETHEART.</a> +</span><span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_223">223</a></span></li> +<!-- Page 0 --> + +<li><span> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII"> +INTERVENTION.</a> +</span><span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_230">230</a></span></li> + +<li><span> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIV"> +AN ENCOUNTER.</a> +</span><span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_237">237</a></span></li> + +<li><span> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XXXV"> +THE MOTHER.</a> +</span><span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_245">245</a></span></li> + +<li><span> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVI"> +THE VELVET GLOVE.</a> +</span><span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_252">252</a></span></li> + +<li><span> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVII"> +SANTA CLAUS.</a> +</span><span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_259">259</a></span></li> + +<li><span> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVIII"> +A SUMMONS.</a> +</span><span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_266">266</a></span></li> + +<li><span> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIX"> +A NEW HOME.</a> +</span><span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_274">274</a></span></li> + +<li><span> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XL"> +A CONCLAVE.</a> +</span><span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_280">280</a></span></li> + +<li><span> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XLI"> +IN THE DEEPS.</a> +</span><span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_288">288</a></span></li> + +<li><span> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XLII"> +A <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: "COMMUNICATON" in the original text"> +COMMUNICATION</ins>.</a> +</span><span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_295">295</a></span></li> + +<li><span> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XLIII"> +A QUARREL.</a> +</span><span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_302">302</a></span></li> + +<li><span> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XLIV"> +A TWICE-TOLD TALE.</a> +</span><span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_308">308</a></span></li> + +<li><span> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XLV"> +SOUTHWARD.</a> +</span><span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_316">316</a></span></li> + +<li><span> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XLVI"> +THE BEECHES.</a> +</span><span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_321">321</a></span></li> + +<li><span> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XLVII"> +AT PORTICI.</a> +</span><span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_329">329</a></span></li> + +<li><span> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XLVIII"> +AN APPEAL.</a> +</span><span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_337">337</a></span></li> + +<li><span> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XLIX"> +AN EMISSARY.</a> +</span><span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_345">345</a></span></li> + +<li><span> + <a href="#CHAPTER_L"> +A WEAK BROTHER.</a> +</span><span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_352">352</a></span></li> + +<li><span> + <a href="#CHAPTER_LI"> +THE CONJURER.</a> +</span><span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_359">359</a></span></li> + +<li><span> + <a href="#CHAPTER_LII"> +FIAT JUSTITIA.</a> +</span><span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_366">366</a></span></li> + +<li><span> + <a href="#CHAPTER_LIII"> +THE TRIAL.</a> +</span><span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_373">373</a></span></li> + +<li><span> + <a href="#CHAPTER_LIV"> +PUT TO THE PROOF.</a> +</span><span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_380">380</a></span></li> + +<li><span> + <a href="#CHAPTER_LV"> +CONGRATULATIONS.</a> +</span><span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_387">387</a></span></li> + +<li><span> + <a href="#CHAPTER_LVI"> +A COMMISSION.</a> +</span><span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_394">394</a></span></li> + +<li><span> + <a href="#CHAPTER_LVII"> +FAREWELL!</a> +</span><span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_401">401</a></span></li> + +<li><span> + <a href="#CHAPTER_LVIII"> +A SACRIFICE.</a> +</span><span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_409">409</a></span></li> + +<li><span> + <a href="#CHAPTER_LIX"> +NATALIE SPEAKS.</a> +</span><span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_416">416</a></span></li> + +<li><span> + <a href="#CHAPTER_LX"> +NEW SHORES.</a> +</span><span class="tocright"><a href="#Page_424">424</a></span></li> + +</ul> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><!-- Page 1 --><span class='pagenum'> +<a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h2> + +<h3>A FIRST INTERVIEW.</h3> + + +<p>One chilly afternoon in February, while as yet the London season had not +quite begun, though the streets were busy enough, an open barouche was +being rapidly driven along Piccadilly in the direction of Coventry +Street; and its two occupants, despite the dull roar of vehicles around +them, seemed to be engaged in eager conversation. One of these two was a +tall, handsome, muscular-looking man of about thirty, with a sun-tanned +face, piercing gray eyes, and a reddish-brown beard cropped in the +foreign fashion; the other, half hidden among the voluminous furs of the +carriage, was a pale, humpbacked lad, with a fine, expressive, +intellectual face, and large, animated, almost woman-like eyes. The +former was George Brand, of Brand Beeches, Bucks, a bachelor unattached, +and a person of no particular occupation, except that he had tumbled +about the world a good deal, surveying mankind with more or less of +interest or indifference. His companion and friend, the bright-eyed, +beautiful-faced, humpbacked lad, was Ernest Francis D'Agincourt, +thirteenth Baron Evelyn.</p> + +<p>The discussion was warm, though the elder of the two friends spoke +deprecatingly, at times even scornfully.</p> + +<p>"I know what is behind all that," he said. "They are making a dupe of +you, Evelyn. A parcel of miserable Leicester Square conspirators, +plundering the working-man of all countries of his small savings, and +humbugging him with promises of twopenny-halfpenny revolutions! That is +not the sort of thing for you to mix in. It is not English, all that +dagger and dark-lantern business, even if it were real; but when it is +only theatrical—when they are only stage daggers—when the wretched +creatures who mouth about assas<!-- Page 2 --><span class='pagenum'> +<a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span>sination and revolution are only +swaggering for half-pence—bah! What part do you propose to play?"</p> + +<p>"I tell you it has nothing to do with daggers and dark lanterns," said +the other with even greater warmth. "Why will you run your head against +a windmill? Why must you see farther into a mile-stone than anybody +else? I wonder, with all your travelling, you have not got rid of some +of that detestable English prejudice and suspicion. I tell you that when +I am allowed, even as an outsider, to see something of this vast +organization for the defence of the oppressed, for the protection of the +weak, the vindication of the injured, in every country throughout the +globe—when I see the splendid possibilities before it—when I find that +even a useless fellow like myself may do some little thing to lessen the +mighty mass of injustice and wrong in the world—well, I am not going to +stop to see that every one of my associates is of pure English birth, +with a brother-in-law on the Bench, and an uncle in the House of Lords. +I am glad enough to have something to do that is worth doing; something +to believe in; something to hope for. You—what do you believe in? What +is there in heaven or earth that you believe in?"</p> + +<p>"Suppose I say that I believe in you, Evelyn?" said his friend, quite +good-naturedly; "and some day, when you can convince me that your newly +discovered faith is all right, you may find me becoming your meek +disciple, and even your apostle. But I shall want something more than +Union speeches, you know."</p> + +<p>By this time the carriage had passed along Coventry Street, turned into +Prince's Street, and been pulled up opposite a commonplace-looking house +in that distinctly dingy thoroughfare, Lisle Street, Soho.</p> + +<p>"Not quite Leicester Square, but near enough to serve," said Brand, with +a contemptuous laugh, as he got out of the barouche, and then, with the +greatest of care and gentleness, assisted his companion to alight.</p> + +<p>They crossed the pavement and rang a bell. Almost instantly the door was +opened by a stout, yellow-haired, blear-eyed old man, who wore a huge +overcoat adorned with masses of shabby fur, and who carried a small lamp +in his hand, for the afternoon had grown to dusk. The two visitors were +evidently expected. Having given the younger of them a deeply respectful +greeting in German, the fur-coated old gentleman shut the door after +them, and proceeded to show the way up a flight of narrow and not +particularly clean wooden stairs.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 3 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a> +</span></p><p>"Conspiracy doesn't seem to pay," remarked George Brand, half to +himself.</p> + +<p>On the landing they were confronted by a number of doors, one of which +the old German threw open. They entered a large, plainly furnished, +well-lit room, looking pretty much like a merchant's office, though the +walls were mostly hung with maps and plans of foreign cities. Brand +looked round with a supercilious air. All his pleasant and friendly +manner had gone. He was evidently determined to make himself as +desperately disagreeable as an Englishman can make himself when +introduced to a foreigner whom he suspects. But even he would have had +to confess that there was no suggestion of trap-doors or sliding panels +in this ordinary, business-like room; and not a trace of a dagger or a +dark lantern anywhere.</p> + +<p>Presently, from a door opposite, an elderly man of middle height and +spare and sinewy frame walked briskly in, shook hands with Lord Evelyn, +was introduced to the tall, red-bearded Englishman (who still stood, hat +in hand, and with a portentous stiffness in his demeanor), begged his +two guests to be seated, and himself sat down at an open bureau, which +was plentifully littered with papers.</p> + +<p>"I am pleased to meet you, Mr. Brand," he said, speaking carefully, and +with a considerable foreign accent. "Lord Evelyn has several times +promised me the honor of making your acquaintance."</p> + +<p>Mr. Brand merely bowed: he was intent on making out what manner of man +this suspected foreigner might be; and he was puzzled. At first sight +Ferdinand Lind appeared to be about fifty or fifty-five years of age; +his closely cropped hair was gray; and his face, in repose, somewhat +care-worn. But then when he spoke there was an almost youthful vivacity +in his look; his dark eyes were keen, quick, sympathetic; and there was +even a certain careless ease about his dress—about the turned-down +collar and French-looking neck-tie, for example—that had more of the +air of the student than of the pedant about it. All this at the first +glance. It was only afterward you came to perceive what was denoted by +those heavy, seamed brows, the firm, strong mouth, and the square line +of the jaw. These told you of the presence of an indomitable and +inflexible will. Here was a man born to think, and control, and command.</p> + +<p>"With that prospect before me," he continued, apparently taking no +notice of the Englishman's close <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: "scrunity" in the original text"> +scrutiny</ins>, "I +must ask you, Mr. Brand—well, you know, it is merely a matter of +<!-- Page 4 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> +form—but I must ask you to be so very kind as to give me your word of +honor that you will not disclose anything you may see or learn here. +Have you any objection?"</p> + +<p>Brand stared, then said, coldly,</p> + +<p>"Oh dear, no. I will give you that pledge, if you wish it."</p> + +<p>"It is so easy to deal with Englishmen," said Mr. Lind, politely. "A +word, and it is done. But I suppose Lord Evelyn has told you that we +have no very desperate secrets. Secrecy, you know, one must use +sometimes; it is an inducement to many—most people are fond of a little +mystery; and it is harmless."</p> + +<p>Brand said nothing; Lord Evelyn thought he might have been at least +civil. But when an Englishman is determined on being stiff, his +stiffness is gigantic.</p> + +<p>"If I were to show you some of the tricks of this very room," said this +grizzled old foreigner with the boyish neck-tie, "you might call me a +charlatan; but would that be fair? We have to make use of various means +for what we consider a good end, a noble end; and there are many people +who love mystery and secrecy. With you English it is different—you must +have everything above-board."</p> + +<p>The pale, fine face of the sensitive lad sitting there became clouded +over with disappointment. He had brought this old friend of his with +some vague hope that he might become a convert, or at least be +sufficiently interested to make inquiries; but Brand sat silent, with a +cold indifference that was only the outward sign of an inward suspicion.</p> + +<p>"Sometimes, it is true," continued Mr. Lind, in nowise disconcerted, "we +stumble on the secrets of others. Our association has innumerable +feelers: and we make it our business to know what we can of everything +that is going on. For example, I could tell you of an odd little +incident that occurred last year in Constantinople. A party of four +gentlemen were playing cards there in a private room."</p> + +<p>Brand started. The man who was speaking took no notice.</p> + +<p>"There were two Austrian officers, a Roumanian count, and an +Englishman," he continued, in the most matter-of-fact way. "It was in a +private room, as I said. The Englishman was, after a time, convinced +that the Roumanian was cheating; he caught his wrist—showed the false +cards; then he managed to ward off the blow of a dagger which the +Roumanian aimed at him, and by main force carried him to the door and +threw him down-stairs. It was cleverly done, but the Eng<!-- Page 4 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span>lishman was +very big and strong. Afterward the two Austrian officers, who knew the +Verdt family, begged the Englishman never to reveal what had occurred; +and the three promised secrecy. Was not that so?"</p> + +<p>The man looked up carelessly. The Englishman's apathy was no longer +visible.</p> + +<p>"Y-yes," he stammered.</p> + +<p>"Would you like to know what became of Count Verdt?" he asked, with an +air of indifference.</p> + +<p>"Yes, certainly," said the other.</p> + +<p>"Ah! Of course you know the Castel' del Ovo?"</p> + +<p>"At Naples? Yes."</p> + +<p>"You remember that out at the point, beside the way that leads from the +shore to the fortress, there are many big rocks, and the waves roll +about there. Three weeks after you caught Count Verdt cheating at cards, +his dead body was found floating there."</p> + +<p>"Gracious heavens!" Brand exclaimed, with his face grown pale. And then +he added, breathlessly, "Suicide?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Lind smiled.</p> + +<p>"No. Reassure yourself. When they picked out the body from the water, +they found the mouth gagged, and the hands tied behind the back."</p> + +<p>Brand stared at this man.</p> + +<p>"Then you—?" He dared not complete the question.</p> + +<p>"I? Oh, I had nothing to do with it, any more than yourself. It was a +Camorra affair."</p> + +<p>He had been speaking quite indifferently; but now a singular change came +over his manner.</p> + +<p>"And if I <i>had</i> had something to do with it?" he said, vehemently; and +the dark eyes were burning with a quick anger under the heavy brows. +Then he spoke more slowly, but with a firm emphasis in his speech. "I +will tell you a little story; it will not detain you, sir. Suppose that +you have a prison so overstocked with political prisoners that you must +keep sixty or seventy in the open yard adjoining the outer wall. You +have little to fear; they are harmless, poor wretches; there are several +old men—two women. Ah! but what are the poor devils to do in those long +nights that are so dark and so cold? However they may huddle together, +they freeze; if they keep not moving, they die; you find them dead in +the morning. If you are a Czar you are glad of that, for your prisons +are choked; it is very convenient. And, then suppose you have a clever +fellow who finds out a narrow passage between the implement-house and +the wall; and he says, <!-- Page 6 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6"> +[Pg 6]</a></span>'There, you can work all night at digging a +passage out; and who in the morning will suspect?' Is not that a fine +discovery, when one must keep moving in the dark to prevent one's self +stiffening into a corpse? Oh yes; then you find the poor devils, in +their madness, begin to tear the ground up; what tools have they but +their fingers, when the implement-house is locked? The poor devils!—old +men, too, and women; and how they take their turn at the slow work, hour +after hour, week after week, all through the long, still nights! Inch by +inch it is; and the poor devils become like rabbits, burrowing for a +hole to reach the outer air; and do you know that, after a time, the +first wounds heal, and your fingers become like stumps of iron—"</p> + +<p>He held out his two hands; the ends of the fingers were seamed and +corrugated, as if they had been violently scalded. But he could not hold +them steady—they were trembling with the suppressed passion that made +his whole frame tremble.</p> + +<p>"Relay after relay, night after night, week after week, month after +month, until those poor devils of rabbits had actually burrowed a +passage out into the freedom of God's world again. And some said the +Czar himself had heard of it, and would not interfere, for the prisons +were choked; and some said the wife of the governor was Polish, and had +a kind heart; but what did it matter when the time was drawing near? And +always this clever fellow—do you know, sir, his name was Verdt +too?—encouraging, helping, goading these poor people on. Then the last +night—how the miserable rabbits of creatures kept huddled together, +shivering in the dark, till the hour arrived! and then the death-like +stillness they found outside; and the wild wonder and fear of it; and +the old men and the women crying like children to find themselves in the +free air again. Marie Falevitch—that was my sister-in-law—she kissed +me, and was laughing when she whispered, '<i>Eljen a haza</i>!' I think she +was a little off her head with the long, sleepless nights."</p> + +<p>He stopped for a second; his throat seemed choked.</p> + +<p>"Did I tell you they had all got out?—the poor devils all wondering +there, and scarcely knowing where to go. And now suppose, sir—ah! you +don't know anything about these things, you happy English +people—suppose you found the black night around you all at once turned +to a blaze of fire—red hell opened on all sides of you, and the bullets +plowing your comrades down; the old men crying for mercy, the young ones +falling only with a groan; the women—my God! Did you ever hear a woman +shriek when she was struck <!-- Page 7 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span>through the heart with a bullet? Marie +Falevitch fell at my feet, but I could not raise her—I was struck down +too. It was a week after that I came to my senses. I was in the prison, +but the prison was not quite so full. Czars and governors have a fine +way of thinning prisons when they get too crowded."</p> + +<p>These last words were spoken in a calm, contemptuous way; the man was +evidently trying hard to control the fierce passion that these memories +had stirred up. He had clinched one hand, and put it firmly on the desk +before him, so that it should not tremble.</p> + +<p>"Well, now, Mr. Brand," he continued, slowly, "let us suppose that when +you come to yourself again, you hear the rumors that are about: you +hear, for example, that Count Verdt—that exceedingly clever man—has +been graciously pardoned by the Czar for revealing the villanous +conspiracy of his fellow-prisoners; and that he has gone off to the +South with a bag of money. Do you not think that you would remember the +name of that clever person? Do you not think you would say to yourself, +'Well, it may not be to-day, or to-morrow, or the next day: <i>but some +day</i>?'"</p> + +<p>Again the dark eyes glowed; but he had a wonderful self-control.</p> + +<p>"You would remember the name, would you not, if you had your +sister-in-law, and your only brother, and six or seven of your old +friends and comrades all shot on the one night?"</p> + +<p>"This was the same Count Verdt?" Brand asked, eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the other, after a considerable pause. Then he added, with +an involuntary sigh, "I had been following his movements for some time; +but the Camorra stepped in. They are foolish people, those +Camorristi—foolish and ignorant. They punish for very trifling +offences, and they do not make sufficient warning of their punishments. +Then they are quite imbecile in the way they attempt to regulate labor."</p> + +<p>He was now talking in quite a matter-of-fact way. The clinched hand was +relaxed.</p> + +<p>"Besides," continued Ferdinand Lind, with the cool air of a critic, +"their conduct is too scandalous. The outer world believes they are +nothing but an association of thieves and cut-throats; that is because +they do not discountenance vulgar and useless crime; because there is +not enough authority, nor any proper selection of members. In the +affairs of the world, one has sometimes to make use of queer +agents—that <!-- Page 8 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span>is admitted; and you cannot have any large body of people +without finding a few scoundrels among them. I suppose one might even +say that about your very respectable Church of England. But you only +bring a society into disrepute—you rob it of much usefulness—you put +the law and society against it—when you make it the refuge of common +murderers and thieves."</p> + +<p>"I should hope so," remarked George Brand. If this suspected foreigner +had resumed his ordinary manner, so had he; he was again the haughty, +suspicious, almost supercilious Englishman.</p> + +<p>Poor Lord Evelyn! The lad looked quite distressed. These two men were so +obviously antipathetic that it seemed altogether hopeless to think of +their ever coming together.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Mr. Lind, in his ordinary polished and easy manner, "I must +not seek to detain you; for it is a cold night to keep horses waiting. +But, Mr. Brand, Lord Evelyn dines with us to-morrow evening; if you have +nothing better to do, will you join our little party? My daughter, I am +sure, will be most pleased to make your acquaintance."</p> + +<p>"Do, Brand, there's a good fellow;" struck in his friend. "I haven't +seen anything of you for such a long time."</p> + +<p>"I shall be very happy indeed," said the tall Englishman, wondering +whether he was likely to meet a goodly assemblage of sedition-mongers at +this foreign persons table.</p> + +<p>"We dine at a quarter to eight. The address is No. —— Curzon Street; +but perhaps you had better take this card."</p> + +<p>So they left, and were conducted down the staircase by the stout old +German; and scrambled up into the furs of the barouche.</p> + +<p>"So he has a daughter?" said Brand, as the two friends together drove +down to Buckingham Street, where they were to dine at his rooms.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; his daughter Natalie," said Lord Evelyn, eagerly. "I am so +glad you will see him to-morrow night!"</p> + +<p>"And they live on Curzon Street," said the other, reflectively. "H'm! +Conspiracy <i>does</i> pay, then!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2> + +<h3>PLEADINGS.</h3> + + +<p>"Brother Senior Warden, your place in the lodge?" said Mr. Brand, +looking at the small dinner-table.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 9 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p><p>"You forget," his companion said. "I am only in the nursery as yet—an +Illuminatus Minor, as it were. However, I don't think I can do better +than sit where Waters has put me; I can have a glimpse of the lights on +the river. But what an extraordinary place for you to come to for +rooms!"</p> + +<p>They had driven down through the glare of the great city to this silent +and dark little thoroughfare, dismissed the carriage at the foot, +climbed up an old-fashioned oak staircase, and found themselves at last +received by an elderly person, who looked a good deal more like a +bronzed old veteran than an ordinary English butler.</p> + +<p>"Halloo, Waters!" said Lord Evelyn. "How are you? I don't think I have +seen you since you threatened to murder the landlord at Cairo."</p> + +<p>"No, my lord," said Mr. Waters, who seemed vastly pleased by this +reminiscence, and who instantly disappeared to summon dinner for the two +young men.</p> + +<p>"Extraordinary?" said Brand, when they had got seated at table. "Oh no; +my constant craving is for air, space, light and quiet. Here I have all +these. Beneath are the Embankment gardens; beyond that, you see, the +river—those lights are the steamers at anchor. As for quiet, the lower +floors are occupied by a charitable society; so I fancied there would +not be much traffic on the stairs."</p> + +<p>The jibe passed unheeded; Lord Evelyn had long ago become familiar with +his friend's way of speaking about men and things.</p> + +<p>"And so, Evelyn, you have become a pupil of the revolutionaries," George +Brand continued, when Waters had put some things before them and +retired—"a student of the fine art of stabbing people unawares? What an +astute fellow that Lind must be—I will swear it never <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: "occured" in the original text">occurred</ins> +to one of the lot before—to get an English milord into +their ranks! A stroke of genius! It could only have been projected by a +great mind. And then look at the effect throughout Europe if an English +milord were to be found with a parcel of Orsini bombs in his possession! +every ragamuffin from Naples to St. Petersburg would rejoice; the army +of cutthroats would march with a new swagger."</p> + +<p>His companion said nothing; but there was a vexed and impatient look on +his face.</p> + +<p>"And our little daughter—is she pretty? Does she coax the young men to +play with daggers?—the innocent little thing! And when you start with +your dynamite to break open a jail, she blows you a kiss?—the charming +little fairy! What <!-- Page 10 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span>is it she has embroidered on the ribbons round her +neck?—'<i>Mort aux rois</i>?' '<i>Sic semper tyrannis</i>?' No; I saw a much +prettier one somewhere the other day: '<i>Ne si pasce di fresche ruggiade, +ma di sangue di membra di re</i>.' Isn't it charming? It sounds quite +idyllic, even in English: '<i>Not for you the nourishment of freshening +dews, but the blood of the limbs of kings</i>!' The pretty little +stabber—is she fierce?"</p> + +<p>"Brand, you are too bad!" said the other, throwing down his knife and +fork, and getting up from the table. "You believe in neither man, woman, +God, nor devil!"</p> + +<p>"Would you mind handing over that claret jug?"</p> + +<p>"Why," he said, turning passionately toward him, "it is men like you, +who have neither faith, nor hope, nor regret, who are wandering +aimlessly in a nightmare of apathy and indolence and indifference, who +ought to be the first to welcome the new light breaking in the sky. What +is life worth to you? You have nothing to hope for—nothing to look +forward to—nothing you can kill the aimless with. Why should you desire +to-morrow? To-morrow will bring you nothing different from yesterday; +you will do as you did yesterday and the day before yesterday. It is the +life of a horse or an ox—not the life of a human being, with the +sympathies and needs and aspirations of a man. What is the object of +living at all?"</p> + +<p>"I really don't know," said the other, simply.</p> + +<p>But this pale hump-backed lad, with the fine nostrils, the sensitive +mouth, the large forehead, and the beautiful eyes, was terribly in +earnest. He forgot about his place at table. He kept walking up and +down, occasionally addressing his friend directly, at other times +glancing out at the dark river and the golden lines of the lamps. And he +was an eloquent speaker, too. Debarred from most forms of physical +exercise, he had been brought up in a world of ideas. When he went to +Oxford, it was with some vague notion of subsequently entering the +Church; but at Oxford he became speedily convinced that there was no +Church left for him to enter. Then he fell back on +æstheticism—worshipped Carpaccio, adored Chopin, and turned his rooms +at Merton into a museum of old tapestry, Roman brass-work, and Venetian +glass. Then he dabbled a little in Comtism; but very soon he threw aside +that gigantic make-believe at believing. Nevertheless, whatever was his +whim of the moment, it was for him no whim at all, but a burning +reality. And in this enthusiasm of his there was no room left for +shyness. In fact, these two companions had been accustomed to talk +<!-- Page 11 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span>frankly; they had long ago abandoned that self-consciousness which +ordinarily restricts the conversation of young Englishmen to +monosyllables. Brand was a good listener and his friend an eager, +impetuous, enthusiastic speaker. The one could even recite verses to the +other: what greater proof of confidence?</p> + +<p>And on this occasion all this prayer of his was earnest and pathetic +enough. He begged this old chum of his to throw aside his insular +prejudices and judge for himself. What object had he in living at all, +if life were merely a routine of food and sleep? In this selfish +isolation, his living was only a process of going to the grave—only +that each day would become more tedious and burdensome as he grew older. +Why should he not examine, and inquire, and believe—if that was +possible? The world was perishing for want of a new faith: the new faith +was here.</p> + +<p>At this phrase George Brand quickly raised his head. He was accustomed +to these enthusiasms of his friend; but he had not yet seen him in the +character of on apostle.</p> + +<p>"You know it as well as I, Brand; the last great wave of religion has +spent itself; and I suppose Matthew Arnold would have us wait for the +mysterious East, the mother of religions, to send us another. Do you +remember 'Obermann?'—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0" style="margin-left: -1em">"'In his cool hall, with haggard eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The Roman noble lay;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He drove abroad, in furious guise,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Along the Appian Way;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0" style="margin-left: -1em">"'He made a feast, drank fierce and fast,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And crowned his head with flowers—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No easier nor no quicker passed<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The impracticable hours.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0" style="margin-left: -1em">"'The brooding East with awe beheld<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Her impious younger world.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Roman tempest swelled and swelled,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And on her head was hurled.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0" style="margin-left: -1em">"'The East bowed low before the blast,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In patience, deep disdain;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She let the legions thunder past,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And plunged in thought again."<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<p>The lad had a sympathetic voice; and there was a curious, pathetic +thrill in the tones of it as he went on to describe the result of that +awful musing—the new-born joy awakening in the East—the victorious +West veiling her eagles and snap<!-- Page 12 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span>ping her sword before this strange new +worship of the Child—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0" style="margin-left: -.5em">"And centuries came, and ran their course,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">And, unspent all that time,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Still, still went forth that Child's dear force,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">And still was at its prime."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>But now—in these later days around us!—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0" style="margin-left: -.5em">"Now he is dead! Far hence He lies<br /></span> +<span class="i3">In the lorn Syrian town;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And on his grave, with shining eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">The Syrian stars look down."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The great divine wave had spent itself. But were we to sit supinely +by—this was what he asked, though not precisely in these consecutive +words, for sometimes he walked to and fro in his eagerness, and +sometimes he ate a bit of bread, or sat down opposite his friend for the +purpose of better confronting him—to wait for that distant and +mysterious East to send us another revelation? Not so. Let the +proud-spirited and courageous West, that had learned the teachings of +Christianity but never yet applied them—let the powerful West establish +a faith of her own: a faith in the future of humanity itself—a faith in +future of recompense and atonement to the vast multitudes of mankind who +had toiled so long and so grievously—a faith demanding instant action +and endeavor and self-sacrifice from those who would be its first +apostles.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0" style="margin-left: -.5em">"The complaining millions of men<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Darken in labor and pain."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>And why should not this Christianity, that had so long been used to gild +the thrones of kings and glorify the ceremonies of priests—that had so +long been monopolized by the rich and the great and the strong, whom its +Founder despised and denounced—why should it not at length come to the +help of those myriads of the poor and the weak and the suffering whose +cry for help had been for so many centuries disregarded? Here was work +for the idle, hope for the hopeless, a faith for them who were perishing +for want of a faith.</p> + +<p>"You say all this is vague—a vision—a sentiment?" he said, talking in +the same eager way. "Then that is my fault. I cannot explain it all to +you in a few words. But do not run away with the notion that it is mere +words—a St. Simonian dream of perfectibility, or anything like that. It +is practical; <!-- Page 13 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span>it exists; it is within reach of you. It is a definite +and immense organization; it may be young as yet, but it has courage and +splendid aims; and now, with a great work before it, it is eager for +aid. You yourself, when you see a child run over, or a woman starving of +hunger, or a blind man wanting to cross a street, are you not ready with +your help—the help of your hands or of your purse? Multiply these by +millions, and think of the cry for help that comes from all parts of the +world. If you but knew, you could not resist. I as yet know little—I +only hear the echo of the cry; but my veins are burning; I shall have +the gladness of answering 'Yes,' however little I can do. And after all, +is not that something? For a man to live only for himself is death."</p> + +<p>"But you know, Evelyn," said his friend, though he did not quite know +what to answer to all this outburst, "you must be more cautious. Those +benevolent schemes are very noble and very captivating; but sometimes +they are in the hands of rather queer people. And besides, do you quite +know the limits of this big society? I thought you said something about +vindicating the oppressed. Does it include politics?"</p> + +<p>"I do not question; I am content to obey," said Lord Evelyn.</p> + +<p>"That is not English; unreasoning and blind obedience is mere folly."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps so," said the other, somewhat absently; "but I suppose a man +accepts whatever satisfies the craving of his own heart. And—and I +should not like to go alone on this new thing, Brand. Will you not come +some little way with me? If you think I am mistaken, you may turn back; +as for me—well, if it were only a dream, I think I would rather go with +the pilgrims on their hopeless quest than stay with the people who come +out to wonder at them as they go by. You remember—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0" style="margin-left: -1em">"'Who is your lady of love, oh ye that pass<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Singing? And is it for sorrow of that which was<br /></span> +<span class="i4">That ye sing sadly, or dream of what shall be?<br /></span> +<span class="i6">For gladly at once and sadly it seems ye sing.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">—Our lady of love by you is unbeholden;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For hands she hath none, nor eyes, nor lips, nor golden<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Treasure of hair, nor face nor form; but we<br /></span> +<span class="i6">That love, we know her more fair than anything.'"<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<p>Yes; he had certainly a pathetic thrill in his voice; but now there was +something else—something strange—in the slow and monotonous cadence +that caught the acute ear of <!-- Page 14 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span>his friend. And again he went on, but +absently, almost as if he were himself listening—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0" style="margin-left: -.5em">"—Is she a queen, having great gifts to give?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">—Yea, these; that whoso hath seen her shall not live<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Except he serve her sorrowing, with strange pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Travail and bloodshedding and bitterest tears;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And when she bids die he shall surely die.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And he shall leave all things under the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">And go forth naked under sun and rain,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">And work and wait and watch out all his years."<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<p>"Evelyn," said George Brand, suddenly, fixing his keen eyes on his +friend's face, "where have you heard that? Who has taught you? You are +not speaking with your own voice."</p> + +<p>"With whose, then?" and a smile came over the pale, calm, beautiful +face, as if he had awakened out of a dream.</p> + +<p>"That," said Brand, still regarding him, "was the voice of Natalie +Lind."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2> + +<h3>IN A HOUSE IN CURZON STREET.</h3> + + +<p>Armed with a defiant scepticism, and yet conscious of an unusual +interest and expectation, George Brand drove up to Curzon Street on the +following evening. As he jumped out of his hansom, he inadvertently +glanced at the house.</p> + +<p>"Conspiracy has not quite built us a palace as yet," he said to himself.</p> + +<p>The door was opened by a little German maid-servant, as neat and round +and rosy as a Dresden china shepherdess, who conducted him up-stairs and +announced him at the drawing-room. It was not a large room; but there +was more of color and gilding in it than accords with the severity of +modern English taste; and it was lit irregularly with a number of +candles, each with a little green or rose-red shade. Mr. Lind met him at +the door. As they shook hands, Brand caught a glimpse of another figure +in the room—apparently that of a tall woman dressed all in cream-white, +with a bunch of scarlet geraniums in her bosom, and another in her +raven-black hair.</p> + +<p>"Not the gay little adventuress, then?" was his instant and internal +comment. "Better contrived still. The inspired <!-- Page 15 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span>prophetess. Obviously +not the daughter of this man at all. Hired."</p> + +<p>But when Natalie Lind came forward to receive him, he was more than +surprised; he was almost abashed. During a second or two of wonder and +involuntary admiration, he was startled out of his critical attitude +altogether. For this tall and striking figure was in reality that of a +young girl of eighteen or nineteen, who had the beautifully formed bust, +the slender waist, and the noble carriage that even young Hungarian +girls frequently have. Perhaps the face, with its intellectual forehead +and the proud and firmly cut mouth, was a trifle too calm and +self-reliant for a young girl: but all the softness of expression that +was wanted, all the gentle and gracious timidity that we associate with +maidenhood, lay in the large, and dark, and lustrous eyes. When, by +accident, she turned aside, and he saw the outline of that clear, +olive-complexioned face, only broken by the outward curve of the long +black lashes, he had to confess to himself that, adventuress or no +adventuress, prophetess or no prophetess, Natalie Lind was possessed of +about the most beautiful profile he had ever beheld, while she had the +air and the bearing of a queen.</p> + +<p>Her father and he talked of the various trifling things of the moment; +but what he was chiefly thinking of was the singular calm and +self-possession of this young girl. When she spoke, her dark, soft eyes +regarded him without fear. Her manner was simple and natural to the last +degree; perhaps with the least touch added of maidenly reserve. He was +forced even to admire the simplicity of her dress—cream or canary white +it was, with a bit of white fur round the neck and round the tight +wrists. The only strong color was that of the scarlet geraniums which +she wore in her bosom, and in the splendid masses of her hair; and the +vertical sharp line of scarlet of her closed fan.</p> + +<p>Once only, during this interval of waiting, did he find that calm +serenity of hers disturbed. He happened to observe the photograph of a +very handsome woman near him on the table. She told him she had had a +parcel of photographs of friends of hers just sent over from Vienna: +some of them very pretty. She went to another table, and brought over a +handful. He glanced at them only a second or two.</p> + +<p>"I see they are mostly from Vienna: are they Austrian ladies?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"They live in Austria, but they are not Austrians," she answered. And +then she added, with a touch of scorn about <!-- Page 16 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span>the beautiful mouth, "Our +friends and we don't belong to the women-floggers!"</p> + +<p>"Natalie!" her father said; but he smiled all the same.</p> + +<p>"I will tell you one of my earliest recollections," she said: "I +remember it very well. Kossuth was carrying me round the room on his +shoulder. I suppose I had been listening to the talk of the gentlemen; +for I said to him, 'When they burned my papa in effigy at Pesth, why was +I not allowed to go and see?' And he said—I remember the sound of his +voice even now—'Little child, you were not born then. But if you had +been able to go, do you know what they would have done to you? They +would have flogged you. Do you not know that the Austrians flog women? +When you grow up, little child, your papa will tell you the story of +Madame von Maderspach.'" Then she added, "That is one of my valued +recollections, that when I was a child I was carried on Kossuth's +shoulders."</p> + +<p>"You have no similar reminiscence of Gorgey, I suppose?" Brand said, +with a smile.</p> + +<p>He had spoken quite inadvertently, without the slightest thought in the +world of wounding her feelings. But he was surprised and shocked by the +extraordinary effect which this chance remark produced on the tall and +beautiful girl standing there; for an instant she paused, as if not +knowing what to say. Then she said proudly, and she turned away as she +did so,</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you are not aware that there are some names you should not +mention in the presence of a Hungarian woman."</p> + +<p>What was there in the tone of the voice that made him rapidly glance at +her eyes, as she turned away, pretending to carry back the photographs? +He was not deceived. Those large dark eyes were full of sudden, +indignant tears; she had not turned quite quickly enough to conceal +them.</p> + +<p>Of course, he instantly and amply apologized for his ignorance and +stupidity; but what he said to himself was, "That child is not acting. +She may be Lind's daughter, after all. Poor thing! she is too beautiful, +and generous, and noble to be made the decoy of a revolutionary +adventurer."</p> + +<p>At this moment Lord Evelyn arrived, throwing a quick glance of inquiry +toward his friend, to see what impression, so far, had been produced. +But the tall, red-bearded Englishman maintained, as the diplomatists +say, an attitude <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: Extra "," deleted from the original text"> +of</ins> the strictest reserve. +The keen gray eyes were respectful <!-- Page 17 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span>attentive, courteous—especially +when they were turned to Miss Lind; beyond that, nothing.</p> + +<p>Now they had not been seated at the dinner-table more than a few minutes +before George Brand began to ask himself whether it was really Curzon +Street he was dining in. The oddly furnished room was adorned with +curiosities to which every capital in Europe would seem to have +contributed. The servants, exclusively women, were foreign; the table +glass and decorations were all foreign; the unostentatious little +banquet was distinctly foreign. Why, the very bell that had summoned +them down—what was there in the soft sound of it that had reminded him +of something far away? It was a haunting sound, and he kept puzzling +over the vague association it seemed to call up. At last he frankly +mentioned the matter to Miss Lind, who seemed greatly pleased.</p> + +<p>"Ah, did you like the sound?" she said, in that low and harmonious voice +of hers. "The bell was an invention of my own; shall I show it to you?"</p> + +<p>The Dresden shepherdess, by name Anneli, being despatched into the hall, +presently returned with an object somewhat resembling in shape a +Cheshire cheese, but round at the top, formed of roughly filed metal of +a lustrous yellow-gray. Round the rude square handle surmounting it was +carelessly twisted a bit of old orange silk; other decoration there was +none.</p> + +<p>"Do you see what it is now?" she said. "Only one of the great bells the +people use for the cattle on the Campagna. Where did I get it? Oh, you +know the Piazza Montenara, in Rome, of course? There is a place there +where they sell such things to the country people. You could get one +without difficulty, if you are not afraid of being laughed at as a mad +Englishman. That bit of embroidered ribbon, though, I got in an old shop +in Florence."</p> + +<p>Indeed, what struck him further was, not only the foreign look of the +little room and its belongings, but also the extraordinary familiarity +with foreign cities shown by both Lind and his daughter. As the rambling +conversation went on (the sonorous cattle-bell had been removed by the +rosy-cheeked Anneli), they appeared to be just as much at home in +Madrid, in Munich, in Turin, or Genoa as in London. And it was no vague +and general tourist's knowledge that these two cosmopolitans showed; it +was rather the knowledge of a resident—an intimate acquaintance with +persons, streets, shops, and houses. George Brand was a bit of a +globe-trot<!-- Page 18 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span>ter himself, and was entirely interested in this talk about +places and things that he knew. He got to be quite at home with those +people, whose own home seemed to be Europe. Reminiscences, anecdotes +flowed freely on; the dinner passed with unconscious rapidity. Lord +Evelyn was delighted and pleased beyond measure to observe the more than +courteous attention that his friend paid to Natalie Lind.</p> + +<p>But all this while what mention was there of the great and wonderful +organization—a mere far-off glimpse of which had so captured Lord +Evelyn's fervent imagination? Not a word. The sceptic who had come among +them could find nothing either to justify or allay his suspicions. But +it might safely be said that, for the moment at least, his suspicions as +regarded one of those two were dormant. It was difficult to associate +trickery, and conspiracy, and cowardly stabbing, with this beautiful +young Hungarian girl, whose calm, dark eyes were so fearless. It is true +that she appeared very proud-spirited, and generous, and enthusiastic; +and you could cause her cheek to pale whenever you spoke of injury done +to the weak, or the suffering, or the poor. But that was different from +the secret sharpening of poniards.</p> + +<p>Once only was reference made to the various secret associations that are +slowly but eagerly working under the apparent social and political +surface of Europe. Some one mentioned the Nihilists. Thereupon Ferdinand +Lind, in a quiet and matter-of-fact way, without appearing to know +anything of the <i>personnel</i> of the society, and certainly without +expressing any approval of its aims, took occasion to speak of the +extraordinary devotion of those people.</p> + +<p>"There has been nothing like it," said he, "in all the history of what +men have done for a political cause. You may say they are fanatics, +madmen, murderers; that they only provoke further tyranny and +oppression; that their efforts are wholly and solely mischievous. It may +be so; but I speak of the individual and what he is ready to do. The +sacrifice of their own life is taken almost as a matter of course. Each +man knows that for him the end will almost certainly be Siberia or a +public execution; and he accepts it. You will find young men, well-born, +well-educated, who go away from their friends and their native place, +who go into a remote village, and offer to work at the commonest trade, +at apprentices' wages. They settle there; they marry; they preach +nothing but the value of honest work, and extreme sobriety, and respect +for superiors. Then, after some years, when they are regarded as beyond +all suspicion, they begin, <!-- Page 19 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span>cautiously and slowly, to spread abroad +their propaganda—to teach respect rather for human liberty, for +justice, for self-sacrifice, for those passions that prompt a nation to +adventure everything for its freedom. Well, you know the end. The man +may be found out—banished or executed; but the association remains. The +Russians at this moment have no notion how wide-spread and powerful it +is."</p> + +<p>"The head-quarters, are they in Russia itself?" asked Brand, on the +watch for any admission.</p> + +<p>"Who knows?" said the other, absently. "Perhaps there are none."</p> + +<p>"None? Surely there <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: "mus tbe" in the original text"> +must be</ins> some power to say +what is to be done, to enforce obedience?"</p> + +<p>"What if each man finds that in himself?" said Lind, with something of +the air of a dreamer coming over the firm and thoughtful and rugged +face. "It may be a brotherhood. All associations do not need to be +controlled by kings and priests and standing armies."</p> + +<p>"And the end of all this devotion, you say is Siberia or death?"</p> + +<p>"For the man, perhaps; for his work, not. It is not personal gain or +personal safety that a man must have in view if he goes to do battle +against the oppression that has crushed the world for centuries and +centuries. Do you not remember the answer given to the Czar by Michael +Bestoujif when he was condemned? It was only the saying of a peasant; +but it is one of the noblest ever heard in the world. 'I have the power +to pardon you,' said the Czar to him, 'and I would do so if I thought +you would become a faithful subject.' What was the answer? 'Sire,' said +Michael Bestoujif, 'that is our great misfortune, that the Emperor can +do everything, and that there is no law.'"</p> + +<p>"Ah, the brave man!" said Natalie Lind, quickly and passionately, with a +flash of pride in her eyes. "The brave man! If I had a brother, I would +ask him, 'When will you show the courage of Michael Bestoujif?'"</p> + +<p>Lord Evelyn glanced at her with a strange, admiring, proud look. "If she +had a brother!" What else, even with all his admiration and affection +for her, could he hope to be?</p> + +<p>Presently they wandered back into other and lighter subjects; and Brand, +at least, did not notice how the time was flying. When Natalie Lind +rose, and asked her father whether he would have coffee sent into the +smoking-room, or have tea in the drawing-room, Brand was quite +astonished <!-- Page 20 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span>and disappointed to find it so late. He proposed they should +at once go up to the drawing-room; and this was done.</p> + +<p>They had been speaking of musical instruments at dinner; and their host +now brought them some venerable lutes to examine—curiosities only, for +most of the metal strings were broken. Beautiful objects, however, they +were, in inlaid ivory or tortoise-shell and ebony; made, as the various +inscriptions revealed, at Bologna, or Padua, or Venice; and dating, some +of them, as far back as 1474. But in the midst of all this, Brand espied +another instrument on one of the small tables.</p> + +<p>"Miss Lind," said he, with some surprise, "do you play the zither?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, Natalie will play you something," her father said, carelessly; +and forthwith the girl sat down to the small table.</p> + +<p>George Brand retired into a corner of the room. He was passionately fond +of zither music. He thought no more about that examination of the lutes.</p> + +<p>"<i>Do you know one who can play the zither well?</i>" says the proverb. "<i>If +so, rejoice, for there are not two in the world.</i>" However that might +be, Natalie Lind could play the zither, as one eager listener soon +discovered. He, in that far corner, could only see the profile of the +girl (just touched with a faint red from the shade of the nearest +candle, as she leaned over the instrument), and the shapely wrists and +fingers as they moved on the metallic strings. But was that what he +really did see when the first low tremulous notes struck the prelude to +one of the old pathetic <i>Volkslieder</i> that many a time he had heard in +the morning, when the fresh wind blew in from the pines; that many a +time he had heard in the evening, when the little blue-eyed Kathchen and +her mother sung together as they sat and knitted on the bench in front +of the inn? Suddenly the air changes. What is this louder tramp? Is it +not the joyous chorus of the home-returning huntsmen; the lads with the +slain roedeer slung round their necks; that stalwart Bavarian keeper +hauling at his mighty black hound; old father Keinitz, with his three +beagles and his ancient breech-loader, hurrying forward to get the first +cool, vast, splendid bath of the clear, white wine? How the young +fellows come swinging along through the dust, their faces ablaze against +the sunset! Listen to the far, hoarse chorus!—</p> + +<p><!-- Page 21 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3" style="margin-left: -.5em">"Dann kehr ich von der Haide,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Zur hauslich stillen Freude,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Ein frommer Jagersmann!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Ein frommer Jagersmann!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Halli, hallo! halli, hallo!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Ein frommer Jagersmann!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<p>White wine now, and likewise the richer red!—for there is a great +hand-shaking because of the Mr. Englishman's good fortune in having shot +three bucks: and the little Kathchen's eyes grow full, because they have +brought home a gentle-faced hind, likewise cruelly slain. And Kathchen's +mother has whisked inside, and here are the tall schoppen on the table; +and speedily the long, low room is filled with the tobacco-smoke. What! +another song, you thirsty old Keinitz, with the quavering voice? But +there is a lusty chorus to that too; and a great clinking of glasses; +and the Englishman laughs and does his part too, and he has called for +six more schoppen of red.... But hush, now! Have we come out from the +din and the smoke to the cool evening air? What is that one hears afar +in the garden? Surely it is the little Kathchen and her mother singing +together, in beautiful harmony, the old, familiar, tender <i>Lorelei</i>! The +zither is a strange instrument—it speaks. And when Natalie Lind, coming +to this air, sung in a low contralto voice an only half-suggested +second, it seemed to those in the room that two women were singing—the +one with a voice low and rich and penetrating, the other voice clear and +sweet like the singing of a young girl. "<i>Die Luft ist kuhl und es +dunkelt, und ruhig fliesset der Rhein.</i>" Was it, indeed, Kathchen and +her mother? Were they far away in the beautiful pine-land, with the +quiet evening shining red over the green woods, and darkness coming over +the pale streams in the hollows? When Natalie Lind ceased, the elder of +the two guests murmured to himself, "Wonderful! wonderful!" The other +did not speak at all.</p> + +<p>She rested her hands for a moment on the table.</p> + +<p>"Natalushka," said her father, "is that all?"</p> + +<p>"I will not be called Natalushka, papa," said she; but again she bent +her hands over the silver strings.</p> + +<p>And these brighter and gayer airs now—surely they are from the laughing +and light-hearted South? Have we not heard them under the cool shade of +the olive-trees, with the hot sun blazing on the garden-paths of the +Villa Reale; and the children playing; and the band busy with its +dancing <i>canzoni</i>, the gay notes drowning the murmur and plash of the +<!-- Page 22 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span>fountains near? Look now!—far beneath the gray shadow of the +olive-trees—the deep blue band of the sea; and there the double-sailed +barca, like a yellow butterfly hovering on the water; and there the +large martingallo, bound for the cloud-like island on the horizon. Are +they singing, then, as they speed over the glancing waves?... "<i>O dolce +Napoli! O suol beato!</i>" ... for what can they sing at all, as they leave +us, if they do not sing the pretty, tender, tinkling "Santa Lucia?"</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0" style="margin-left: -.5em">"Venite all' agile<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Barchetta mia!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Santa Lucia!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Santa Lucia!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>... The notes grow fainter and fainter. Are the tall maidens of Capri +already looking out for the swarthy sailors, that these turn no longer +to the shores they are leaving?... "<i>O dolce Napoli! O suol beato!</i>" ... +Fainter and fainter grow the notes on the trembling string, so that you +can <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: "scarely" in the original text"> +scarcely</ins> tell them from the cool plashing of +the fountains ... "<i>Santa Lucia! ... Santa Lucia!</i>"....</p> + +<p>"Natalushka," said her father, laughing, "you must take us to Venice +now."</p> + +<p>The young Hungarian girl rose, and put the zither aside.</p> + +<p>"It is an amusement for the children," she said.</p> + +<p>She went to the piano, which was open, and took down a piece of +music—it was Kucken's "Maid of Judah." Now, hitherto, George Brand had +only heard her murmur a low, harmonious second to one or other of the +airs she had been playing; and he was quite unprepared for the passion +and fervor which her rich, deep, resonant, contralto voice threw into +this wail of indignation and despair. This was the voice of a woman, not +of a girl; and it was with the proud passion of a woman that she seemed +to send this cry to Heaven for reparation, and justice, and revenge. And +surely it was not only of the sorrows of the land of Judah she was +thinking!—it was a wider cry—the cry of the oppressed, and the +suffering, and the heart-broken in every clime—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0" style="margin-left: -.5em">"O blest native land! O fatherland mine!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">How long for thy refuge in vain shall I pine?"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>He could have believed there were tears in her eyes just then; but there +were none, he knew, when she came to the fierce piteous appeal that +followed—</p> + +<p><!-- Page 23 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0" style="margin-left: -.5em">"Where, where are thy proud sons, so lordly in might?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">All mown down and fallen in blood-welling fight!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thy cities are ruin, thy valleys lie waste,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Their summer enchantment the foe hath erased.<br /></span> +<span class="i3">O blest native land! how long shalt decline?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When, when will the Lord cry, 'Revenge, it is Mine!'"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The zither speaks; but there is a speech beyond that of the zither. The +penetrating vibration of this rich and pathetic voice was a thing not +easily to be forgotten. When the two friends left the house, they found +themselves in the chill darkness of an English night in February. Surely +it must have seemed to them that they had been dwelling for a period in +warmer climes, with gay colors, and warmth, and sweet sounds around +them. They walked for some time in silence.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Lord Evelyn, at last, "what do you think of them?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said the other, after a pause. "I am puzzled. How did +you come to know them?"</p> + +<p>"I came to know Lind through a newspaper reporter called O'Halloran. I +should like to introduce you to him too."</p> + +<p>George Brand soon afterward parted from his friend, and walked away down +to his silent rooms over the river. The streets were dark and deserted, +and the air was still; yet there seemed somehow to be a tremulous, +passionate, distant sound in the night. It was no tinkling "Santa Lucia" +dying away over the blue seas in the south. It was no dull, sonorous +bell, suggesting memories of the far Campagna. Was it not rather the +quick, responsive echo that had involuntarily arisen in his own heart, +when he heard Natalie Lind's thrilling voice pour forth that proud and +indignant appeal,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0" style="margin-left: -.5em">"When, when will the Lord cry, 'Revenge, it is Mine!'"<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2> + +<h3>A STRANGER.</h3> + + +<p>Ferdinand Lind was in his study, busy with his morning letters. It was a +nondescript little den, which he also used as library and smoking-room; +its chief feature being a collection of portraits—a most heterogeneous +assortment of engravings, photographs, woodcuts, and terra-cotta busts. +Wherever the book-shelves ceased, these began; and as there were <!-- Page 24 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span>a +great number of them, and as the room was small, Mr. Lind's friends or +historical heroes sometimes came into odd juxtaposition. In any case, +they formed a strange assemblage—Arndt and Korner; Stein; Silvio +Pellico and Karl Sand cheek by jowl; Pestal, Comte, Cromwell, Garibaldi, +Marx, Mazzini, Bem, Kossuth, Lassalle, and many another writer and +fighter. A fine engraving of Napoleon as First Consul was hung over the +mantel-piece, a pipe-rack intervening between it and a fac-simile of the +warrant for the execution of Charles I.</p> + +<p>Something in his correspondence had obviously annoyed the occupant of +this little study. His brows were bent down, and he kept his foot +nervously and impatiently tapping on the floor. When some one knocked, +he said, "Come in!" almost angrily, though he must have known who was +his visitor.</p> + +<p>"Good-morning, papa!" said the tall Hungarian girl, coming into the room +with a light step and a smile of welcome on her face.</p> + +<p>"Good-morning, Natalie!" said he, without looking up. "I am busy this +morning."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but, papa," said she, going over, and stooping down and kissing +him, "you must let me come and thank you for the flowers. They are more +beautiful than ever this time."</p> + +<p>"What flowers?" said he, impatiently.</p> + +<p>"Why," she said, with a look of astonishment, "have you forgotten +already? The flowers you always send for my birthday morning."</p> + +<p>But instantly she changed her tone.</p> + +<p>"Ah! I see. Good little children must not ask where the fairy gifts come +from. There, I will not disturb you, papa."</p> + +<p>She touched his shoulder caressingly as she passed.</p> + +<p>"But thank you again, papa Santa Claus."</p> + +<p>At breakfast, Ferdinand Lind seemed to have entirely recovered his +good-humor.</p> + +<p>"I had forgotten for the moment it was your birthday, Natalie," said he. +"You are quite a grown woman now."</p> + +<p>Nothing, however, was said about the flowers, though the beautiful +basket stood on a side-table, filling the room with its perfume. After +breakfast, Mr. Lind left for his office, his daughter setting about her +domestic duties.</p> + +<p>At twelve o'clock she was ready to go out for her accustomed morning +walk. The pretty little Anneli, her companion on these excursions, was +also ready; and together they set forth. They chatted frankly together +in German—the <!-- Page 25 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span>ordinary relations between mistress and servant never +having been properly established in this case. For one thing, they had +been left to depend on each other's society during many a long evening +in foreign towns, when Mr. Lind was away on his own business. For +another, Natalie Lind had, somehow or other, and quite unaided, arrived +at the daring conclusion that servants were human beings; and she had +been taught to regard human beings as her brothers and sisters, some +more fortunate than others, no doubt, but the least fortunate having the +greatest claim on her.</p> + +<p>"Fraulein," said the little Saxon maid, "it was I myself who took in the +beautiful flowers that came for you this morning."</p> + +<p>"Yes?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed; and I thought it was very strange for a lady to be out so +early in the morning."</p> + +<p>"A lady!" said Natalie Lind, with a quick surprise. "Not dressed all in +black?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed, she was dressed all in black."</p> + +<p>The girl was silent for a second or two. Then she said, with a smile,</p> + +<p>"It is not right for my father to send me a black messenger on my +birthday—it is not a good omen. And it was the same last year when we +were in Paris; the <i>concierge</i> told me. Birthday gifts should come with +a white fairy, you know, Anneli—all silver and bells."</p> + +<p>"Fraulein," said the little German girl, gravely, "I do not think the +lady who came this morning would bring you any ill fortune, for she +spoke with such gentleness when she asked about you."</p> + +<p>"When she asked about me? What was she like, then, this black +messenger?"</p> + +<p>"How could I see, Fraulein?—her veil was so thick. But her hair was +gray; I could see that. And she had a beautiful figure—not quite as +tall as you, Fraulein; I watched her as she went away."</p> + +<p>"I am not sure that it is safe, Anneli, to watch the people whom Santa +Claus sends," the young mistress said, lightly. "However, you have not +told me what the strange lady said to you."</p> + +<p>"That will I now tell you, Fraulein," said the other, with an air of +importance. "Well, when I heard the knock at the door, I went instantly; +I thought it was strange to hear a knock so early, instead of the bell. +Then there was the lady; and she did not ask who lived there, but she +said, 'Miss Lind <!-- Page 26 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span>is not up yet? But then, Fraulein, you must +understand, she did not speak like that, for it was in English, and she +spoke very slowly, as if it was with difficulty. I would have said, +'Will the <i>gnadige Frau</i> be pleased to speak German?' but I was afraid +it might be impertinent for a maid-servant to address a lady so. +Besides, Fraulein, she might have been a French lady, and not able to +understand our German."</p> + +<p>"Quite so, Anneli. Well?"</p> + +<p>"Then I told her I believed you were still in your room. Then she said, +still speaking very slowly, as if it was all learned, 'Will you be so +kind as to put those flowers just outside her room, so that she will get +them when she comes out?' And I said I would do that. Then she said, 'I +hope Miss Lind is very well;' and I said, 'Oh yes.' She stood for a +moment just then, Fraulein, as if not knowing whether to go away or not; +and then she asked again if you were quite well and strong and cheerful, +and again I said, 'Oh yes;' and no sooner had I said that than she put +something into my hand and went away. Would you believe it, Fraulein? it +was a sovereign—an English golden sovereign. And so I ran after her and +said, 'Lady, this is a mistake,' and I offered her the sovereign. That +was right, was it not, Fraulein?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly."</p> + +<p>"Well, she did not speak to me at all this time. I think the poor lady +has less English even than I myself; but she closed my hand over the +sovereign, and then patted me on the arm, and went away. It was then +that I looked after her. I said to myself, 'Well, there is only one lady +that I know who has a more beautiful figure than that—that is my +mistress.' But she was not so tall as you, Fraulein."</p> + +<p>Natalie Lind paid no attention to this adroit piece of flattery on the +part of her little Saxon maid.</p> + +<p>"It is very extraordinary, Anneli," she said, after awhile; then she +added, "I hope the piece of gold you have will not turn to dust and +ashes."</p> + +<p>"Look at it, Fraulein," said Anneli, taking out her purse and producing +a sound and solid English coin, about which there appeared to be no +demonology or witchcraft whatsoever.</p> + +<p>They had by this time got into Park Lane; and here the young mistress's +speculations about the mysterious messenger of Santa Claus were suddenly +cut short by something more immediate and more practical. There was a +small boy of about ten engaged in pulling a wheelbarrow which was +heavily laden with large baskets—probably containing washing; and he +was toiling manfully with a somewhat hopeless task. <!-- Page 27 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span>How he had got so +far it was impossible to say; but now that his strength was exhausted, +he was trying all sorts of ineffectual dodges—even tilting up the +barrow and endeavoring to haul it by the legs—to get the thing along.</p> + +<p>"If I were a man," said Natalie Lind, "I would help that boy."</p> + +<p>Then she stepped from the pavement.</p> + +<p>"Little boy," she said, "where are you taking that barrow?"</p> + +<p>The London <i>gamin</i>, always on the watch for sarcasm, stopped and stared +at her. Then he took off his cap and wiped his forehead; it was warm +work, though this was a chill February morning. Finally he said,</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm agoin' to Warrington Crescent, Maida Vale. But if it's when I +am likely to git there—bust me if I know."</p> + +<p>She looked about. There was a good, sturdy specimen of the London loafer +over at the park railings, with both hands up at his mouth, trying to +light his pipe. She went across to him.</p> + +<p>"I will give you half a crown if you will pull that barrow to Warrington +Crescent, Maida Vale." There was no hesitation in her manner; she looked +the loafer fair in the face.</p> + +<p>He instantly took the pipe from his mouth, and made some slouching +attempt at touching his cap.</p> + +<p>"Thank ye, miss. Thank ye kindly"—and away the barrow went, with the +small boy manfully pushing behind.</p> + +<p>The tall, black-eyed Hungarian girl and her rosy-cheeked attendant now +turned into the Park. There were a good many people riding by—fathers +with their daughters, elderly gentlemen very correctly dressed, smart +young men with a little tawny mustache, clear blue eyes, and square +shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Many of those Englishmen are very handsome," said the young mistress, +by chance.</p> + +<p>"Not like the Austrians, Fraulein," said Anneli.</p> + +<p>"The Austrians? What do you know about the Austrians?" said the other, +sharply.</p> + +<p>"When my uncle was ill at Prague, Fraulein," the girl said, "my mother +took me there to see him. We used to go out to the river, and go +half-way over the tall bridge, and then down to the 'Sofien-Insel.' Ah, +the beautiful place!—with the music, and the walks under the trees; and +there we used to see the Austrian officers. These <i>were</i> handsome, with +there beautiful uniforms, and waists like a girl; and the beautiful +gloves they wore, too!—even when they were smoking cigarettes."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 28 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span></p><p>Natalie Lind was apparently thinking of other things. She neither +rebuked nor approved Anneli's speech; though it was hard that the little +Saxon maid should have preferred to the sturdy, white-haired, +fair-skinned warriors of her native land the elegant young gentlemen of +Francis Joseph's army.</p> + +<p>"They are handsome, those Englishmen," Natalie Lind was saying, almost +to herself, "and very rich and brave; but they have no sympathy. All +their fighting for their liberty is over and gone; they cannot believe +there is any oppression now anywhere; and they think that those who wish +to help the sufferers of the world are only discontented and fanatic—a +trouble—an annoyance. And they are hard with the poor people and the +weak; they think it is wrong—that you have done wrong—if you are not +well off and strong like themselves. I wonder if that was really an +English lady who wrote the 'Cry of the Children.'"</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, Fraulein."</p> + +<p>"Nothing, Anneli. I was wondering why so rich a nation as the English +should have so many poor people among them—and such miserable poor +people; there is nothing like it in the world."</p> + +<p>They were walking along the broad road leading to the Marble Arch, +between the leafless trees. Suddenly the little Saxon girl exclaimed, in +an excited whisper,</p> + +<p>"Fraulein! Fraulein!"</p> + +<p>"What is it, Anneli?"</p> + +<p>"The lady—the lady who came with the flowers—she is behind us. Yes; I +am sure."</p> + +<p>The girl's mistress glanced quickly round. Some distance behind them +there was certainly a lady dressed altogether in black, who, the moment +she perceived that these two were regarding her, turned aside, and +pretended to pick up something from the grass.</p> + +<p>"Fraulein, Fraulein," said Anneli, eagerly; "let us sit down on this +seat. Do not look at her. She will pass."</p> + +<p>The sudden presence of this stranger, about whom she had been thinking +so much, had somewhat unnerved her; she obeyed this suggestion almost +mechanically; and waited with her heart throbbing. For an instant or two +it seemed as if that dark figure along by the trees were inclined to +turn and leave; but presently Natalie Lind knew rather than saw that +this slender and graceful woman with the black dress and the deep veil +was approaching her. She came nearer; for a second she came closer; some +little white thing was dropped into the girl's lap, and the stranger +passed quickly on.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 29 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p><p>"Anneli, Anneli," the young mistress said, "the lady has dropped her +locket! Run with it—quick!"</p> + +<p>"No, Fraulein," said the other, quite as breathlessly, "she meant it for +you. Oh, look, Fraulein!—look at the poor lady—she is crying."</p> + +<p>The sharp eyes of the younger girl were right. Surely that slender +figure was being shaken with sobs as it hurried away and was lost among +the groups coming through the Marble Arch! Natalie Lind sat there as one +stupefied—breathless, silent, trembling. She had not looked at the +locket at all.</p> + +<p>"Anneli," she said, in a low voice, "was that the same lady? Are you +sure?"</p> + +<p>"Certain, Fraulein," said her companion, eagerly.</p> + +<p>"She must be very unhappy," said the girl. "I think, too, she was +crying."</p> + +<p>Then she looked at the trinket that the stranger had dropped into her +lap. It was an old-fashioned silver locket formed in the shape of a +heart, and ornamented with the most delicate filagree work; in the +centre of it was the letter N in old German text. When Natalie Lind +opened it, she found inside only a small piece of paper, on which was +written, in foreign-looking characters, "<i>From Natalie to Natalushka</i>."</p> + +<p>"Anneli, she knows my name!" the girl exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Would you not like to speak to the poor lady, <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: "Fraulien" in the original text"> +Fraulein</ins>?" +said the little German maid, who was very much excited, too. +"And do you not think she is sure to come this way again—to morrow, +next day, some other day? Perhaps she is ill or suffering, or she may +have lost some one whom you resemble—how can one tell?"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2> + +<h3>PIONEERS.</h3> + + +<p>Before sitting down to breakfast, on this dim and dreary morning in +February, George Brand went to one of the windows of his sitting-room +and looked abroad on the busy world without. Busy indeed it seemed to +be—the steamers hurrying up and down the river, hansoms whirling along +the Embankment, heavily laden omnibuses chasing each other across +Waterloo Bridge, the underground railway from time to time rumbling +beneath those wintry-looking gardens, and always and everywhere the +ceaseless murmur of a great city. In the midst of all this eager +activity, he was only a spectator. Busy <!-- Page 30 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span>enough the world around him +seemed to be; he alone was idle.</p> + +<p>Well, what had he to look forward to on this dull day, when once he had +finished his breakfast and his newspapers? It had already begun to +drizzle; there was to be no saunter up to the park. He would stroll +along to his club, and say "Good morning" to one or two acquaintances. +Perhaps he would glance at some more newspapers. Perhaps, tired of +reading news that did not interest, and forming opinions never to be +translated into action, he would take refuge in the library. Somehow, +anyhow, he would desperately tide over the morning till lunch-time.</p> + +<p>Luncheon would be a break; but after—? He had not been long enough in +England to become familiar with the whist-set; similarly, he had been +too long abroad to be proficient in English billiards, even if he had +been willing to make either whist or pool the pursuit of his life. As +for afternoon calls and tea-drinking, that may be an interesting +occupation for young gentlemen in search of a wife, but it is too +ghastly a business for one who has no such views. What then? More +newspapers? More tedious lounging in the hushed library? Or how were the +"impracticable hours" to be disposed of before came night and sleep?</p> + +<p>George Brand did not stay to consider that, when a man in the prime of +health and vigor, possessed of an ample fortune, unfettered by anybody's +will but his own, and burdened by neither remorse nor regret, +nevertheless begins to find life a thing too tedious to be borne, there +must be a cause for it. On the contrary, instead of asking himself any +questions, he set about getting through the daily programme with an +Englishman's determination to be prepared for the worst. He walked up to +his club, the Waldegrave, in Pall Mall. In the morning-room there were +only two or three old gentlemen, seated in easy-chairs near the fire, +and grumbling in a loud voice—for apparently one or two were rather +deaf—about the weather. Brand glanced at a few more newspapers. Then a +happy idea occurred to him; he would go up to the smoking-room and smoke +a cigarette.</p> + +<p>In this vast hall of a place there were only two persons—one standing +with his back to the fire, the other lying back in an easy-chair. The +one was a florid, elderly gentleman, who was first cousin to a junior +Lord of the Treasury, and therefore claimed to be a profound authority +on politics, home and foreign. He was a harmless poor devil enough, from +whom a merciful Providence had concealed the fact that his <!-- Page 31 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span>brain-power +was of the smallest. His companion, reclining in the easy-chair, was a +youthful Fine Art Professor; a gelatinous creature, a bundle of languid +affectations, with the added and fluttering self-consciousness of a +school-miss. He was absently assenting to the propositions of the florid +gentleman; but it is probable that his soul was elsewhere.</p> + +<p>These propositions were to the effect that leading articles in a +newspaper were a mere impertinence; that he himself never read such +things; that the business of a newspaper was to supply news; and that an +intelligent Englishman was better capable of forming a judgment on +public affairs than the hacks of a newspaper-office. The intelligent +Englishman then proceeded to deliver his own judgment on the question of +the day, which turned out to be—to Mr. Brand's great surprise—nothing +more nor less than a blundering and inaccurate <i>resume</i> of the opinions +expressed in a leading article in that morning's <i>Times</i>. At length this +one-sided conversation between a jackanapes and a jackass became too +intolerable for Brand, who threw away his cigarette, and descended once +more into the hall.</p> + +<p>"A gentleman wishes to see you, sir," said a boy; and at the same moment +he caught sight of Lord Evelyn.</p> + +<p>"Thank God!" he exclaimed, hurrying forward to shake his friend by the +hand. "Come, Evelyn, what are you up to? I can't stand England any +longer; will you take a run with me?—Algiers, Egypt, anywhere you like. +Let us drop down to Dover in the afternoon, and settle it there. Or what +do you say to the Riviera? we should be sure to run against some people +at one or other of the towns. Upon my life, if you had not turned up, I +think I should have cut my throat before lunch-time."</p> + +<p>"I have got something better for you to do than that," said the other; +"I want you to see O'Halloran. Come along; I have a hansom here. We +shall just catch him at Atkinson's, the book-shop, you know."</p> + +<p>"Very well; all right," Brand said, briskly: this seemed to be rather a +more cheerful business than cutting one's throat.</p> + +<p>"He's at his telegraph-wire all night," Lord Evelyn said, in the hansom. +"Then he lies down for a few hours' sleep on a sofa. Then he goes along +to his rooms in Pimlico for breakfast; but at Atkinson's he generally +stops for awhile on his way, to have his morning drink."</p> + +<p>"Oh, is that the sort of person?"</p> + +<p>"Don't make any mistake. O'Halloran may be eccentric <!-- Page 32 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span>in his ways of +living, but he is one of the most remarkable men I have ever run +against. His knowledge, his reading—politics, philosophy, everything, +in short—the brilliancy of his talking when he gets excited, even the +extraordinary variety of his personal acquaintance—why, there is +nothing going on that he does not know about."</p> + +<p>"But why has this Hibernian genius done nothing at all?"</p> + +<p>"Why? You might as well try to kindle a fire with a flash of lightning. +He has more political knowledge and more power of brilliant writing than +half the editors in London put together; but he would ruin any paper in +twenty-four hours. His first object would probably be to frighten his +readers out of their wits by some monstrous paradox; his next to show +them what fools they had been. I don't know how he has been kept on so +long where he is, unless it be that he deals with news only. I believe +he had to be withdrawn from the gallery of the House; he was very +impatient over the prosy members and his remarks about them began to +reach the Speaker's ear too frequently."</p> + +<p>"I gather, then, that he is merely a clever, idle, Irish vagabond, who +drinks."</p> + +<p>"He does not drink. And as for his Irish name I suppose he must be Irish +either by descent or birth; but he is continually abusing Ireland and +the Irish. Probably, however, he would not let anybody else do so."</p> + +<p>Mr. Atkinson's book-shop in the Strand was a somewhat dingy-looking +place, filled with publications mostly of an exceedingly advanced +character. Mr. Atkinson himself claimed to be a bit of a reformer; and +had indeed brought himself, on one or two occasions, within reach of the +law by issuing pamphlets of a somewhat too fearless aim. On this +occasion he was not in the shop; so the two friends passed through, +ascended a dark little stair, and entered a room which smelled strongly +of tobacco-smoke.</p> + +<p>The solitary occupant of this chamber, to whom Brand was immediately +introduced, was a man of about fifty, carelessly if not even shabbily +dressed, with large masses of unkempt hair, and eyes, dark gray, +deep-set, that had very markedly the look of the eyes of a lion. The +face was worn and pallid, but when lit up with excitement it was capable +of much expression; and Mr. O'Halloran, when he did become excited, got +very much excited indeed. He had laid aside his pipe, and was just +finishing his gin and soda-water, taken from Mr. Atkinson's private +store.</p> + +<p>However, the lion so seldom roars when it is expected to <!-- Page 33 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span>roar. Instead +of the extraordinary creature whom Lord Evelyn had been describing, +Brand found merely an Irish newspaper-reporter, who was either tired, or +indifferent, or sleepy. They talked about some current topic of the hour +for a few minutes; and then Mr. O'Halloran, with a yawn, rose and said +he must go home for breakfast.</p> + +<p>"Stay a bit, O'Halloran," Lord Evelyn said, in despair; "I—I +wanted—the fact is, Mr. Brand has been asking me about Ferdinand +Lind—"</p> + +<p>"Oh," said the bushy-headed man, with a quick glance of scrutiny at the +tall Englishman. "No, no," he added, with a smile, addressing himself +directly to Brand, "it is no use your touching anything of that kind. +You would want to know too much. You would want to have the earth dug +away from over the catacombs before you went below to follow a solitary +guide with a bit of candle. You could never be brought to understand +that the cardinal principle of all secret societies has been that +obedience is an end and aim in itself, and faith the chiefest of all the +virtues. You wouldn't take anything on trust; you have the pure English +temperament."</p> + +<p>Brand laughed, and said nothing. But O'Halloran sat down again, and +began to talk in an idle, hap-hazard sort of fashion of the various +secret societies, religious, social, political that had become known to +the world; and of their aims, and their working, and how they had so +often fallen away into the mere preservation of mummeries, or declared +themselves only by the commission of useless deeds of revenge.</p> + +<p>"Ah," said Brand, eagerly, "that is precisely what I have been urging on +Lord Evelyn. How can you know, in joining such an association, that you +are not becoming the accomplices of men who are merely planning +assassination? And what good can come of that? How are you likely to +gain anything by the dagger? The great social and political changes of +the world come in tides; you can neither retard them nor help them by +sticking pins in the sand."</p> + +<p>"I am not so sure," said the other, doubtfully. "A little wholesome +terrorism has sometimes played its part. The 1868 amnesty to the Poles +in Siberia was not so long after—not more than a year after, I +think—that little business of Berezowski. Faith, what a chance that man +had!"</p> + +<p>"Who?"</p> + +<p>"Berezowski," said he, with an air of contemplation. "The two biggest +scoundrels in the world in one carriage; <!-- Page 34 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span>and he had two shots at them. +Well, well, Orsini succeeded better."</p> + +<p>"Succeeded?" said George Brand. "Do you call that success? He had the +reward that he richly merited, at all events."</p> + +<p>"You do not think he was successful?" he said, calmly. "Then you do not +know how the kingdom of Italy came by its liberty. Who do you think was +the founder of that kingdom of Italy?—which God preserve till it become +something better than a kingdom! Not Cavour, with all his wiliness; not +your Galantuomo, the warrior who wrote up Aspromonte in the face of all +the world as the synonyme for the gratitude of kings; not Garibaldi, +who, in spite of Aspromonte, has become now merely the <i>concierge</i> to +the House of Savoy. The founder of the kingdom of Italy was Felix +Orsini—and whether heaven or hell contains him, I drink his health!"</p> + +<p>He suited the action to the word. Brand looked on, not much impressed.</p> + +<p>"That is all nonsense, O'Halloran!" Lord Evelyn said, bluntly.</p> + +<p>"I tell you," O'Halloran said, with some vehemence, "that the 14th of +January, 1858, kept Louis Napoleon in such a state of tremor, that he +would have done a good deal more than lend his army to Sardinia to sweep +the Austrians out rather than abandon himself to the fate that Cavour +plainly and distinctly indicated. But for the threat of another dose of +Orsini pills, do you think you would ever have heard of Magenta and +Solferino?"</p> + +<p>He seemed to rouse himself a bit now.</p> + +<p>"No," he said, "I do not approve of assassination as a political weapon. +It seldom answers. But it has always been the policy of absolute +governments, and of their allies the priests and the police, to +attribute any murders that might occur to the secret societies, and so +to terrify stupid people. It is one of the commonest slanders in +history. Why, everybody knows how Fouche humbugged the First Napoleon, +and got up vague plots to prove that he, and he alone, knew what was +going on. When Karl Sand killed Kotzebue—oh, of course, that was a fine +excuse for the German kings and princes to have another raid against +free speech, though Sand declared he had nothing in the world to do with +either the Tugendbund or any such society. Who now believes that Young +Italy killed Count Rossi? Rossi was murdered by the agents of the +clericals; it was distinctly proved. But any stick is good enough to +beat a dog with. No matter what <!-- Page 35 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span>the slander is, so long as you can get +up a charge, either for the imprisoning of a dangerous enemy or for +terrifying the public mind. You yourself, Mr. Brand—I can see that your +only notion of the innumerable secret societies now in Europe is that +they will probably assassinate people. That's what they said about the +Carbonari too. The objects of the Carbonari were plain as plain could +be; but no sooner had General Pepe kicked out Ferdinand and put in a +constitutional monarch, than Austria must needs attribute every murder +that was committed, to those detestable Carbonari, so that she should +call upon Prussia and Russia to join her in strangling the infant +liberties of Europe. You see, we can't get at those Royal slanderers. We +can get at a man like Sir James Graham, when we force him to apologize +in the House of Commons for having said that Mazzini instigated the +assassination of the spies Emiliani and Lazzareschi."'</p> + +<p>"But, good heavens!" exclaimed Brand, "does anybody doubt that that was +a political double murder?"</p> + +<p>O'Halloran shrugged his shoulders, and smiled.</p> + +<p>"You may call it murder if you like; others might call it a fitting +punishment. But all I was asking you to do was to remove from your mind +that bugbear that the autocratic governments of Europe have created for +their own uses. No secret society—if you except those Nihilists, who +appear to have gone mad altogether—I say, no secret society of the +present day recognizes political assassination as a normal or desirable +weapon; though it may have to be resorted to in extreme cases. You, as +an individual, might, in certain circumstances, lawfully kill a man; but +that is neither the custom, nor the object, nor the chief thought of +your life."</p> + +<p>"And are there many of these societies?" Brand asked.</p> + +<p>O'Halloran had carelessly lit himself another pipe.</p> + +<p>"Europe is honey-combed with them. They are growing in secret as rapidly +as some kindred societies are growing in the open. Look at the German +socialists—in 1871 they polled only 120,000 votes; in 1874 they polled +340,000: I imagine that Herr Furst von Bismarck will find some +difficulty in suppressing that Frankenstein monster he coquetted so long +with. Then the Knights of Labor in America: you will hear something of +them by-and-by, or I am mistaken. In secret and in the open alike there +is a vast power growing and growing, increasing in volume and bulk from +hour to hour, from year to year, God only knows in what fashion it will +reveal itself. But you may depend on it that when the spark does spring +out of the cloud—when the clearance of the <!-- Page 36 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span>atmosphere is due—people +will look back on 1688, and 1798, and 1848 as mere playthings. The Great +Revolution is still to come; it may be nearer than some imagine."</p> + +<p>He had grown more earnest, both in his manner and his speech.</p> + +<p>"Well," George Brand said, "timid people may reassure themselves. Where +there are so many societiets, there will be as many different aims. +Some, like the wilder German socialists, will want a general +participation of property; others a demolition of the churches and +crucifixion of the priests; others the establishment of a Universal +Republic. There may be a great deal of powder stored up, but it will all +go off in different directions, in little fireworks."</p> + +<p>A quick light gleamed in those deep-set, lion-like eyes.</p> + +<p>"Very well said!" was the scornful comment. "The Czar himself could not +have expressed his belief, or at least his hope, more neatly. But let me +tell you, sir, that the masses of mankind are not such hopeless idiots +as are some of the feather-headed orators and writers who speak for +them; and that you will appeal to them in vain if you do not appeal to +their sense of justice, and their belief in right, and in the eternal +laws of God. You may have a particular crowd go mad, or a particular +city go mad; but the heart of the people beats true, and if you desire a +great political change, you must appeal to their love of fair and honest +dealing as between man and man. And even if the aims of these societies +are diverse, what then? What would you think, now, if it were possible +to construct a common platform, where certain aims at least could be +accepted by all, and become bonds to unite those who are hoping for +better things all over the earth? That did not occur to you as a +possible thing, perhaps? You have only studied the ways of kings and +governments—each one for itself. 'Come over my boundary, and I will +cleave your head; or, rather, I will send my common people to do it, for +a little blood-letting from time to time is good for that vile and +ignorant body.' But the vile and ignorant body may begin to tire of that +recurrent blood-letting, and might perhaps even say, 'Brother across the +boundary, I have no quarrel with you. You are poor and ignorant like +myself; the travail of the earth lies hard on you; I would rather give +you my hand. If I have any quarrel, surely it is with the tyrants of the +earth, who have kept both you and me enslaved; who have taken away our +children from us; who have left us scarcely bread. How long, O Lord, how +long? We are tired of the reign of Cæsar; we <!-- Page 37 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span>are beaten down with it; +who will help us now to establish the reign of Christ?"</p> + +<p>He rose. Despite the unkempt hair, this man looked quite handsome now, +while this serious look was in his face. Brand began to perceive whence +his friend Evelyn had derived at least some of his inspiration.</p> + +<p>"Meanwhile," O'Halloran said, with a light, scornful laugh, +"Christianity has been of excellent service to Cæsar; it has been the +big policeman of Europe. Do you think these poor wretches would have +been so patient if they had not believed there was some compensation +reserved for them beyond the grave? They would have had Cæsar by the +throat by this time."</p> + +<p>"Then that scheme of co-operation you mentioned," Brand said, somewhat +hastily—for he saw that O'Halloran was about to leave—"that is what +Ferdinand Lind is working at?"</p> + +<p>The other started.</p> + +<p>"I cannot give you any information on that point," said O'Halloran, +gravely. "And I do not think you are likely to get much anywhere if you +are only moved by curiosity, however sympathetic and well-wishing."</p> + +<p>He took up his hat and stick.</p> + +<p>"Good-bye, Mr. Brand," said he; and he looked at him with a kindly look. +"As far as I can judge, you are now in the position of a man at a partly +opened door, half afraid to enter, and too curious to draw back. Well, +my advice to you is—Draw back. Or at least remember this: that before +you enter that room you must be without doubt—<i>and without fear</i>."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2> + +<h3>BON VOYAGE!</h3> + + +<p>Fear he had none. His life was not so valuable to him that he would have +hesitated about throwing himself into any forlorn-hope, provided that he +was satisfied of the justice of the cause. He had dabbled a little in +philosophy, and not only believed that the ordinary altruistic instincts +of mankind could be traced to a purely utilitarian origin, but also +that, on the same theory, the highest form of personal gratification +might be found in the severest form, of self-sacrifice. He did not pity +a martyr; he envied him. But be<!-- Page 38 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span>fore the martyr's joy must come the +martyr's faith. Without that enthusiastic belief in the necessity and +nobleness and value of the sacrifice, what could there be but physical +pain and the despair of a useless death?</p> + +<p><ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: Extra quote deleted from the original text"> +But</ins>, if he had no fear, he had a superabundance +of doubt. He had not all the pliable, receptive, imaginative nature of +his friend, Lord Evelyn. He had more than the ordinary Englishman's +distrust of secrecy. He was not to be won over by the visions of a St. +Simon, the eloquence of a Fourier, the epigrams of a Proudhon: these +were to him but intellectual playthings, of no practical value. It was, +doubtless, a novelty for a young man brought up as Lord Evelyn had been +to associate with a gin-drinking Irish reporter, and to regard him as +the mysterious apostle of a new creed; Brand only saw in O'Halloran a +light-headed, imaginative, talkative person, as safe to trust to for +guidance as a will-o'-the-wisp. It is true that for the time being he +had been thrilled by the passionate fervor of Natalie Lind's singing; +and many a time since he could have fancied that he heard in the +stillness of the night that pathetic and vibrating appeal—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0" style="margin-left: -.5em">"When, when will the Lord cry, 'Revenge, it is mine?'"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>But he dissociated her from her father's schemes altogether. No doubt +she was moved by the generous enthusiasm of a young girl. She had a +warm, human, sympathetic heart; the cry of the poor and the suffering +appealed to her; and she was confident in the success of projects of +which she had been prudently kept ignorant. This was George Brand's +reading. He would not have Natalie Lind associated with <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: "Liecester" in the original text"> +Leicester</ins> Square and a lot of garlic-eating +revolutionaries.</p> + +<p>"But who is this man Lind?" he asked, impatiently, of Lord Evelyn. He +had driven up to his friend's house in Clarges Street, had had luncheon +with him, and they were now smoking a cigarette in the library.</p> + +<p>"You mean his nationality?" said his friend, laughing. "That has puzzled +me, too. He seems, at all events, to have had his finger in a good many +pies. He escaped into Turkey with Bem, I know: and he has been +imprisoned in Russia; and once or twice I have heard him refer to the +amnesty that was proclaimed when Louis Napoleon was presented with an +heir. But whether he is Pole, or Jew, or Slav, there is no doubt about +his daughter being a thorough Hungarian."</p> + +<p>"Not the least," said Brand, with decision. "I have seen lots of women +of that type in Pesth, and in Vienna, too: if <!-- Page 39 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span>you are walking in the +Prater you can always tell the Hungarian women as they drive past. But +you rarely see one as beautiful as she is."</p> + +<p>After awhile Lord Evelyn said,</p> + +<p>"This is Natalie's birthday. By-and-by I am going along to Bond Street +to buy some little thing for her."</p> + +<p>"Then she allows you to make her presents?" Brand said, somewhat coldly.</p> + +<p>"She and I are like brother and sister now," said the pale, deformed +lad, without hesitation. "If I were ill, I think she would be glad to +come and look after me."</p> + +<p>"You have already plenty of sisters who would do that.'"</p> + +<p>"By-the-way, they are coming to town next week with my mother. You must +come and dine with us some night, if you are not afraid to face the +chatter of such a lot of girls."</p> + +<p>"Have they seen Miss Lind?"</p> + +<p>"No, not yet."</p> + +<p>"And how will you explain your latest craze to them, Evelyn? They are +very nice girls indeed, you know; but—but—when they set full cry on +you—I suppose some day I shall have to send them a copy of a newspaper +from abroad, with this kind of thing in it: '<i>Compeared yesterday before +the Correctional Tribunal, Earnest Francis D'Agincourt, Baron Evelyn, +charged with having in his possession two canisters of an explosive +compound and fourteen empty missiles. Further, among the correspondence +of the accused was found—</i>'"</p> + +<p>"'<i>A letter from an Englishman named Brand</i>,'" continued Lord Evelyn, as +he rose and went to the window, "'<i>apparently written under the +influence of nightmare.</i>' Come, Brand, I see the carriage is below. Will +you drive with me to the jeweller's?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly," said his friend; and at this moment the carriage was +announced. "I suppose it wouldn't do for me to buy the thing? You know I +have more money to spend on trinkets than you have."</p> + +<p>They were very intimate friends indeed. Lord Evelyn only said, with a +smile,</p> + +<p>"I am afraid Natalie wouldn't like it."</p> + +<p>But this choosing of a birthday present was a terrible business. The +jeweller was as other jewellers: his designs were mostly limited to the +representation of two objects—a butterfly for a woman, and a horseshoe +for a man. At last Brand, who had been walking about from time to time, +espied, in a distant case, an object which instantly attracted his +attention. It was a flat piece of wood or board, covered with blue +velvet; <!-- Page 40 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span>and on this had been twined an unknown number of yards of the +beautiful thread-like gold chain common to the jewellers' shop-windows +in Venice.</p> + +<p>"Here you are, Evelyn," Brand said at once. "Why not buy a lot of this +thin chain, and let her make it into any sort of decoration that she +chooses?"</p> + +<p>"It is an ignominious way out of the difficulty," said the other: but he +consented; and yard after yard of the thread-like chain was unrolled. +When allowed to drop together, it seemed to go into no compass at all.</p> + +<p>They went outside.</p> + +<p>"What are you going to do now, Brand?"</p> + +<p>The other was looking cheerless enough.</p> + +<p>"I?" he said, with the slightest possible shrug. "I suppose I must go +down to the club, and yawn away the time till dinner."</p> + +<p>"Then why not come with me? I have a commission or two from my +sisters—one as far out as Notting Hill; but after that we can drive +back through the Park and call on the Linds. I dare say Lind will be +home by that time."</p> + +<p>Lord Evelyn's friend was more than delighted. As they drove from place +to place he was a good deal more talkative than was his wont; and, among +other things, confessed his belief that Ferdinand Lind seemed much too +hard-headed a man to be engaged in mere visionary enterprises. But +somehow the conversation generally came round to Mr. Lind's daughter; +and Brand seemed very anxious to find out to what degree she was +cognizant of her father's schemes. On this point Lord Evelyn knew +nothing.</p> + +<p>At last they arrived at the house in Curzon Street, and found Mr. Lind +just on the point of entering. He stayed to receive them; went up-stairs +with them to the drawing-room, and then begged them to excuse him for a +few minutes. Presently Natalie Lind appeared.</p> + +<p>How this man envied his friend Evelyn the frank, sister-like way in +which she took the little present, and thanked him, for that and his +kind wishes!</p> + +<p>"Ah, do you know," she said, "what a strange birthday gift I had given +me this morning? See!"</p> + +<p>She brought over the old-fashioned silver locket, and told them the +whole story.</p> + +<p>"Is it not strange?" she said. "'<i>From Natalie to Natalushka</i>:' that is, +from myself to myself. What can it mean?"</p> + +<p>"Have you not asked your father, then, about his mysterious messenger?" +Brand said. He was always glad to ask <!-- Page 41 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span>this girl a question, for she +looked him so straight in the face with her soft, dark eyes, as she +answered,</p> + +<p>"He has only now come home. I will directly."</p> + +<p>"But why does your father call you Natalushka, Natalie?" asked Lord +Evelyn.</p> + +<p>There was the slightest blush on the pale, clear face.</p> + +<p>"It was a nickname they gave me, I am told, when I was child. They used +to make me angry."</p> + +<p>"And now, if one were to call you Natalushka?"</p> + +<p>"My anger would be too terrible," she said, with a smile. "Papa alone +dares to do that."</p> + +<p>Presently her father came into the room.</p> + +<p>"Oh, papa," said she, "I have discovered who the lady is whom you got to +bring me the flowers. And see! she has given me this strange little +locket. Look at the inscription—'<i>From Natalie to Natalushka</i>.'"</p> + +<p>Lind only glanced at the locket. His eyes were fixed on the girl.</p> + +<p>"Where did you see the—the lady?" he asked, coldly.</p> + +<p>"In the Park. But she did not stay a moment, or speak; she hurried on, +and Anneli thought she was crying. I almost think so too. Who was it, +papa? May I speak to her, if I see her again?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Lind turned aside for a moment. Brand, who was narrowly watching +him, was convinced that the man was in a passion of rage. But when he +turned again he was outwardly calm.</p> + +<p>"You will do nothing of the kind, Natalie," he said in measured tones. +"I have warned you before against making indiscriminate acquaintances; +and Anneli, if she is constantly getting such stupidities into her head, +must be sent about her business. I do not wish to hear anything more +about it. Will you ring and ask why tea has not been sent up?"</p> + +<p>The girl silently obeyed. Her father had never spoken to her in this +cold, austere tone before. She sat down at a small table, apart.</p> + +<p>Mr. Lind talked for a minute or two with his guests; then he said,</p> + +<p>"Natalie, you have the zither there; why do you not play us something?"</p> + +<p>She turned to the small instrument, and, after a second or two, played a +few notes: that was all. She rose and said, "I don't think I can play +this afternoon, papa;" and then she left the room.</p> + +<p>Mr. Lind pretended to converse with his guests as before; <!-- Page 42 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span>and tea came +in; but presently he begged to be excused for a moment, and left the +room. George Brand rose, and took a turn or two up and down.</p> + +<p>"It would take very little," he muttered—for his teeth were set—"to +make me throw that fellow out of the window!"</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" Lord Evelyn said, in great surprise.</p> + +<p>"Didn't you see? She left the room to keep from crying. That miserable +Polish cutthroat—I should like to kick him down-stairs!"</p> + +<p>But at this moment the door opened, and father and daughter entered, +arm-in-arm. Natalie's face was a little bit flushed, but she was very +gentle and affectionate; they had made up that brief misunderstanding, +obviously. And she had brought in her hand a mob-cap of black satin: +would Lord Evelyn allow her to try the effect of twisting those +beautiful golden threads through it?</p> + +<p>"Natalushka," said her father, with great good-humor, "it is your +birthday. Do you think you could persuade Lord Evelyn and Mr. Brand to +come to your dinner-party?"</p> + +<p>It was then explained to the two gentlemen that on this great +anniversary it was the custom of Mr. Lind, when in London, to take his +daughter to dine at some French or Italian restaurant in Regent Street +or thereabouts. In fact, she liked to play at being abroad for an hour +or two; to see around her foreign faces, and hear foreign tongues.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid you will say that it is very easy to remind yourself of the +Continent," said Mr. Lind, smiling—"that you have only to go to a place +where they give you oily food and bad wine."</p> + +<p>"On the contrary," said Brand, "I should thing it very difficult in +London to imagine yourself in a foreign town; for London is drained. +However, I accept the invitation with pleasure."</p> + +<p>"And I," said Lord Evelyn. "Now, must we be off to dress?"</p> + +<p>"Not at all," said Natalie. "Do you not understand that you are abroad, +and walking into a restaurant to dine? And now I will play you a little +invitation—not to dinner; for you must suppose you have dined—and you +come out on the stairs of the hotel, and step into the black gondola."</p> + +<p>She went along to the small table, and sat down to the zither. There +were a few notes of prelude; and then they heard the beautiful low voice +added to the soft tinkling sounds. What did they vaguely make out from +that melodious murmur of Italian?</p> + +<p><!-- Page 43 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span></p><div class="blockquot"><p>Behold the beautiful night—the wind sleeps drowsily—the silent +shores slumber in the dark:</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0" style="margin-left: -.5em">"Sul placido elemento<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Vien meco a navigar!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>The soft wind moves—as it stirs among the leaves—it moves and +dies—among the murmur of the water:</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0" style="margin-left: -.5em">"Lascia l'amico tetto<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Vien meco a navigar!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Now on the spacious mantle—of the already darkening heavens—see, +oh, the shining wonder—how the white stars tremble:</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0" style="margin-left: -.5em">"Ai raggi della luna<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Vien meco a navigar!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<p>Where were they? Surely they have passed out from the darkness of the +narrow canal, and are away on the broad bosom of the lagoon. The Place +of St. Mark is all aglow with its golden points of fire; the yellow +radiance spreads out into the night. And that other wandering mass of +gold—the gondola hung round with lamps, and followed by a dark +procession through the silence of the waters—does not the music come +from thence? Listen, now:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0" style="margin-left: -.5em">"Sul l'onde addormentate<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Vien meco a navigar!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Can they hear the distant chorus, in there at the shore where the people +are walking about in the golden glare of the lamps?</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0" style="margin-left: -.5em">"Vien meco a navigar!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Vien meco a navigar!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Or can some faint echo be carried away out to yonder island, where the +pale blue-white radiance of the moonlight is beginning to touch the tall +dome of San Giorgio?</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0" style="margin-left: -.5em">"—a navigar!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">—a navigar!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<p>"It seems to me," said Lord Evelyn, when the girl rose, with a smile on +her face, "that you do not need to go into Regent Street when you want +to imagine yourself abroad."</p> + +<p>Natalie looked at her watch.</p> + +<p>"If you will excuse me, I will go and get ready now."</p> + +<p>Well, they went to the big foreign restaurant; and had a small table all +to themselves, in the midst of the glare, and <!-- Page 44 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span>the heat, and the +indiscriminate <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: "Bable" in the original text"> +Babel</ins> of tongues. And, under the +guidance of Mr. Brand, they adventured upon numerous articles of food +which were more varied in there names than in their flavor; and they +tasted some of the compounds, reeking of iris-root, that the Neapolitans +call wine, until they fell back on a flask of Chianti, and were content; +and they regarded their neighbors, and were regarded in turn. In the +midst of it all, Mr. Lind, who had been somewhat preoccupied, said +suddenly.</p> + +<p>"Natalie, can you start with me for Leipsic to-morrow afternoon?"</p> + +<p>She was as prompt as a soldier.</p> + +<p>"Yes, papa. Shall I take Anneli or not?"</p> + +<p>"You may if you like."</p> + +<p>After that George Brand seemed to take very little interest in this +heterogeneous banquet: he stared absently at the foreign-looking people, +at the hurrying waiters, at the stout lady behind the bar. Even when Mr. +Lind told his daughter that her black satin mob-cap, with its wonderful +intertwistings of Venetian chain, looked very striking in a mirror +opposite, and when Lord Evelyn eagerly gave his friend the credit of +having selected that birthday gift, he did not seem to pay much heed. +When, after all was over, and he had wished Natalie "<i>Bon voyage</i>" at +the door of the brougham, Lord Evelyn said to him,</p> + +<p>"Come along to Clarges Street now and smoke a cigar."</p> + +<p>"No, thanks!" he said. "I think I will stroll down to my rooms now."</p> + +<p>"What is the matter with you, Brand? You have been looking very glum."</p> + +<p>"Well, I have been thinking that London is a depressing sort of a place +for a man to live in who does not know many people. It is very big, and +very empty. I don't think I shall be able to stand it much longer."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2> + +<h3>IN SOLITUDE.</h3> + + +<p>A blustering, cold morning in March; the skies lowering, the wind +increasing, and heavy showers being driven up from time to time from the +black and threatening south-west. This was strange weather to make a man +think of going to <!-- Page 45 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span>the seaside; and of all places at the seaside to +Dover, and of all places in Dover to the Lord Warden Hotel, which was +sure to be filled with fear-stricken foreigners, waiting for the sea to +calm. Waters, as he packed the small portmanteau, could not at all +understand this freak on the part of his master.</p> + +<p>"If Lord Evelyn calls, sir," he said at the station, "when shall I say +you will be back?"</p> + +<p>"In a few days, perhaps. I don't know."</p> + +<p>He had a compartment to himself; and away the train went through the wet +and dismal and foggy country, with the rain pouring down the panes of +the carriage. The dismal prospect outside, however, did not matter much +to this solitary traveller. He turned his back to the window, and read +all the way down.</p> + +<p>At Dover the outlook was still more dismal. A dirty, yellow-brown sea +was rolling heavily in, springing white along the Admiralty Pier; gusts +of rain were sweeping along the thoroughfare between the station and the +hotel; in the hotel itself the rooms were occupied by a miscellaneous +collection of dissatisfied folk, who aimlessly read the advertisements +in Bradshaw, or stared through the dripping windows at the yellow waves +outside. This was the condition of affairs when George Brand took up his +residence there. He was quite alone; but he had a sufficiency of books +with him; and so deeply engaged was he with these, that he let the +ordinary coffee-room discussions about the weather pass absolutely +unheeded.</p> + +<p>On the second morning a number of the travellers plucked up heart of +grace and embarked, though the weather was still squally. George Brand +was not in the least interested as to the speculations of those who +remained about the responsibilities of the passage. He drew his chair +toward the fire, and relapsed into his reading.</p> + +<p>This day, however, was varied by his making the acquaintance of a little +old French lady, which he did by means of her two granddaughters, +Josephine, and Veronique. Veronique, having been pushed by Josephine, +stumbled against Mr. Brand's knee, and would inevitably have fallen into +the fireplace had he not caught her. Thereupon the little old lady, +hurrying across the room, and looking very much inclined to box the ears +of both Josephine and Veronique, most profusely apologized, in French, +to monsieur. Monsieur replying in that tongue, said it was of no +consequence whatever. Then madame greatly delighted at finding some one, +not a <!-- Page 46 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span>waiter, to whom she could speak in her own language, continued +the conversation, and very speedily made monsieur the confident of all +her hopes and fears about that terrible business the Channel passage. No +doubt monsieur was also waiting for this dreadful storm to abate?</p> + +<p>Monsieur quickly perceived that so long as this voluble little old +lady—who was as yellow as a frog, and had beady black eyes, but whose +manner was exceedingly charming—chose to attach herself to him, his +pursuit of knowledge was not likely to be attended with much success, so +he shut the book on his finger, and pleasantly said to her,</p> + +<p>"Oh no, madame; I am only waiting here for some friends."</p> + +<p>Madame was greatly alarmed: surely they would not cross in such +frightful weather? Monsieur ventured to think it was not so very bad. +Then the little French lady glanced out at the window, and threw up her +hands, and said with a shudder,</p> + +<p>"Frightful! Truly frightful. What should I do with those two little ones +ill, and myself ill? The sea might sweep them away!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Brand, having observed something of the manners of Josephine and +Veronique, was inwardly of opinion that the sea might be worse employed: +but what he said was—</p> + +<p>"You could take a deck-cabin, madame."</p> + +<p>Madame again shuddered.</p> + +<p>"Your friends are English, no doubt, monsieur; the English are not so +much afraid of storms."</p> + +<p>"No, madame, they are not English; but I do not think they would let +such a day as this, for example, hinder them. They are not likely, +however, to be on their way back for a day or two. To-morrow I may run +over to Calais, just on the chance of crossing with them again."</p> + +<p>Here was a mad Englishman, to be sure! When people, driven by dire +necessity, had their heart in their mouth at the very notion of +encountering that rough sea, here was a person who thought of crossing +and returning for no reason on earth—a trifling compliment to his +friends—a pleasure excursion—a break in the monotony of the day!</p> + +<p>"And I shall be pleased to look after the little ones, madame," said he, +politely, "if you are going over."</p> + +<p><ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: Quote deleted from the original text"> +Madame</ins> thanked him very profusely; but assured him +that so long as the weather looked so stormy she could not think of +intrusting Josephine and Veronique to the mercy of the waves.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 47 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p><p>Now, if George Brand had little hope of meeting his friends that day, +he acted pretty much as if he were expecting some one. First of all, he +had secured a saloon-carriage in the afternoon mail-train to London—an +unnecessary luxury for a bachelor well accustomed to the hardships of +travel. Then he had managed to procure a handsome bouquet of freshly-cut +flowers. Finally, there was some mysterious arrangement by which fruit, +cakes, tea, and wine were to be ready at a moment's notice in the event +of that saloon-carriage being required.</p> + +<p>Then, as soon as the rumor went through the hotel that the vessel was in +sight, away he went down the pier, with his coat-collar tightly +buttoned, and his hat jammed down. What a toy-looking thing the steamer +was, away out there in the mists or the rain, with the brown line of +smoke stretching back to the horizon! She was tossing and rolling a good +deal among the brown waves: he almost hoped his friends were not on +board. And he wished that all the more when he at length saw the people +clamber up the gangway—a miserable procession of half-drowned folk, +some of them scarcely able to walk. No; his friends were not there. He +returned to the hotel, and to his books.</p> + +<p>But the attentions of Josephine and Veronique had become too pressing; +so he retired from the reading-room, and took refuge in his own room +up-stairs. It fronted the sea. He could hear the long, monotonous, +continuous wash of the waves: from time to time the windows rattled with +the wind.</p> + +<p>He took from his portmanteau another volume from that he had been +reading, and sat down by the window. But he had only read a line or two +when he turned and looked absently out on the sea. Was he trying to +recall, amidst all that confused and murmuring noise, some other sound +that seemed to haunt him?</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0" style="margin-left: -.5em">"Who is your lady of love, oh ye that pass<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Singing?"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Was he trying to recall that pathetic thrill in his friend Evelyn's +voice which he knew was but the echo of another voice? He had never +heard Natalie Lind read: but he knew that that was how she had read, +when Evelyn's sensitive nature had heard and been permeated by the +strange tremor. And now, as he opened the book again, whose voice was it +he seemed to hear, in the silence of the small room, amidst the low and +constant murmur of the waves?</p> + +<p><!-- Page 48 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0" style="margin-left: -.5em">"—And ye shall die before your thrones be won.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">—Yea, and the changed world and the liberal sun<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Shall move and shine with out us, and we lie<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Dead; but if she too move on earth and live—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But if the old world, with all the old irons rent,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Laugh and give thanks, shall we be not content?<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Nay, we shall rather live, we shall not die,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Life being so little, and death so good to give.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">* * * * * * *<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0" style="margin-left: -.5em">"—But ye that might be clothed with all things pleasant,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Ye are foolish that put off the fair soft present,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">That clothe yourselves with the cold future air;<br /></span> +<span class="i5">When mother and father, and tender sister and brother,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the old live love that was shall be as ye,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Dust, and no fruit of loving life shall be.<br /></span> +<span class="i3">—She shall be yet who is more than all these were,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Than sister or wife or father unto us or mother."<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<p>He turned again to the window, to the driven yellow sea, and the gusts +of rain. Surely there was no voice to be heard from other and farther +shores?</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0" style="margin-left: -.5em">"—Is this worth life, is this to win for wages?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Lo, the dead mouths of the awful gray-grown ages,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">The venerable, in the past that is their prison,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">In the outer darkness, in the unopening grave,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Laugh, knowing how many as ye now say have said—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">How many, and all are fallen, are fallen and dead:<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Shall ye dead rise, and these dead have not risen?<br /></span> +<span class="i5">—Not we but she, who is tender and swift to save.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0" style="margin-left: -.5em">"—Are ye not weary, and faint not by the way,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Seeing night by night devoured of day by day,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Seeing hour by hour consumed in sleepless fire?<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Sleepless: and ye too, when shall ye too sleep?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">—We are weary in heart and head, in hands and feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And surely more than all things sleep were sweet,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Than all things save the inexorable desire<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Which whoso knoweth shall neither faint nor weep."<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<p>He rose, and walked up and down for a time. What would one not give for +a faith like that?</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0" style="margin-left: -.5em">"—Is this so sweet that one were fain to follow?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Is this so sure where all men's hopes are hollow,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Even this your dream, that by much tribulation<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Ye shall make whole flawed hearts, and bowed necks straight?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">—Nay, though our life were blind, our death were fruitless,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Not therefore were the whole world's high hope rootless;<br /></span> +<span class="i3">But man to man, nation would turn to nation,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">And the old life live, and the old great world be great."<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<p>With such a faith—with that "inexorable desire" burning <!-- Page 49 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span>in the heart +and the brain—surely one could find the answer easy enough to the last +question of the poor creatures who wonder at the way-worn pilgrims,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0" style="margin-left: -.5em">"—Pass on then, and pass by us and let us be,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">For what light think ye after life to see?<br /></span> +<span class="i3">And if the world fare better will ye <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: text had ".", but original from Swinburne has "?""> +know?</ins></span> +<span class="i5">And if man triumph who shall seek you and say?"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>That he could answer for himself, at any rate. He was not one to put +much store by the fair soft present; and if he were to enter upon any +undertaking such as that he had had but a glimpse of, neither personal +reward nor hope of any immediate success would be the lure. He would be +satisfied to know that his labor or his life had been well spent. But +whence was to come that belief? whence the torch to kindle the sacred +fire?</p> + +<p>The more he read, during these days of waiting, of the books and +pamphlets he had brought with him, the less clear seemed the way before +him. He was struck with admiration when he read of those who had +forfeited life or liberty in this or the other cause; and too often with +despair when he came to analyze their aims. Once or twice, indeed, he +was so moved by the passionate eloquence of some socialist writer that +he was ready to say, "Well, the poor devils have toiled long enough; +give them their turn, let the revolution cost what it may!" And then +immediately afterward: "What! Stir up the unhappy wretches to throw +themselves on the bayonets of the standing armies of Europe? There is no +emancipation for them that way."</p> + +<p>But when he turned from the declamation and the impracticable designs of +this impassioned literature to the vast scheme of co-operation that had +been suggested rather than described to him, there seemed more hope. If +all these various forces that were at work could be directed into one +channel, what might they not accomplish? Weed out the visionary, the +impracticable, the anarchical from their aims; and then what might not +be done by this convergence of all these eager social movements? Lind, +he argued with himself, was not at all a man likely to devote himself to +optimistic dreams. Further than that—and here he was answering a +suspicion that again and again recurred to him—what if, in such a great +social movement, men were to be found who were only playing for their +own hand? That was the case in every such combination. But false or +self-seeking agents neither destroyed the nobleness of the work nor +could defeat it in the <!-- Page 50 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span>end if it were worthy to live. They might try to +make for themselves what use they could of the current, but they too +were swept onward to the sea.</p> + +<p>So he argued, and communed, and doubted, and tried to believe. And all +through it—whether he paced up and down by the sea in the blustering +weather, or strolled away through the town and up the face of the tall +white cliff, or lay awake in the dark night, listening to the rush and +moan of the waves—all through these doubts and questions there was +another and sweeter and clearer sound, that seemed to come from afar—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0" style="margin-left: -.5em">"She shall be yet who is more than all these were,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Than sister or wife or father unto us or mother."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>However loud the sea was at night, that was the sound he heard, clear +and sweet—the sound of a girl's voice, that had joy in it, and faith in +the future, and that spoke to him of what was to be.</p> + +<p>Well, the days passed; and still his friends did not come. He had many +trips across, to while away the time: and had become great friends with +the stout, black-haired French captain. He had conveyed Josephine and +Veronique and their little grandmother safely over, and had made them as +comfortable as was possible under trying circumstances. And always and +every day there were freshly-cut flowers and renewed fruit, and a +re-engaged saloon-carriage waiting for those strangers who did not come; +until both hotel people and railway people began to think Mr. Brand as +mad as the little French lady assured herself he was, when he said he +meant to cross the Channel twice for nothing.</p> + +<p>At last—at last! He had strolled up to the Calais station, and was +standing on the platform when the train came in. But there was no need +for him to glance eagerly up and down at the now opening doors; for who +was this calmly regarding him—or rather regarding him with a smile of +surprise? Despite the big furred cloak and the hood, he knew at once; he +darted forward, lifted the lower latch and opened the door, and gave her +his hand.</p> + +<p>"Oh, how do you do, Mr. Brand?" said she, with a pleasant look of +welcome. "Who could have expected to meet you here?"</p> + +<p>He was confused, embarrassed, bewildered. This voice so strangely +recalled those sounds that had been haunting him for days. He could only +stammer out,</p> + +<p>"I—I happened to be at Dover, and thought I would run <!-- Page 51 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span>over here for a +little bit. How lucky you are—it is such a beautiful day for crossing."</p> + +<p>"That is good news; I must tell papa," said Natalie, cheerfully, as she +turned again to the open door.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> + +<h3>A DISCOVERY.</h3> + + +<p>"And you are going over too? And to London also? Oh, that will be very +nice."</p> + +<p>It seemed so strange to hear this voice, that had for days sounded to +him as if it were far away, now quite close, and talking in this +friendly and familiar fashion. Then she had brought the first of the +spring with her. The air had grown quite mild: the day was clear and +shining; even the little harbor there seemed bright and picturesque in +the sun. He had never before considered Calais a very beautiful place.</p> + +<p>And as for her; well, she appeared pleased to have met with this +unexpected companion; and she was very cheerful and talkative as they +went down to the quay, these two together. And whether it was that she +was glad to be relieved from the cramped position of the carriage, or +whether it was that his being taller than she gave countenance to her +height, or whether it was merely that she rejoiced in the sweet air and +the exhilaration of the sunlight, she seemed to walk with even more than +her usual proudness of gait. This circumstance did not escape the eye of +her father, who was immediately behind.</p> + +<p>"Natalie," said he, peevishly, "you are walking as if you wore a sword +by your side."</p> + +<p>She did not seem sorely hurt.</p> + +<p>"'Du Schwert an meiner Linken!'" she said, with a laugh. "It is my +military cloak that makes you think so, papa."</p> + +<p>Why, even this cockle-shell of a steamer looked quite inviting on so +pleasant a morning. And there before them stretched the blue expanse of +the sea, with every wave, and every ripple on every wave, flashing a +line of silver in the sunlight. No sooner were they out of the +yellow-green waters of the harbor than Mr. Brand had his companions +conducted on to the bridge between the paddle-boxes; and the little +crop-haired French boy brought them camp-stools, and their faces were +turned toward England.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 52 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></p><p>"Ah!" said Natalie, "many a poor wretch has breathed more freely when +at last he found himself looking out for the English shore. Do you +remember old Anton Pepczinski and his solemn toast, papa?"</p> + +<p>She turned to George Brand.</p> + +<p>"He was an old Polish gentleman, who used to come to our house in the +evening, he and a few others of his countrymen, to smoke and play chess. +But always, some time during the evening, he would say, 'Gentlemen, a +Pole is never ungrateful. I call on you to drink this toast: <i>To the +white chalk-line beyond the sea</i>!'" And then she added, quickly, "If I +were English, how proud I should be of England!"</p> + +<p>"But why?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Because she has kept liberty alive in Europe," said the girl, proudly; +"because she offers an exile to the oppressed, no matter from whence +they come; because she says to the tyrant, 'No, you cannot follow.' Why, +when even your beer-men your dray-men know how to treat a Haynau, what +must the spirit of the country be? If only those fine fellows could have +caught Windischgratz too!"</p> + +<p>Her father laughed at her vehemence; Brand did not. That strange +vibration in the girl's voice penetrated him to the heart.</p> + +<p>"But then," said he, after a second or two, "I have been amusing myself +for some days back by reading a good deal of political writing, mostly +by foreigners; and if I were to believe what they say, I should take it +that England was the most superstitious, corrupt, enslaved nation on the +face of the earth! What with its reverence for rank, its worship of the +priesthood—oh, I cannot tell you what a frightful country it is!"</p> + +<p>"Who were the writers?" Mr. Lind asked.</p> + +<p>Brand named two or three, and instantly the attention of the others +seemed arrested.</p> + +<p>"Oh, that is the sort of literature you have been reading?" he said, +with a quick glance.</p> + +<p>"I have had some days' idleness."</p> + +<p>"Excuse me," said the other, with a smile; "but I think you might have +spent it better. That kind of literature only leads to disorder and +anarchy. It may have been useful at one time; it is useful no longer. +Enough of ploughing has been done: we want sowing done now—we want +writers who will build up instead of pulling down. Those Nihilists," he +added, almost with a sigh, "are becoming more and more impracticable. +They aim at scarcely anything beyond destruction."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 53 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span></p><p>Here Natalie changed the conversation. This was too bright and +beautiful a day to admit of despondency.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you love the sea, Mr. Brand?" she said. "All Englishmen do. +And yachting—I suppose you go yachting?"</p> + +<p>"I have tried it; but it is too tedious for me," said Brand. "The sort +of yachting I like is in a vessel of five thousand tons, going three +hundred and eighty miles a day. With half a gale of wind in your teeth +in the 'rolling Forties,' then there is some fun."</p> + +<p>"I must go over to the States very soon," Mr. Lind said.</p> + +<p>"Papa!"</p> + +<p>"The worst of it is," her father said, without heeding that exclamation +of protest, "that I have so much to do that can only be done by word of +mouth."</p> + +<p>"I wish I could take the message for you," Brand said, lightly. "When +the weather looks decent, I very often take a run across to New York, +put up for a few days at the Brevoort House, and take the next ship +home. It is very enjoyable, especially if you know the officers. Then +the bagman—I have acquired a positive love for the bagman."</p> + +<p>"The what?" said Natalie.</p> + +<p>"The bagman. The 'commy' his friends call him. The commercial traveller, +don't you know? He is a most capital fellow—full of life and fun, +desperately facetious, delighting in practical jokes: altogether a +wonderful creature. You begin to think you are in another +generation—before England became melancholy—the generation, for +example, that roared over the adventures of Tom and Jerry."</p> + +<p>Natalie did not know who Tom and Jerry were; but that was of little +consequence; for at this moment they began to descry "the white +chalk-line beyond the sea"—the white line of the English coast. And +they went on chatting cheerfully; and the sunlight flashed its diamonds +on the blue waters around them, and the white chalk cliffs became more +distinct.</p> + +<p>"And yet it seems so heartless for one to be going back to idleness," +Natalie Lind said, absently. "Papa works as hard in England as anywhere +else; but what can I do? To think of one going back to peaceful days, +and comfort, and pleasant friends, when others have to go through such +misery, and to fight against such persecution! When Vjera Sassulitch +offered me her hand—"</p> + +<p>She stopped abruptly, with a quick, frightened look, first at George +Brand, then at her father.</p> + +<p>"You need not hesitate, Natalie," her father said, calmly. <!-- Page 54 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span>"Mr. Brand +has given me his word of honor he will reveal nothing he may hear from +us."</p> + +<p>"I do not think you need be afraid," said Brand; but all the same he was +conscious of a keen pang of mortification. He, too, had noticed that +quick look of fright and distrust. What did it mean, then? "<i>You are +beside us, you are near to us; but you are not of us, you are not with +us.</i>"</p> + +<p>He was silent, and she was silent too. She seemed ashamed of her +indiscretion, and would say nothing further about Vjera Sassulitch.</p> + +<p>"Don't imagine, Mr. Brand," said her father, to break this awkward +silence, "that what Natalie says is true. She is not going to be so idle +as all that. No; she has plenty of hard work before her—at least, I +think it hard work—translating from the German into Polish."</p> + +<p>"I wish I could help," Brand said, in a low voice. "I do not know a word +of Polish."</p> + +<p>"You help?" she said, regarding him with the beautiful dark eyes, that +had a sudden wonder in them. "Would you, if you knew Polish?"</p> + +<p>He met that straight, fearless glance without flinching; and he said +"Yes," while they still looked at each other. Then her eyes fell; and +perhaps there was the slightest flush of embarrassment, or pleasure, on +the pale, handsome face.</p> + +<p>But how quickly her spirits rose! There was no more talk of politics as +they neared England. He described the successive ships to her; he called +her attention to the strings of wild-duck flying up Channel; he named +the various headlands to her. Then, as they got nearer and nearer, the +little Anneli had to be sought out, and the various travelling +impedimenta got together. It did not occur to Mr. Lind or his daughter +as strange that George Brand should be travelling without any luggage +whatever.</p> + +<p>But surely it must have occurred to them as remarkable that a bachelor +should have had a saloon-carriage reserved for himself—unless, indeed, +they reflected that a rich Englishman was capable of any whimsical +extravagance. Then, no sooner had Miss Lind entered this carriage, than +it seemed as though everything she could think of was being brought for +her. Such flowers did not grow in railway-stations—especially in the +month of March. Had the fruit dropped from the telegraph-poles? Cakes, +wine, tea, magazines and newspapers appeared to come without being asked +for.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Brand," said Natalie, "you must be an English <!-- Page 55 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span>Monte Cristo: do you +clap your hands, and the things appear?"</p> + +<p>But a Monte Cristo should never explain. The conjuror who reveals his +mechanism is no longer a conjuror. George Brand only laughed, and said +he hoped Miss Lind would always find people ready to welcome her when +she reached English shores.</p> + +<p>As they rattled along through those shining valleys—the woods and +fields and homesteads all glowing in the afternoon sun—she had put +aside her travelling-cloak and hood, for the air was quite mild. Was it +the drawing off of the hood, or the stir of wind on board the steamer, +that had somewhat disarranged her hair?—at all events, here and there +about her small ear or the shapely neck there was an escaped curl of +raven-black. She had taken off her gloves, too: her hands, somewhat +large, were of a beautiful shape, and transparently white. The magazines +and newspapers received not much attention—except from Mr. Lind, who +said that at last he should see some news neither a week old nor +fictitious. As for these other two, they seemed to find a wonderful lot +to talk about, and all of a profoundly interesting character. With a +sudden shock of disappointment George Brand found that they were almost +into London.</p> + +<p>His hand-bag was at once passed by the custom-house people; and he had +nothing to do but say good-bye. His face was not over-cheerful.</p> + +<p>"Well, it was a lucky meeting," Mr. Lind said. "Natalie ought to thank +you for being so kind to her."</p> + +<p>"Yes; but not here," said the girl, and she turned to him. "Mr. Brand, +people who have travelled so far together should not part so quickly: it +is miserable. Will you not come and spend the evening with us?"</p> + +<p>"Natalie will give us something in the way of an early dinner," said Mr. +Lind, "and then you can make her play the zither for you."</p> + +<p>Well, there was not much hesitation about his accepting. That +drawing-room, with its rose-and-green-shaded candles, was not as other +drawing-rooms in the evening. In that room you could hear the fountains +plashing in the Villa Reale, and the Capri fishermen singing afar, and +the cattle-bells chiming on the Campagna, and the gondolas sending their +soft chorus across the lagoon. When Brand left his bag in the cloak-room +at the station he gave the porter half a crown for <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: "carring" in the original text"> +carrying</ins> thither, which was unnecessary. Nor was there any hopeless +apathy on his face as he drove away with these <!-- Page 56 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span>two friends through the +darkening afternoon, in the little hired brougham. When they arrived in +Curzon Street, he was even good enough to assist the timid little Anneli +to descend from the box; but this was in order that he might slip a tip +into the hand of the coachman. The coachman scarcely said "Thank you." +It was not until afterward that he discovered he had put half a +sovereign into his breeches-pocket as if it were an ordinary sixpence.</p> + +<p>Natalie Lind came down to dinner in a dress of black velvet, with a +mob-cap of rose-red silk. Round her neck she wore a band of Venetian +silver-work, from the centre of which was suspended the little +old-fashioned locket she had received in Hyde Park. George Brand +remembered the story, and perhaps was a trifle surprised that she should +wear so conspicuously the gift of a stranger.</p> + +<p>She was very friendly, and very cheerful. She did not seem at all +fatigued with her travelling; on the contrary, it was probably the +sea-air and the sunlight that had lent to her cheek a faint flush of +color. But at the end of dinner her father said.</p> + +<p>"Natalushka, if we go into the drawing-room, and listen to music, after +so long a day, we shall all go to sleep. You must come into the +smoking-room with us."</p> + +<p>"Very well, papa."</p> + +<p>"But, Miss Lind," the other gentleman remonstrated, "a velvet +dress—tobacco-smoke—"</p> + +<p>"My dresses must take their chance," said Miss Lind. "I wear them to +please my friends, not to please chance acquaintances who may call +during the day."</p> + +<p>And so they retired to the little den at the end of the passage; and +Natalie handed Mr. Brand a box of cigars to choose from, and got down +from the rack her father's long-stemmed, red-bowled pipe. Then she took +a seat in the corner by the fire, and listened.</p> + +<p>The talk was all about that anarchical literature that Brand had been +devouring down at Dover; and he was surprised to find how little +sympathy Lind had with writing of that kind, though he had to confess +that certain of the writers were personal friends of his own. Natalie +sat silent, listening intently, and staring into the fire.</p> + +<p>At last Brand said,</p> + +<p>"Of course, I had other books. For example, one I see on your shelves +there." He rose, and took down the "Songs before Sunrise." "Miss Lind," +he said, "I am afraid you will laugh at me; but I have been haunted with +the notion <!-- Page 57 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span>that you have been teaching Lord Evelyn how to read poetry, +or that he has been unconsciously imitating you. I heard him repeat some +passages from 'The Pilgrims,' and I was convinced he was reproducing +something he had heard from you. Well—I am almost ashamed to ask you—"</p> + +<p>A touch of embarrassment appeared on the girl's face, and she glanced at +her father.</p> + +<p>"Yes, certainly, Natalie; why not?"</p> + +<p>"Well," she said, lightly, "I cannot read if I am stared at. You must +remain as you are."</p> + +<p>She took the book from him, and passed to the other side of the room, so +that she was behind them both. There was silence for an instant or two +as she turned over the leaves.</p> + +<p>Then the silence was broken; and if Brand was instantly assured that his +surmise was correct, he also knew that here was a more pathetic +cadence—a prouder ring—than any that Lord Evelyn had thrown into the +lines. She read at random—a passage here, a passage there—but always +it seemed to him that the voice was the voice of a herald proclaiming +the new awakening of the world—the evil terrors of the night +departing—the sunlight of liberty and right and justice beginning to +shine over the sea. And these appeals to England!</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0" style="margin-left: -.5em">"Oh thou, clothed round with raiment of white waves,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Thy brave brows lightening through the gray wet air,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thou, lulled with sea-sounds of a thousand caves,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">And lit with sea-shine to thy inland lair,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Whose freedom clothed the naked souls of slaves<br /></span> +<span class="i3">And stripped the muffled souls of tyrants bare,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Oh, by the centuries of thy glorious graves,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">By the live light of the earth that was thy care,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Live, thou must not be dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Live; let thy armed head<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Lift itself up to sunward and the fair<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Daylight of time and man,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Thine head republican,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">With the same splendor on thine helmless hair<br /></span> +<span class="i3">That in his eyes kept up a light<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Who on thy glory gazed away their sacred sight."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The cry there was in this voice! Surely his heart answered,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0" style="margin-left: -.5em">"Oh Milton's land, what ails thee to be dead!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Was it in this very room, he wondered, that the old Polish refugee was +used to lift up his trembling hand and bid his compatriots drink to "the +white chalk-line beyond the sea?" <!-- Page 58 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span>How could he forget, as he and she +sat together that morning, and gazed across the blue waters to the far +and sunlit line of coast, the light that shone on her face as she said, +"If I were English, how proud I should be of England!" And this England +of her veneration and her love—did it not contain some, at least, who +would answer to her appeal?</p> + +<p>Presently Natalie Lind shut the book and gently laid it down, and stole +out of the room. She was gone only for a few seconds. When she returned, +she had in her hand a volume of sketches, of which she had been speaking +during dinner.</p> + +<p>He did not open this volume at once. On the contrary, he was silent for +a little while; and then he looked up, and addressed Natalie, with a +strange grave smile on his face.</p> + +<p>"I was about to tell your father, Miss Lind, when you came in, that if I +could not translate for you, or carry a message across the Atlantic for +him, he might at least find something else that I can do. At all events, +may I say that I am willing to join you, if I can be of any help at +all?"</p> + +<p>Ferdinand Lind regarded him for a second, and said, quite calmly,</p> + +<p>"It is unnecessary. You have already joined us."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2> + +<h3>A NIGHT IN VENICE.</h3> + + +<p>The solitary occupant of this railway-carriage was apparently reading; +but all the same he looked oftener at his watch than at his book. At +length he definitely shut the volume and placed it in his +travelling-bag. Then he let down the carriage-window, and looked out +into the night.</p> + +<p>The heavens were clear and calm; the newly-risen moon was but a thin +crescent of silver; in the south a large planet was shining. All around +him, as it seemed, stretched a vast plain of water, as dark and silent +and serene as the overarching sky. Then, far ahead, he could catch a +glimpse of a pale line stretching across the watery plain—a curve of +the many-arched viaduct along which the train was thundering; and beyond +that again, and low down at the horizon, two or three minute and dusky +points of orange. These lights were the lights of Venice.</p> + +<p>This traveller was not much hampered with luggage. <!-- Page 59 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span>When finally the +train was driven into the glare of the station, and the usual roar and +confusion began, he took his small bag in his hand and rapidly made his +way through the crowd; then out and down the broad stone steps, and into +a gondola. In a couple of minutes he was completely away from all that +glare and bustle and noise; nothing around him but darkness and an +absolute silence.</p> + +<p>The city seemed as the City of the Dead. The tall and sombre buildings +on each side of the water-highway were masses of black—blackest of all +where they showed against the stars. The ear sought in vain for any +sound of human life; there was nothing but the lapping of the water +along the side of the boat, and the slow, monotonous plash of the oar.</p> + +<p>Father and farther into the silence and the darkness; and now here and +there a window, close down to the water, and heavily barred with +rectangular bars of iron, shows a dull red light; but there is no sound, +nor any passing shadow within. The man who is standing by the +hearse-like cabin of the gondola observes and thinks. These black +buildings; the narrow and secret canals; the stillness of the night: are +they not suggestive enough—of revenge, a quick blow, and the silence of +the grave? And now, as the gondola still glides on, there is heard a +slow and distant tolling of bells. The Deed is done, then?—no longer +will the piteous hands be thrust out of the barred window—no longer +will the wild cry for help startle the passer-by in the night-time. And +now again, as the gondola goes on its way, another sound—still more +muffled and indistinct—the sound of a church organ, with the solemn +chanting of voices. Are they praying for the soul of the dead? The sound +becomes more and more distant; the gondola goes on its way.</p> + +<p>The new-comer has no further time for these idle fancies. At the Rialto +bridge he stops the gondola, pays the man, and goes ashore. Then, +rapidly ascending the steps, he crosses the bridge, descends the other +side, and again jumps into a gondola. All this the work of a few +seconds.</p> + +<p>But it was obvious he had been expected. He gave no instructions to the +two men in this second gondola. They instantly went to work, and with a +rapid and powerful stroke sent the boat along—with an occasional +warning cry as they swept by the entrance to one or other of the smaller +canals. Finally, they abruptly left the Grand Canal, close by the Corte +d'Appello, and shot into a narrow opening that seemed little more than a +slit between the buildings.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 60 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p><p>Here they had to go more cautiously; the orange light of their lamp +shining as they passed on the empty archways, and on the iron-barred +windows, and slimy steps. And always this strange silence in the dead or +sleeping city, and the monotonous plash of the oars, and the deep low +cry of "Sia premi!" or "Sia stali!" to give warning of their approach. +But, indeed, that warning was unnecessary; they were absolutely alone in +this labyrinth of gloomy water-ways.</p> + +<p>At length they shot beneath a low bridge, and stopped at some steps +immediately beyond. Here one of the men, getting out, proceeded to act +as guide to the stranger. They had not far to go. They passed first of +all into a long, low, and foul-smelling archway, in the middle of which +was a narrow aperture protected by an iron gate. The man lit a candle, +opened the gate, and preceded his companion along a passage and up a +stone staircase. The atmosphere of the place was damp and sickly; the +staircase was not more than three feet in width; the feeble glimmer of +the candle did but little to dispel the darkness. Even that was +withdrawn; for the guide, having knocked thrice at a door, blew out the +candle, and retreated down-stairs.</p> + +<p>"<i>The night is dark, brother.</i>"</p> + +<p>"<i>The dawn is near.</i>"</p> + +<p>Instantly the door was thrown open; the dark figure of a man was seen +against the light; he said, "Come in! come in!" and his hand was +outstretched. The stranger seemed greatly surprised.</p> + +<p>"What, you, Calabressa!" he exclaimed. "Your time has not yet expired!"</p> + +<p>"What, no? My faith, I have made it expire!" said the other, airily, and +introducing a rather badly pronounced French word or two into his +Italian. "But come in, come in; take a seat. You are early; you may have +to wait."</p> + +<p>He was an odd-looking person, this tall, thin, elderly man, with the +flowing yellow-white hair and the albino eyes. There was a semi-military +look about his braided coat; but, on the other hand, he wore the cap of +a German student—of purple velvet, with a narrow leather peak. He +seemed to be proud of his appearance. He had a gay manner.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am escaped. Ah, how fine it is! You walk about all day as you +please; you smoke cigarettes; you have your coffee; you go to look at +the young English ladies who come to feed the pigeons in the place."</p> + +<p>He raised two fingers to his lips, and blew a kiss to all the world.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 61 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></p><p>"Such complexions! A wild rose in every cheek! But listen, now; this is +not about an English young lady. I go up to the Church of St. +Mark—besides the bronze horses. I am enjoying the air, when I hear a +sound; I turn; over there I see open windows; ah! the figure in the +white dressing-gown! It is the <i>diva</i> herself. They play the +<i>Barbiere</i> to-night, and she is practicing as she dusts her room. +<i>Una voce poco fa</i>—it thrills all through the square. She puts the +ornaments on the mantel-piece straight. <i>Lo giurai, la vincero!</i>—she +goes to the mirror and makes the most beautiful attitude. Ah, what a +spectacle—the black hair all down—the white dressing-gown—<i>In sono +docile</i>"—and again he kissed his two fingers. Then he said,</p> + +<p>"But now, you. You do not look one day older. And how is Natalie?"</p> + +<p>"Natalie is well, I believe," said the other, gravely.</p> + +<p>"You are a strange man. You have not a soft heart for the pretty +creatures of the world; you are implacable. The little Natalushka, then; +how is she?"</p> + +<p>"The little Natalushka is grown big now; she is quite a woman."</p> + +<p>"A woman! She will marry an Englishman, and become very rich: is not +that so?"</p> + +<p>"Natalie—I mean, Natalushka will not marry," said the other coldly. +"She knows she is very useful to me. She knows I have no other."</p> + +<p>"<i>Maintenant</i>: the business—how goes that?"</p> + +<p>"Elsewhere, well; in England, not quite so well," said Ferdinand Lind. +"But what can you expect? The English think they have no need of +co-operation, except to get their groceries cheap. Why, everything is +done in the open air there. If a scoundrel gets a lash too many in +prison, you have it before Parliament next week. If a school-boy is +kicked by his master, you have all the newspapers in the country ablaze. +The newspapers govern England. A penny journal has more power than the +commander-in-chief."</p> + +<p>"Then why do you remain in England?"</p> + +<p>"It is the safest for me, personally. Then there is most to be done +there. Again, it is the head-quarters of money. Do you see, Calabressa? +One must have money, or one cannot work."</p> + +<p>The albino-looking man lit a cigarette.</p> + +<p>"You despair, then, of England? No, you never despair."</p> + +<p>"There is a prospect. The Southern Englishman is apathetic; he is +interested only, as I have said, in getting his <!-- Page 62 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span>tea and sugar cheap. +But the Northern Englishman is vigorous. The trades' associations in the +North are vast, powerful, wealthy; but they are suspicious of anything +foreign. Members join us; the associations will not. But what do you +think of this, Calabressa: if one were to have the assistance of an +Englishman whose father was one of the great iron-masters; whose name is +well known in the north; who has a large fortune, and a strong will?"</p> + +<p>"You have got such a man?"</p> + +<p>"Not yet. He is only a Friend. But if I do not misjudge him, he will be +a Companion soon. He is a man after my own heart; once with us, all the +powers of the earth will not turn him back."</p> + +<p>"And his fortune?"</p> + +<p>"He will help us with that also, no doubt."</p> + +<p>"But how did it occur to Providence to furnish you with an assistant so +admirably equipped?"</p> + +<p>"Do you mean how did I chance to find him? Through a young English +lord—an amiable youth, who is a great friend of Natalie's—of +Natalushka's. Why, he has joined us, too—"</p> + +<p>"An English milord!"</p> + +<p>"Yes; but it is merely from poetical sympathy. He is pleasant and +warm-hearted, but to us not valuable; and he is poor."</p> + +<p>At this moment a bell rung, apparently in the adjoining apartment. +Calabressa jumped from his chair, and hastened to a door on his left, +which he opened. A <i>portiere</i> prevented anything being seen in the +chamber beyond.</p> + +<p>"Has the summons been answered?" a voice asked, from the other side.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," said Calabressa. "Brother Lind is here."</p> + +<p>"That is well."</p> + +<p>The door was again shut, and Calabressa resumed his seat.</p> + +<p>"Brother Lind," said he, in a low voice, though he leaned back in his +chair, and still preserved that gay manner, "I suppose you do not know +why you have been summoned?"</p> + +<p>"Not I."</p> + +<p>"<i>Bien.</i> But suppose one were to guess? Suppose there is a gentleman +somewhere about who has been carrying his outraging of one's common +notions of decency just a little too far? Suppose it is necessary to +make an example? You may be noble, and have great wealth, and honor, and +smiles from beautiful women; but if some night you find a little bit of +steel getting into your heart, or if some morning you find <!-- Page 63 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span>your coffee +as you drink it burn all the way down until you can feel it burn no +more—what then? You must bid good-bye to your mistresses, and to your +gold plates and feasts, and your fountains spouting perfumes, and all +your titles; is not that so?"</p> + +<p>"But who is it?" said Lind, suddenly bending forward.</p> + +<p>The other regarded him for a moment, playfully.</p> + +<p>"What if I were to mention the '<i>Starving Cardinal</i>?'"</p> + +<p>"Zaccatelli!" exclaimed Lind, with a ghastly pallor appearing for a +moment in the powerful iron-gray face.</p> + +<p>Calabressa only laughed.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, it is beautiful to have all these fine things. And the unhappy +devils who are forced to pawn their last sticks of furniture at the +Monte di Pieta, rather than have their children starve when bread is +dear; how it must gratify them to think of his Eminence seizing the +funds of that flourishing institution to buy up the whole of the grain +in the Papal States! What an admirable speculation! How kind to the +poor, on the part of the Secretary to the Vicar of Christ! What!—do you +think because I am a cardinal I am not to make a profit in corn? I tell +you those people have no business to be miserable—they have no business +to go and pawn their things; if I am allowed to speculate with the +funds, why not? <i>Allons donc!</i>—It is a devilish fine world, merry +gentlemen!"</p> + +<p>"But—but why have they summoned me?" Lind said, in the same low voice.</p> + +<p>"Who knows?" said the other, lightly. "I do not. Come, tell me more +about the little Natalushka. Ah, do I not remember the little minx, when +she came in, after dinner, among all those men, with her '<i>Eljen a +haza</i>!' What has she grown to? what has she become?"</p> + +<p>"Natalie is a good girl," said her father; but he was thinking of other +things.</p> + +<p>"Beautiful?"</p> + +<p>"Some would say so."</p> + +<p>"But not like the English young ladies?"</p> + +<p>"Not at all."</p> + +<p>"I thought not. I remember the black-eyed little one—with her pride in +Batthyany, and her hatred in Gorgey, and all the rest of it. The little +Empress!—with her proud eyes, and her black eyelashes. Do you remember +at Dunkirk, when old Anton <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: "Pepezinski" in the original text"> +Pepczinski</ins> met her +for the first time? '<i>Little Natalushka, if I wait for you, will you +marry me when you grow up?</i>" Then the quick answer, "<i>I am not to be +<!-- Page 64 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span>called any longer by my nursery name; but if you will fight for my +country, I will marry you when I grow up.</i>'"</p> + +<p>Light-hearted as this man Calabressa was, having escaped from prison, +and eagerly inclined for chatter, after so long a spell of enforced +silence, he could not fail to perceive that his companion was hardly +listening to him.</p> + +<p>"Mais, mon frere, a quoi bon le regarder?" he said, peevishly. "If it +must come, it will come. Or is it the poor cardinal you pity? That was a +good name they invented for him, anyway—<i>il cardinale affamatore</i>."</p> + +<p>Again the bell rung, and Ferdinand Lind started. When he turned to the +door, it was with a look on his face of some anxiety and apprehension—a +look but rarely seen there. Then the <i>portiere</i> was drawn aside to let +some one come through: at the same moment Lind caught a brief glimpse of +a number of men sitting round a small table.</p> + +<p>The person who now appeared, and whom Lind saluted with great respect, +was a little, sallow-complexioned man, with an intensely black beard and +mustache, and a worn expression of face. He returned Lind's salutation +gravely, and said,</p> + +<p>"Brother, the Council thank you for your prompt answer to the summons. +Meanwhile, nothing is decided. You will attend here to-morrow night."</p> + +<p>"At what hour, Brother Granaglia?"</p> + +<p>"Ten. You will now be conveyed back to the Rialto steps; from thence you +can get to your hotel."</p> + +<p>Lind bowed acquiescence; and the stranger passed again through the +<i>portiere</i> and disappeared.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2> + +<h3>VACILLATION.</h3> + + +<p>"Evelyn, I distrust that man Lind."</p> + +<p>The speaker was George Brand, who kept impatiently pacing up and down +those rooms of his, while his friend, with a dreamy look on the pale and +fine face, lay back in an easy-chair, and gazed out of the clear panes +before him. It was night; the blinds had not been drawn; and the row of +windows, framed by their scarlet curtains, seemed a series of dark-blue +pictures, all throbbing with points of golden fire.</p> + +<p>"Is there any one you do not distrust?" said Lord Evelyn, absently.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 65 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></p><p>"I hope so. But with regard to Lind: I had distinctly to let him know +he must not assume that I am mixed up in any of his schemes until I +definitely say so. When, in answer to my vague proposal, he told me I +had already pledged myself, I confess I was startled for a moment. Of +course it was all very well for him afterward to speak of my declared +sympathy, and of my promise to reveal nothing, as being quite enough, at +least for the earlier stage. If that is so, you may easily acquire +adherents. But either I join with a definite pledge, or not at all."</p> + +<p>"I am inclined to think you had better not join," said Lord Evelyn, +calmly.</p> + +<p>After that there was silence; and Brand's companion lay and looked on +the picture outside, that was so dark and solemn and still. In the midst +of all that blaze of various and trembling lights was the unseen +river—unseen but for the myriad reflections that showed the ripples of +the water; then the far-reaching rows of golden stars, spanning the +bridges, and marking out the long Embankment sweep beyond St. Thomas's +Hospital. On the other side black masses of houses—all their +commonplace detail lost in the mysterious shadow; and over them the +silver crescent of the moon just strong enough to give an edge of white +to a tall shot-tower. Then far away in the east, in the clear dark sky, +the dim gray ghost of a dome; scarcely visible, and yet revealing its +presence; the great dome of St. Paul's.</p> + +<p>This beautiful, still scene—the silence was so intense that the +footfall of a cab-horse crossing Waterloo Bridge could be faintly heard, +as the eye followed the light slowly moving between the two rows of +golden stars—seemed to possess but little interest for the owner of +these rooms. For the moment he had lost altogether his habitual air of +proud reserve.</p> + +<p>"Evelyn," he said, abruptly, "was it not in these very rooms you +insisted that, if the work was good, one need not be too scrupulous +about one's associates?"</p> + +<p>"I believe so," said the other, indifferently: he had almost lost hope +of ever overcoming his friend's inveterate suspicion.</p> + +<p>"Well," Brand said, "there is something in that. I believe in the work +that Lind is engaged in, if I am doubtful about him. And if it pleases +you or him to say that I have joined you merely because I express +sympathy, and promise to say nothing, well and good. But you: you are +more than that?"</p> + +<p><!-- Page 66 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span></p><p>The question somewhat startled Lord Evelyn; and his pale face flushed a +little.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes," he said; "of course. I—I cannot precisely explain to you."</p> + +<p>"I understand. But, if I did really join, I should at least have you for +a companion."</p> + +<p>Lord Evelyn turned and regarded him.</p> + +<p>"If you were to join, it might be that you and I should never see each +other again in this world. Have I not told you?—Your first pledge is +that of absolute obedience; you have no longer a right to your own life; +you become a slave, that others may be free."</p> + +<p>"And you would have me place myself in the power of a man like Lind?" +Brand exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"If it were necessary," said Lord Evelyn, "I should hold myself +absolutely at the bidding of Lind; for I am convinced he is an honest +man, as he is a man of great ability and unconquerable energy and will. +But you would no more put yourself in Lind's power than in mine. Lind is +a servant, like the rest of us. It is true he has in some ways a sort of +quasi-independent position, which I don't quite understand; but as +regards the Society that I have joined, and that you would join, he is a +servant, as you would be a servant. But what is the use of talking? Your +temperament isn't fitted for this kind of work."</p> + +<p>"I want to see my way clear," Brand said, almost to himself.</p> + +<p>"Ah, that is just it; whereas, you must go blindfold."</p> + +<p>Thereafter again silence. The moon had risen higher now; and the paths +in the Embankment gardens just below them had grown gray in the clearer +light. Lord Evelyn lay and watched the light of a hansom that was +rattling along by the side of the river.</p> + +<p>"Do you remember," said Brand, with a smile, "your repeating some verses +here one night; and my suspecting you had borrowed the inspiration +somewhere? My boy, I have found you out. What I guessed was true. I made +bold to ask Miss Lind to read, that evening I came up with them from +Dover."</p> + +<p>"I know it," said Lord Evelyn, quietly.</p> + +<p>"You have seen her, then?" was the quick question.</p> + +<p>"No; she wrote to me."</p> + +<p>"Oh, she writes to you?" the other said.</p> + +<p>"Well, you see, I did not know her father had gone abroad, and I called. +As a rule, she sees no one while her father is <!-- Page 67 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span>away; on the other hand, +she will not say she is not at home if she is at home. So she wrote me a +note of apology for refusing to see me; and in it she told me you had +been very kind to them, and how she had tried to read, and had read very +badly, because she feared your criticism—"</p> + +<p>"I never heard anything like it!" Brand said; and then he corrected +himself. "Well, yes, I have; I have heard you, Evelyn. You have been an +admirable pupil."</p> + +<p>"Now when I think of it," said his friend, putting his hand in his +breast-pocket, "this letter is mostly about you, Brand. Let me see if +there is anything in it you may not see. No; it is all very nice and +friendly."</p> + +<p>He was about to hand over the letter, when he stopped.</p> + +<p>"I do believe," he said, looking at Brand, "that you are capable of +thinking Natalie wrote this letter on purpose you should see it."</p> + +<p>"Then you do me a great injustice," Brand said, without anger. "And you +do her a great injustice. I do not think it needs any <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: "profoundj udge" in the original text"> +profound judge</ins> of character to see what that girl is."</p> + +<p>"For that is one thing I could never forgive you, Brand."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"If you were to suspect Natalie Lind."</p> + +<p>This was no private and confidential communication that passed into +Brand's hand, but a frank, gossiping, sisterly note, stretching out +beyond its initial purpose. And there was no doubt at all that it was +mostly about Brand himself; and the reader grew red as he went on. He +had been so kind to them at Dover; and so interested in her papa's work; +and so anxious to be of service and in sympathy with them. And then she +spoke as if he were definitely pledged to them; and how proud she was to +have another added to the list of her friends. George Brand's face was +as red as his beard when he folded up the letter. He did not immediately +return it.</p> + +<p>"What a wonderful woman that is!" said he, after a time. "I did not +think it would be left for a foreigner to teach me to believe in +England."</p> + +<p>Lord Evelyn looked up.</p> + +<p>"Oh," Brand said, instantly, "I know what you would ask: 'What is my +belief worth?' 'How much do I sympathize?' Well, I can give you a plain +answer: a shilling in the pound income-tax. If England is this +stronghold of the liberties of Europe—if it is her business to be the +lamp-bearer of freedom—if she must keep her shores inviolate as the +<!-- Page 68 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span>refuge of those who are oppressed and persecuted, well, then, I would +pay a shilling income-tax, or double that, treble that, to give her a +navy that would sweep the seas. For a big army there is neither +population, nor sustenance, nor room; but I would give her such a navy +as would let her put the world to defiance."</p> + +<p>"I wish Natalie would teach you to believe in a few other things while +she is about it," said his friend, with a slight and rather sad smile.</p> + +<p>"For example?"</p> + +<p>"In human nature a little bit, for example. In the possibility of a +woman being something else than a drawing-room peacock, or worse. Do you +think she could make you believe that it is possible for a woman to be +noble-minded, unselfish, truth-speaking, modest, and loyal-hearted?"</p> + +<p>"I presume you are describing Natalie Lind herself."</p> + +<p>"Oh," said his friend, with a quick surprise, "then you admit there may +be an exception, after all? You do not condemn the whole race of them +now, as being incapable of even understanding what frank dealing is, or +honor, or justice, or anything beyond their own vain and selfish +caprices?"</p> + +<p>George Brand went to the window.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," said he, "my experience of women has been unfortunate, +unusual. I have not had much chance, especially of late years, of +studying them in their quiet domestic spheres. But otherwise I suppose +my experience is not unusual. Every man begins his life, in his salad +days, by believing the world to be a very fine thing, and women +particularly to be very wonderful creatures—angels, in short, of +goodness, and mercy, and truth, and all the rest of it. Then, judging by +what I have seen and heard, I should say that about nineteen men out of +twenty get a regular facer—just at the most sensitive period of their +life; and then they suddenly believe that women are devils, and the +world a delusion. It is bad logic; but they are not in a mood for +reason. By-and-by the process of recovery begins: with some short, with +others long. But the spring-time of belief, and hope, and rejoicing—I +doubt whether that ever comes back."</p> + +<p>He spoke without any bitterness. If the facts of the world were so, they +had to be accepted.</p> + +<p>"I swallowed my dose of experience a good many years ago," he continued, +"but I haven't got it out of my blood yet. However, I will admit to you +the possibility of there being a few women like Natalie Lind."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 69 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span></p><p>"Well, this is better, at all events," Lord Evelyn said, cheerfully.</p> + +<p>"Beauty, of course, is a dazzling and dangerous thing," Brand said; "for +a man always wants to believe that fine eyes and a sweet voice have a +sweet soul behind them. And very often he finds behind them something in +the shape of a soul that a dog or a cat would be ashamed to own. But as +for Natalie Lind, I don't think one can be deceived. She shows too much. +She vibrates too quickly—too inadvertently—to little chance touches. I +did suspect her, I will confess. I thought she was hired to play the +part of decoy. But I had not seen her for ten minutes before I was +convinced she was playing no part at all."</p> + +<p>"But goodness gracious, Brand, what are we coming to?" Lord Evelyn said, +with a laugh. "What! We already believe in England, and patriotism, and +the love of freedom? And we are prepared to admit that there is one +woman—positively, in the world, one woman—who is not a cheat and a +selfish coquette? Why, where are we to end?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think I said only one woman," Brand replied, quite +good-naturedly; and then he added, with a smile, "You ask where we are +to end. Suppose I were to accept your new religion, Evelyn? Would that +please you? And would it please her, too?"</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said his companion, looking up with a quick glance of pleasure. +But he would argue no more.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I have been too suspicious. It is a habit; I have had to look +after myself pretty much through the world; and I don't overvalue the +honesty of people I don't know. But when I once set my hand to the work, +I am not likely to draw back."</p> + +<p>"You could be of so much more value to them than I can," said Lord +Evelyn, wistfully. "I don't suppose you spend more than half of your +income."</p> + +<p>"Oh, as to that," said Brand, at once, "that is a very different matter. +If they like to take myself and what I can do, well and good; money is a +very different thing."</p> + +<p>His companion raised himself in his chair; and there was surprise on his +face.</p> + +<p>"How can you help them so well as with your money?" he cried. "Why, it +is the very thing they want most."</p> + +<p>"Oh, indeed!" said Brand, coldly. "You see, Evelyn, my father was a +business man; and I may have inherited a commercial way of looking at +things. If I were to give away a lot of money to unknown people, for +unknown purposes, <!-- Page 70 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span>I should say that I was being duped, and that they +were putting the money in their own pocket."</p> + +<p>"My dear fellow!" Lord Evelyn protested; "the need of money is most +urgent. There are printing-presses to be kept going; agents to be paid; +police-spies to be bribed—there is an enormous work to be done, and +money must be spent."</p> + +<p>"All the same," said Brand, who was invariably most resolved when he was +most quiet in his manner, "I shall prefer not running the chance of +being duped in that direction. Besides, I am bound in honor not to do +anything of the kind. I can fling myself away—this is my own lookout; +and my life, or the way I spend it, is not of great consequence to me. +But my father's property, if anything happens to me, ought to go intact +to my sister's boys, to whom, indeed, I have left it by will. I will say +to Lind, 'Is it myself or my money that is wanted: you must choose.'"</p> + +<p>"The question would be an insult."</p> + +<p>"Oh, do you think so? Very well; I will not ask it. But that is the +understanding." Then he added, more lightly, "Why, would you have the +Pilgrim start with his pocket full of sovereigns? His staff and his +wallet are all he is entitled to. And when one is going to make a big +plunge, shouldn't one strip?"</p> + +<p>There was no answer; for Lord Evelyn's quick ear had caught the sound of +wheels in the adjacent street.</p> + +<p>"There is my trap," he said, looking at his watch as he rose.</p> + +<p>Waters brought the young man his coat, and then went out to light him +down-stairs.</p> + +<p>"Good-night, Brand. Glad to see you are getting into a wholesomer frame +of mind. I shall tell Natalie you are now prepared to admit that there +is in the world at least one woman who is not a cheat."</p> + +<p>"I hope you will not utter a word to Miss Lind of any of the <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: "nonesense" in the original text"> +nonsense</ins> we have been talking," said Brand, hastily, +and with his face grown red.</p> + +<p>"All right. By-the-way, when are you coming up to see the girls?"</p> + +<p>"To-morrow afternoon: will that do?"</p> + +<p>"Very well; I shall wait in."</p> + +<p>"Let me see if I remember the order aright," said Brand, holding up his +fingers and counting. "Rosalys, Blanche, Ermentrude, Agnes, Jane, +Frances, Geraldine: correct?"</p> + +<p><!-- Page 71 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p><p>"Quite. I think their mother must forget at times. Well, good-night."</p> + +<p>"Good-night—good-night!"</p> + +<p>Brand returned to the empty room, and threw wide open one of the +windows. The air was singularly mild for a night in March; but he had +been careful of his friend. Then he dropped into an easy-chair, and +opened a letter.</p> + +<p>It was the letter from Natalie Lind, which he had held in his hand ever +since, eagerly hoping that Evelyn would forget it—as, in fact, he had +done. And now with what a strange interest he read and re-read it; and +weighed all its phrases; and tried to picture her as she wrote these +lines; and studied even the peculiarities of the handwriting. There was +a quaint, foreign look here and there—the capital B, for example, was +written in German fashion; and that letter occurred a good many times. +It was Mr. Brand, and Mr. Brand, over and over again—in this friendly +and frank gossip, which had all the brightness of a chat over a new +acquaintance who interests one. He turned to the signature. "<i>Your +friend, Natalie.</i>"</p> + +<p>Then he walked up and down, slowly and thoughtfully; but ever and again +he would turn to the letter to see that he had quite accurately +remembered what she had said about the delight of the sail from Calais, +and the beautiful flowers at Dover and her gladness at the prospect of +their having this new associate and friend. Then the handwriting again. +The second stroke of the N in her name had a little notch at the +top—German fashion. It looked a pretty name, as she wrote it.</p> + +<p>Then he went to the window, and leaned on the brass bar, and looked out +on the dark and sleeping world, with its countless golden points of +fire. He remained there a long time, thinking—of the past, in which he +had fancied his life was buried; of the present, with its bewildering +uncertainties; of the future, with its fascinating dreams. There might +be a future for him, then, after all; and hope; and the joy of +companionship? Surely that letter meant at least so much.</p> + +<p>But then the boundlessness, the eager impatience, of human wishes! +Farther and farther, as he leaned and looked out, without seeing much of +the wonderful spectacle before him, went his thoughts and eager hopes +and desires. Companionship; but with whom? And might not the spring-time +of life come back again, as it was now coming back to the world in the +sweet new air that had begun to blow from the South? And what message +did the soft night-wind bring him but the name of Natalie? And Natalie +was written in the clear and <!-- Page 72 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span>shining heavens, in letters of fire and +joy; and the river spoke of Natalie; and the darkness murmured Natalie.</p> + +<p>But his heart, whispering to him—there, in the silence of the night, in +the time when dreams abound, and visions of what may be—his heart, +whispering to him, said—"Natalushka!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2> + +<h3>A COMMISSION.</h3> + + +<p>When Ferdinand Lind looked out the next day from the window of his +hotel, it was not at all the Venice of chromolithography that lay before +him. The morning was wild, gray, and gloomy, with a blustering wind +blowing down from the north; the broad expanse of green water ruffled +and lashed by continual squalls; the sea-gulls wheeling and dipping over +the driven waves; the dingy masses of shipping huddled along the wet and +deserted quays; the long spur of the Lido a thin black line between the +green sea and purple sky; and the domed churches over there, and the +rows of tall and narrow and grumbling palaces overlooking the canals +nearer at hand, all alike dismal and bedraggled and dark.</p> + +<p>When he went outside he shivered; but at all events these cold, damp +odors of the sea and the rainy wind were more grateful than the +mustiness of the hotel. But the deserted look of the place! The +gondolas, with their hearse-like coverings on, lay empty and untended by +the steps, as if waiting for a funeral procession. The men had taken +shelter below the archways, where they formed groups, silent, +uncomfortable, sulky. The few passers-by on the wet quays hurried along +with their voluminous black cloaks wrapped round their shoulders, and +hiding most of the mahogany-colored faces. Even the plague of beggars +had been dispersed; they had slunk away shivering into the foul-smelling +nooks and crannies. There was not a soul to give a handful of maize to +the pigeons in the Place of St. Mark.</p> + +<p>But when Lind had got round into the Place, what was his surprise to +find Calabressa having his breakfast in the open air at a small table in +front of a <i>cafe</i>. He was quite alone there; but he seemed much content. +In fact, he was laughing heartily, all to himself, at something he had +been reading in the newspaper open before him.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Lind, when they had exchanged salutations, <!-- Page 73 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span>"this is a +pleasant sort of a morning for one to have one's breakfast outside!"</p> + +<p>"My faith," said Calabressa, "if you had taken as many breakfasts as I +have shut up in a hole, you would be glad to get the chance of a +mouthful of fresh air. Sit down, my friend."</p> + +<p>Lind glanced round, and then sat down.</p> + +<p>"My good friend Calabressa," he said presently, "for one connected as +you are with certain persons, do you not think now that your costume is +a little conspicuous? And then your sitting out here in broad +daylight—"</p> + +<p>"My friend Lind," said he, with a laugh, "I am as safe here as if I were +in Naples, which I believe to be the safest place in the world for one +not in good odor with the authorities. And if there was a risk, would I +not run it to hear my little nightingale over there when she opens the +casements? Ah! she is the most charming Rosina in the world."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes," said Lind. "I am not speaking of you. But—the others. The +police must guess you are not here for nothing."</p> + +<p>"Oh, the others? Rest assured. The police might as well try to put their +fingers on a globule of quicksilver. It is but three days since they +left the Piazza del Popolo, Torre del Greco. To-morrow, if their +business is finished to-night, they will vanish again; and I shall be +dismissed."</p> + +<p>"If their business is finished?" repeated Lind, absently. "Yes; but I +should like to know why they have summoned me all the way from England. +They cannot mean—"</p> + +<p>"My dear friend Lind," said Calabressa, "you must not look so grave. +Nothing that is going to happen is worth one's troubling one's self +about. It is the present moment that is of consequence; and at the +present moment I have a joke for you. You know Armfeldt, who is now at +Berne: they had tried him only four times in Berlin; and there was only +a little matter of nine years' sentence against him. Listen."</p> + +<p>He took up the <i>Osservatore</i>, and read out a paragraph, stating that Dr. +Julius Armfeldt had again been tried <i>in contumaciam</i>, and sentenced to +a further term of two years' imprisonment, for seditious writing. +Further, the publisher of his latest pamphlet, a citizen of Berne, had +likewise been sentenced in his absence to twelve months' imprisonment.</p> + +<p>"Do they think Armfeldt will live to be a centenarian, that they keep +heaping up those sentences against him? Or is it as another inducement +for him to go back to his native coun<!-- Page 74 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span>try and give himself up? It is a +great joke, this childish proceeding; but a Government should not +declare itself impotent. It is like the Austrians when they hanged you +and the others in effigy. Now I remember, the little Natalushka was +grieved that she was not born then; for she wished to see the spectacle, +and to have killed the people who insulted her father."</p> + +<p>"I am afraid it is no joke at all," Lind said, gloomily. "Those Swiss +people are craven. What can you expect from a nation of hotel-waiters? +They cringe before every bully in Europe; you will find that, if +Bismarck insists, the Federal Council will expel Armfeldt from +Switzerland directly. No; the only safe refuge nowadays for the +reformers, the Protestants the pioneers of Europe, is England; and the +English do not know it; they do not think of it. They are so accustomed +to freedom that they believe that is the only possible condition, and +that other nations must necessarily enjoy it. When you talk to them of +tyranny, of political persecution, they laugh. They cannot understand +such a thing existing. They fancy it ceased when Bomba's dungeons were +opened."</p> + +<p>"For my part," said Calabressa, lighting a cigarette, and calling for a +small glass of cognac, "I am content with Naples."</p> + +<p>"And the protection of pickpockets?"</p> + +<p>"My friend," said the other, coolly, "if you refer to the most honorable +the association of the Camorristi, I would advise you not to speak too +loud."</p> + +<p>Calabressa rose, having settled his score with the waiter.</p> + +<p>"Allons!" said he. "What are you going to do to day?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said Lind, discontentedly. "May the devil fly away with +this town of Venice! I never come here but it is either freezing or +suffocating."</p> + +<p>"You are in an evil humor to-day, friend Lind; you have caught the +English spleen. Come, I have a little business to do over at Murano; the +breeze will do you good. And I will tell you the story of my escape."</p> + +<p>The time had to be passed somehow. Lind walked with his companion along +to the steps, descended, and jumped into a gondola, and presently they +were shooting out into the turbulent green water that the wind drove +against the side of the boat in a succession of sharp shocks. Seated in +the little funereal compartment, they could talk without much fear of +being heard by either of the men; and Calabressa began his tale. It was +not romantic. It was simply a case of bribery; the money to effect which +had certainly not come out of <!-- Page 75 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span>Calabressa's shallow pockets. In the +midst of the story—or, at least, before the end of it—Lind said, in a +low voice,</p> + +<p>"Calabressa, have you any sure grounds for what you said about +Zaccatelli?"</p> + +<p>His companion glanced quickly outside.</p> + +<p>"It is you are now indiscreet," he said, in an equally low voice. "But +yes; I think that is the business. However," he added, in a gayer tone, +"what matter? To-day is not to-morrow; to-morrow will shift for itself." +And therewith he continued his story, though his listener seemed +singularly preoccupied and thoughtful.</p> + +<p>They arrived at the island, got out, and walked into the court-yard of +one of the smaller glass-works. There were one or two of the workmen +passing; and here something occurred that seemed to arrest Lind's +attention.</p> + +<p>"What, here also?" said he, in a low voice.</p> + +<p>"Every one; the master included. It is with him I have to do this little +piece of business. Now you will be so good as to wait for a short time, +will you not?—and it is warm in there; I will be with you soon."</p> + +<p>Lind walked into the large workshop, where there were a number of people +at work, all round the large, circular, covered caldron, the various +apertures into which sent out fierce rays of light and heat. He walked +about, seemingly at his ease; looking at the apprentices experimenting; +chatting to the workmen. And at last he asked one of these to make for +him a little vase in opalescent glass, that he could take to his +daughter in England; and could he put the letter N on it somewhere? It +was at least some occupation, watching the quick and dexterous handling +under which the little vase grew into form, and had its decoration +cleverly pinched out, and its tiny bits of color added. The letter N was +not very successful; but then Natalie would know that her father had +been thinking of her at Venice.</p> + +<p>This excursion at all events tided over the forenoon; and when the two +companions returned to the wet and disconsolate city, Calabressa was +easily persuaded to join his friend in some sort of mid-day meal. After +that, the long-haired albino-looking person took his leave, having +arranged how Lind was to keep the assignation for that evening.</p> + +<p>The afternoon cleared up somewhat; but Ferdinand Lind seemed to find it +dull enough. He went out for an aimless stroll through some of the +narrow back streets, slowly making his way among the crowd that poured +along these various ways. Then he returned to his hotel, and wrote some +<!-- Page 76 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span>letters. Then he dined early; but still the time did not seem to pass. +He resolved on getting through an hour or so at the theatre.</p> + +<p>A gondola swiftly took him away through the labyrinth of small and +gloomy canals, until at length the wan orange glare shining out into the +night showed him that he was drawing near one of the entrances to the +Fenice. If he had been less preoccupied—less eager to think of nothing +but how to get the slow hours over—he might have noticed the +strangeness of the scene before him: the successive gondolas stealing +silently up through the gloom to the palely lit stone steps; the black +coffins appearing to open; and then figures in white and scarlet +opera-cloaks getting out into the dim light, to ascend into the +brilliant glare of the theatre staircase. He, too, followed, and got +into the place assigned to him. But this spectacular display failed to +interest him. He turned to the bill, to remind him what he had to see. +The blaze of color on the stage—the various combinations of +movement—the resounding music—all seemed part of a dream; and it +annoyed him somehow. He rose and left.</p> + +<p>The intervening time he spent chiefly in a <i>cafe</i> close by the theatre, +where he smoked cigarettes and appeared to read the newspapers. Then he +wandered away to the spot appointed for him to meet a particular +gondola, and arrived there half an hour too soon. But the gondola was +there also. He jumped in and was carried away through the silence of the +night.</p> + +<p>When he arrived at the door, which was opened to him by Calabressa, he +contrived to throw off, by a strong effort of will, any appearance of +anxiety. He entered and sat down, saying only,</p> + +<p>"Well!—what news?"</p> + +<p>Calabressa laughed slightly; and went to a cupboard, and brought forth a +bottle and two small glasses.</p> + +<p>"If you were Zaccatelli," he said, "I would say to you, 'My Lord,' or +'Your Excellency,' or whatever they call those flamingoes with the +bullet heads, 'I would advise you to take a little drop of this very +excellent cognac, for you are about to hear something, and you will need +steady nerves.' Meanwhile, Brother Lind, it is not forbidden to you and +me to have a glass. The Council provide excellent liquor."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, I have no need of it," said Lind, coldly. "What do you mean +about Zaccatelli?"</p> + +<p>"This," said the other, filling himself out a glass of the brandy, and +then proceeding to prepare a cigarette. "If <!-- Page 77 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span>the moral scene of the +country, too long outraged, should determine to punish the Starving +Cardinal, I believe he will get a good year's notice to prepare for his +doom. You perceive? What harm does sudden death to a man? It is nothing. +A moment of pain; and you have all the happiness of sleep, indifference, +forgetfulness. That is no punishment at all: do you perceive?"</p> + +<p>Calabressa continued, airily—</p> + +<p>"People are proud when they say they do not fear death. The fools! What +has any one to fear in death? To the poor it means no more hunger, no +more imprisonment, no more cold and sickness, no more watching of your +children when they are suffering and you cannot help; to the rich it +means no more triumph of rivals, and envy, and jealousy; no more +sleepless nights and ennui of days; no more gout, and gravel, and the +despair of growing old. Death! It is the great emancipation. And people +talk of the punishment of death!"</p> + +<p>He gave a long whistle of contempt.</p> + +<p>"But," said he, with a smile, "it is a little bit different if you have +to look forward to your death on a certain fixed day. Then you begin to +overvalue things—a single hour of life becomes something."</p> + +<p>He added, in a tone of affected condolence—</p> + +<p>"Then one wouldn't wish to cause any poor creature to say his last +adieux without some preparation. And in the case of a cardinal, is a +year too little for repentance? Oh, he will put it to excellent use."</p> + +<p>"Very well, very well," said Ferdinand Lind, with an impatient frown +gathering over the shaggy eyebrows. "But I want to know what I have to +do with all this?"</p> + +<p>"Brother Lind," said the other, mildly, "if the Secretary Granaglia, +knowing that I am a friend of yours, is so kind as to give me some hints +of what is under discussion, I listen, but I ask no questions. And +you—I presume you are here not to protest, but to obey."</p> + +<p>"Understand me, Calabressa: it was only to you as a friend that I +spoke," said Lind, gravely. And then he added, "The Council will not +find, at all events, that I am recusant."</p> + +<p>A few minutes afterward the bell rung, and Calabressa jumped to his +feet; while Lind, in spite of himself, started. Presently the <i>portiere</i> +was drawn aside, and the little sallow-complexioned man whom he had seen +on the previous evening entered the room. On this occasion, however, +Calabressa <!-- Page 78 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span>was motioned to withdraw, and immediately did so. Lind and +the stranger were left together.</p> + +<p>"I need scarcely inform you, Brother Lind," said he, in a slow and +matter-of-fact way, "that I am the authorized spokesman of the Council."</p> + +<p>As he said this, for a moment he rested his hand on the table. There was +on the forefinger a large ring, with a red stone in it, engraved. Lind +bowed acquiescence.</p> + +<p>"Calabressa has no doubt informed you of the matter before the Council. +That is now decided; the decree has been signed. Zaccatelli dies within +a year from this day. The motives which have led to this decision may +hereafter be explained to you, even if they have not already occurred to +you; they are motives of policy, as regards ourselves and the progress +of our work, as well as of justice."</p> + +<p>Ferdinand Lind listened, without response.</p> + +<p>"It has further been decided that the blow be struck from England."</p> + +<p>"England!" was the involuntary exclamation.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the other, calmly. "To give full effect to such a warning it +must be clear to the world that it has nothing to do with any private +revenge or low intrigue. Assassination has been too frequent in Italy of +late. The doubting throughout the world must be convinced that we have +agents everywhere; and that we are no mere local society for the +revenging of private wrongs."</p> + +<p>Lind again bowed assent.</p> + +<p>"Further," said the other, regarding him, "the Council charge you with +the execution of the decree."</p> + +<p>Lind had almost expected this: he did not flinch.</p> + +<p>"After twelve months' grace granted, you will be prepared with a sure +and competent agent who will give effect to the decree of the Council; +failing such a one, the duty will devolve on your own shoulders."</p> + +<p>"On mine!" he was forced to exclaim. "Surely—"</p> + +<p>"Do you forget," said the other, calmly, "that sixteen years ago your +life was forfeited, and given back to you by the Council?"</p> + +<p>"So I understood," said Lind. "But it was not my life that was given me +then!—only the lease of it till the Council should claim it again. +However!"</p> + +<p>He drew himself up, and the powerful face was full of decision.</p> + +<p>"It is well," said he. "I do not complain. If I exact <!-- Page 79 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span>obedience from +others, I, too, obey. The Council shall be served."</p> + +<p>"Further instructions shall be given you. Meanwhile, the Council once +more thank you for your attendance. Farewell, brother!"</p> + +<p>"Farewell, brother!"</p> + +<p>When he had gone, and the bell again rung, Calabressa reappeared. Lind +was too proud a man to betray any concern.</p> + +<p>"It is as you told me, Calabressa," said he, carelessly, as his friend +proceeded to light him down the narrow staircase. "And I am charged with +the execution of their vengeance. Well; I wish I had been present at +their deliberations, that is all. This deed may answer so far as the +continental countries are concerned; but, so far as England is +concerned, it will undo the work of years."</p> + +<p>"What!—England!" exclaimed Calabressa, lightly—"where they blow up a +man's house with gunpowder, or dash vitriol in his face, if he works for +a shilling a day less wages?—where they shoot landlords from behind +hedges if the rent is raised?—where they murder policemen in the open +street, to release political prisoners? No, no, friend Lind; I cannot +believe that."</p> + +<p>"However, that is not my business, Calabressa. The Council shall be +obeyed. I am glad to know you are again at liberty; when you come to +England you will see how your little friend Natalie has grown."</p> + +<p>"Give a kiss from me to the little Natalushka," said he, cheerfully; and +then the two parted.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h2> + +<h3>JACTA EST ALEA.</h3> + + +<p>"Natalie," said her father, entering the breakfast-room, "I have news +for you to-day. This evening Mr. Brand is to be initiated."</p> + +<p>The beautiful, calm face betrayed no surprise.</p> + +<p>"That is always the way," she answered, almost absently. "One after the +other they go in; and I only am left out, alone."</p> + +<p>"What," he said, patting her shoulder as he passed, "are you still +dreaming of reviving the <i>Giardiniere</i>? Well, it <!-- Page 80 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span>was a pretty idea to +call each sister in the lodge by the name of a flower. But nowadays, and +in England especially, if women intermeddled in such things, do you know +what they would be called? <i>Petroleuses!</i>"</p> + +<p>"Names do not hurt," said the girl, proudly.</p> + +<p>"No, no. Rest content, Natalie. You are initiated far enough. You know +all that needs to be known; and you can work with us, and associate with +us like the rest. But about Brand; are you not pleased?"</p> + +<p>"I am indeed pleased, papa."</p> + +<p>"And I am more than pleased," said Lind, thoughtfully. "He will be the +most important accession we have had for many a day. Ah, you women have +sharp eyes; but there are some things you cannot see—there are some men +whose character you cannot read."</p> + +<p>Natalie glanced up quickly; and her father noticed that surprised look.</p> + +<p>"Well," said he, with a smile, "what now is your opinion of Mr. Brand?"</p> + +<p>Instantly the soft eyes were cast down again, and a faint tinge of color +appeared in her face.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my opinion, papa?" said she, as if to gain time to choose her +words. "Well, I should call him manly, straightforward—and—and very +kind—and—and very English—"</p> + +<p>"I understand you perfectly, Natalie," her father said, with a laugh. +"You and Lord Evelyn are quite in accord. Yes, and you are both +thoroughly mistaken. You mean, by his being so English, that he is cold, +critical, unsympathetic: is it not so? You resent his being cautious +about joining us. You think he will be but a lukewarm +associate—suspecting everything—fearful about going too far—a +half-and-half ally. My dear Natalie, that is because neither Lord Evelyn +nor you know anything at all about that man."</p> + +<p>The faint color in the girl's cheeks had deepened; and she remained +silent, with her face downcast.</p> + +<p>"The pliable ones," her father continued, "the people who are moved by +fine talking, who are full of amiable sentiments, and who take to work +like ours as an additional sentiment—you may initiate a thousand of +them, and not gain an atom of strength. It is a hard head that I want, +and a strong will; a man determined to have no illusions at the outset; +a man who, once pledged, will not despair or give up in the face of +failure, difficulty, or disappointment, or anything else. Brand is such +a man. If I were to be disabled <!-- Page 81 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span>to-morrow, I would rather leave my work +in his hands than in the hands of any man I have seen in this country."</p> + +<p>Was it to hide the deepening color in her face that the girl went round +to her father, and stood rather behind him, and put her hand on his +shoulder, and stooped down to his ear.</p> + +<p>"Papa," said she, "I—I hope you don't think I have been saying anything +against Mr. Brand. Oh no. How could I do that—when he has been so kind +to us—and—and just now especially, when he is about to become one of +us? You must forget what I said about his being English, papa; after +all, it is not for us to say that being English is anything else than +being kind, and generous, and hospitable. And I am exceedingly pleased +that you have got another associate, and that we have got another good +friend, in England."</p> + +<p>"Alors, as Calabressa would say, you can show that you are pleased, +Natalie," her father said, lightly, "by going and writing a pretty +little note, asking your new friend, Mr. Brand, to dine with us +to-night, after the initiation is over, and I will ask Evelyn, if I see +him."</p> + +<p>But this proposal in no wise seemed to lessen the girl's embarrassment. +She still clung about the back of her father's chair.</p> + +<p>"I would rather not do that, papa," said she, after a second.</p> + +<p>"Why? why?" said he.</p> + +<p>"Would it not look less formal for you to ask him, papa? You see, it is +once or twice that we have asked him to dine with us without giving him +proper notice—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, that is nothing—nothing at all. A bachelor with an evening +disengaged is glad enough to fill it up anyhow. Well, if you would +rather not write, Natalie, I will ask him myself."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, papa," said she, apparently much relieved, and therewith she +went back to her seat, and her father turned to his newspaper.</p> + +<p>The day passed, and the evening came. As six o'clock was striking, +George Brand presented himself at the little door in Lisle street, Soho, +and was admitted. Lind had already assured him that, as far as England +was concerned, no idle mummeries were associated with the ceremony of +initiation; to which Brand had calmly replied, that if mummeries were +considered necessary, he was as ready as any one to do his part of the +business. Only he added that he thought the unknown powers had acted +wisely—so far as England was concerned—in discarding such things.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 82 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span></p><p>When he entered the room, his first glance round was reassuring. There +were six persons present besides Lind, and they did not at all suggest +the typical Leicester Square foreigner. On the contrary, he guessed that +four out of the six were either English or Irish; and two of them he +recognized, though they were unknown to him personally. The one was a +Home Rule M.P., ferocious enough in the House of Commons, but celebrated +as the most brilliant, and amiable, and fascinating of diners-out; the +other was an Oxford don, of large fortune and wildly Radical views, who +wrote a good deal in the papers. There was a murmur of conversation +going on, which ceased as Lind briefly introduced the new-comer.</p> + +<p>The ceremony, if ceremony it could be called, was simple enough. The +candidate for admission was required to sign a printed document, +solemnly pledging himself to devote his life, and the labor of his hands +and brain, to the work of the association; to implicitly obey any +command reaching him from the Council, or communicated through an +officer of the first degree; and to preserve inviolable secrecy. Brand +read this paper through twice, and signed it. It was then signed by the +seven witnesses. He was further required to inscribe his signature in a +large volume, which contained a list of members of a particular section. +That done, the six strangers present shook him by the hand, and left.</p> + +<p>He looked round <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: "," in the original replaced by ".""> +surprised.</ins> Had he been +dreaming during these brief five minutes? Yet he could hear the noise of +their going down-stairs.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Mr. Lind, with a smile, "it is not a very terrible +ceremony, is it? Did you expect prostrations at the altar; and blindfold +gropings, and the blessing of the dagger? When you come to know a little +more of our organization, of its extent and its power, you will +understand how we can afford to dispense with all those theatrical ways +of frightening people into obedience and secrecy."</p> + +<p>"I expected to find Evelyn here," said George Brand. He was in truth, +just a little bit bewildered as yet. He had been assured that there +would be no foolish mummeries or fantastic rites of initiation; but all +the same he had been much occupied with this step he was about to take; +he had been thinking of it much; he had been looking forward to +something unknown; and he had been nerving himself to encounter whatever +might come before him. But that five minutes of silence; the quick +reading and signing of a paper; the sudden dispersion of the small +assemblage: he could scarcely believe it was all real.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 83 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p><p>"No," Lind said, "Lord Evelyn is not yet an officer. He is only a +Companion in the third degree, like yourself."</p> + +<p>"A what?"</p> + +<p>"A Companion in the third degree. Surely you read the document that you +signed?"</p> + +<p>It was still lying on the table before him. He took it up; yes, he +certainly was so designated there. Yet he could not remember seeing the +phrase, though he had, before signing, read every word twice over.</p> + +<p>"And now, Mr. Brand," his companion said, seating himself at the other +side of the table, "when you have got over your surprise that there +should be no ceremony, it will become my duty to give you some +idea—some rough idea—of the mechanism and aims of our association, and +to show you in what measure we are allied with other societies. The +details you will become acquainted with by-and-by; that will be a labor +of time. And you know, of course, or you have guessed, that there are no +mysteries to be revealed to you, no profound religious truths to be +communicated, no dogmas to be accepted. I am afraid we are very +degenerate descendants of the Mystics, and the Illuminati, and all the +rest of them; we have become prosaic; our wants are sadly material. And +yet we have our dreams and aspirations, too; and the virtues that we +exact—obedience, temperance, faith, self-sacrifice—are not ignoble. +Meanwhile, to begin. I think you may prepare yourself to be astonished."</p> + +<p>But astonishment was no word for the emotion experienced by the newly +admitted member when Ferdinand Lind proceeded to give him, with careful +facts and sober computations, some rough outline of the extent and power +of this intricate and far-reaching organization. Hitherto the word +"International" had with him been associated with the ridiculous fiasco +at Geneva; but here was something, not calling itself international, +which aimed at nothing less than knitting together the multitudes of the +nations, not only in Europe, but in the English and French and German +speaking territories beyond the seas, in a solemn league—a league for +self-protection and mutual understanding, for the preservation of +international peace, the spread of knowledge, the outbraving of tyranny, +the defiance of religious intolerance, the relief of the oppressed, the +help of the poor, and the sick, and the weak. This was no cutthroat +conspiracy or wild scheme of confiscation and plunder; but a design for +the establishment of wide and beneficent law—a law which should +protect, not the ambition of kings, not the pride of armies, not the +revenues of <!-- Page 84 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span>priests, but the rights and the liberties of those who were +"darkening in labor and pain." And this message, that could go forth +alike to the Camorristi and the Nihilists; to the Free Masons and the +Good Templars; to the Trades-unionists and the Knights of Labor—to all +those masses of men moved by the spirit of co-operation—"See, brothers, +what we have to show you. Some of you are aiming at chaos and perdition; +others putting wages as their god and sovereign; others content with a +vague philanthropy almost barren of results. This is all the help we +want of you—to pledge yourselves to associate with us, to accept our +modest programme of actual needs, to give help to those who are in want +or trouble, to promise that you will stand by us in the time to come. +And when the time does come; when we are combined; when knowledge is +abroad, and mutual trust, who will say 'yes' if the voice of the people +in every nation murmurs 'No?' What priest will reimpose the Inquisition +on us; what king drive us to shed blood that his robes may have the +richer dye; what policeman in high places endeavor to stamp out our +God-given right of free speech? It is so little for you to grant; it is +so much for you, and for us, to gain!"</p> + +<p>These were not the words he uttered—for Lind spoke English slowly and +carefully—but they were the spirit of his words. And as he went on +describing to this new member what had already been done, what was being +done, and the great possibilities of the future, Brand began to wonder +whether all this gigantic scheme, with its simple, bold, and practical +outlines, were the work of this one man. He ventured by-and-by to hint +at some such question.</p> + +<p>"Mine?" Lind said, frankly, "Ah no! not the inspiration of it. I am only +the mechanic putting brick and brick together; the design is not mine, +nor that of any one man. It is an aggregate project—a speculation +occupying many a long hour of imprisonment—a scheme to be handed from +one to the other, with alterations and suggestions."</p> + +<p>"But even your share of it—how can one man control so much?" Brand +said; for he easily perceived what a mass of detail had to pass through +this man's hands.</p> + +<p>"I will tell you," said the other. "Because every stone added to the +building is placed there for good. There is no looking back. There are +no pacifications of revolt. No questions; but absolute obedience. You +see, we exact so little: why should any one rebel? However, you will +learn more and more as you go on; and soon your work will be appointed +you. Meanwhile, I thank you, brother."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 85 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p><p>Lind rose and shook his hand.</p> + +<p>"Now," said he, "that is enough of business. It occurred to me this +morning that, if you had nothing else to do this evening, you might come +and dine with us, and give Natalie the chance of meeting you in your new +character."</p> + +<p>"I shall be most pleased," said Brand; and his face flushed.</p> + +<p>"I telegraphed to Evelyn. If he is in town, perhaps he will join us. +Shall we walk home?"</p> + +<p>"If you like."</p> + +<p>So they went out together into the glare and clamor of the streets. +George Brand's heart was very full with various emotions; but, not to +lose altogether his English character, he preserved a somewhat critical +tone as he talked.</p> + +<p>"Well, Mr. Lind," he said, "so far as I can see and hear, your scheme +has been framed not only with great ability, but also with a studied +moderation and wisdom. The only point I would urge is this—that, in +England, as little as possible should be said about kings and priests. A +great deal of what you said would scarcely be understood here. You see, +in England it is not the Crown nowadays which instigate or insists on +war; it is Parliament and the people. Dynastic ambitions do not trouble +us. There is no reason whatever why we here should hate kings when they +are harmless."</p> + +<p>"You are right; the case is different," Lind admitted. "But that makes +adhesion to our programme all the easier."</p> + +<p>"I was only speaking of the police of mentioning things which might +alarm timid people. Then as for the priests; it may be the interest of +the priests in Ireland to keep the peasantry ignorant; but it is +certainly not so in England. The Church of England fosters education—"</p> + +<p>"Are not your clergymen the bitterest enemies of the School Board +schools?"</p> + +<p>"Well, they may dislike seeing education dissociated from religion—that +is natural, considering what they believe; but they are not necessary +enemies of education. Perhaps I am a very young member to think of +making such a suggestion. But the truth is, that when an ordinary +Englishman hears anything said against kings and priests, he merely +thinks of kings and priests as he knows them—and as being mostly +harmless creatures nowadays—and concludes that you are a Communist +wanting to overturn society altogether."</p> + +<p>"Precisely so. I told Natalie this morning that if she were to be +allowed to join our association her English friends would imagine her to +be <i>petroleuse</i>."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 86 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span></p><p>"Miss Lind is not in the association?" Brand said, quickly.</p> + +<p>"As yet no women have been admitted. It is a difficulty; for in some +societies with which we are partly in alliance women are members. Ah, +such noble creatures many of them are, too! However, the question may +come forward by-and-by. In the mean time, Natalie, without being made +aware of what we are actually doing—that, of course, is +forbidden—knows something of what our work must be, and is warm in her +sympathy. She is a good help, too: she is the quickest translator we +have got."</p> + +<p>"Do you think," Brand said, somewhat timidly, but with a frown on his +face, "that it is fair to put such tedious labor on the shoulders of a +young girl? Surely there are enough of men to do the work?"</p> + +<p>"You shall propose that to her yourself," Lind said laughing.</p> + +<p>Well, they arrived at the house in Curzon Street, and, when they went +up-stairs to the drawing-room, they found Lord Evelyn there. Natalie +Lind came forward—with less than usual of her graciously self-possessed +manner—and shook hands with him briefly, and said, with averted look,</p> + +<p>"I am glad to see you, Mr. Brand."</p> + +<p>Now, as her eyes were cast down, it was impossible that she could have +noticed the quick expression of disappointment that crossed his face. +Was it that she herself was instantly conscious of the coldness of her +greeting, and anxious to atone for that? Was it that she plucked up +heart of grace? At all events, she suddenly offered him both her hands +with a frank courage; she looked him in the face with the soft, tender, +serious eyes; and then, before she turned away, the low voice said,</p> + +<p>"Brother, I welcome you!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII.</h2> + +<h3>SOUTHWARD.</h3> + + +<p>After a late, cold, and gloomy spring, a glimpse of early summer shone +over the land; and after a long period of anxious and oftentimes +irritating and disappointing travail—in wet and dismal towns, in +comfortless inns, with associates not always to his liking—George Brand +was hurrying to the <!-- Page 87 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span>South. Ah, the thought of it, as the train whirled +along on this sunlit morning! After the darkness, the light; after +fighting, peace; after the task-work, a smile of reward! No more than +that was his hope; but it was a hope that kept his heart afire and glad +on many a lonely night.</p> + +<p>At length his companion, who had slept steadily on ever since they had +entered the train at Carlisle, at about one in the morning, awoke, +rubbed his eyes, and glanced at the window.</p> + +<p>"We are going to have a fine day at last, Humphreys," said Brand.</p> + +<p>"They have been having better weather in the South, sir."</p> + +<p>The man looked like a well-dressed mechanic. He had an intelligent face, +keen and hard. He spoke with the Newcastle burr.</p> + +<p>"I wish you would not call me 'sir,'" Brand said, impatiently.</p> + +<p>"It comes natural, somehow, sir," said the other, with great simplicity. +"There is not a man in any part of the country, but would say 'sir' to +one of the Brands of Darlington. When Mr. Lind telegraphed to me you +were coming down, I telegraphed back, 'Is he one of the Brands of +Darlington?' and when I got his answer I said to myself, 'Here is the +man to go to the Political Committee of the Trades-union Congress: they +won't fight shy of him.'"</p> + +<p>"Well, we have no great cause to grumble at what has been done in that +direction; but that infernal <i>Internationale</i> is doing a deal of +mischief. There is not a trades-unionist in the country who does not +know what is going on in France. A handful of irresponsible madmen +trying to tack themselves on to the workmen's association—well, surely +the men will have more sense than to listen. The <i>congres ouvrier</i> to +change its name, and to become the <i>congres revolutionnaire</i>! When I +first went to Jackson, Molyneux, and the others, I found they had a sort +of suspicion that we wanted to make Communists of them and tear society +to pieces."</p> + +<p>"You have done more in a couple of months, sir, than we all have done in +the last ten years," his companion said.</p> + +<p>"That is impossible. Look at—"</p> + +<p>He named some names, certain of them well known enough.</p> + +<p>The other shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Where we have been they don't believe in London professors, and +speech-makers, and chaps like that. They know that the North is the +backbone and the brain of England, <!-- Page 88 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span>and in the North they want to be +spoken to by a North-countryman."</p> + +<p>"I am a Buckinghamshire man."</p> + +<p>"That may be where you live, sir: but you are one of the Brands of +Darlington," said the other, doggedly.</p> + +<p>By-and-by they entered the huge, resounding station.</p> + +<p>"What are you going to do to-night, Humphreys? Come and have some dinner +with me, and we will look in afterward at the Century."</p> + +<p>Humphreys looked embarrassed for a moment.</p> + +<p>"I was thinking of going to the Coger's Hall, sir," said he, hitting +upon an excuse. "I have heard some good speaking there."</p> + +<p>"Mostly bunkum, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir."</p> + +<p>"All right. Then I shall see you to-morrow morning in Lisle Street. +Good-bye."</p> + +<p>He jumped into a hansom, and was presently rattling away through the +busy streets. How sweet and fresh was the air, even here in the midst of +the misty and golden city! The early summer was abroad; there was a +flush of green on the trees in the squares. When he got down to the +Embankment, he was quite surprised by the beauty of the gardens; there +were not many gardens in the towns he had chiefly been living in.</p> + +<p>He dashed up the narrow wooden stairs.</p> + +<p>"Look alive now, Waters: get my bath ready."</p> + +<p>"It is ready, sir."</p> + +<p>"And breakfast!"</p> + +<p>"Whenever you please, sir."</p> + +<p>He took off his dust-smothered travelling-coat, and was about to fling +it on the couch, when he saw lying there two pieces of some brilliant +stuff that were strange to him.</p> + +<p>"What are these things?"</p> + +<p>"They were left, sir, by Mr. ——, of Bond Street, on approval. He will +call this afternoon."</p> + +<p>"Tell him to go to the devil!" said Brand, briefly, as he walked off +into his bedroom.</p> + +<p>Presently he came back.</p> + +<p>"Stay a bit," said he; and he took up the two long strips of +silk-embroidered stuff—Florentine work, probably, of about the end of +the sixteenth century. The ground was a delicate yellowish-gray, with an +initial letter worked in various colors over it. Mr. ——, of Bond +Street, knew that Brand had often amused his idle hours abroad in +picking up things like <!-- Page 89 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span>this, chiefly as presents to lady friends, and +no doubt thought they would be welcome enough, even for bachelors' +rooms.</p> + +<p>"Tell him I will take them."</p> + +<p>"But the price, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Ask him his price; beat him down; and keep the difference."</p> + +<p>After bath and breakfast there was an enormous pile of correspondence +awaiting him; for not a single letter referring to his own affairs had +been forwarded to him for over two months. He had thrown his entire time +and care into his work in the North. And now that these arrears had to +be cleared off, he attacked the business with an obvious impatience. +Formerly he had been used to dawdle over his letters, getting through a +good portion of the forenoon with them and conversations with Waters +about Buckinghamshire news. Now, even with that omniscient factotum by +his side, his progress was slow, simply because he was hurried. He made +dives here and there, without system, without settlement. At last, +looking at his watch, he jumped up; it was half-past eleven.</p> + +<p>"Some other time, Waters—some other time; the man must wait," he said +to the astonished but patient person beside him. "If Lord Evelyn calls, +tell him I shall look in at the Century to-night."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>Some half-hour thereafter he was standing in Park Lane, his heart +beating somewhat quickly, his eyes fixed eagerly on two figures that +were crossing the thoroughfare lower down to one of the gates leading +into Hyde Park. These were Natalie Lind and the little Anneli. He had +known that he would see her thus; he had imagined the scene a thousand +times; he had pictured to himself every detail—the trees, the tall +railings, the spring flowers in the plots, and the little rosy-cheeked +German girl walking by her mistress's side; and yet, now that this +familiar thing had come true, he trembled to behold it; he breathed +quickly; he could not go forward to her and hold out his hand. Slowly, +for they were walking slowly, he went along to the gate and entered +after them; cautiously, lest she should turn suddenly and confront him +with her eyes; drawn, and yet fearing to follow. She was talking with +some animation to her companion; though even in this profound silence he +could not hear the sound of her voice. But he could see the beautiful +oval of her face! and sometimes, when she turned with a laugh to the +little Anneli, he caught a glimpse of the black eyes and eyelashes, the +smiling <!-- Page 90 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span>lips and brilliant teeth; and once or twice she put out the +palm of her right hand with a little gesture which, despite her English +dress, would have told a stranger that she was of foreign ways. But the +look of welcome, the smile of reward that he had been looking forward +to?</p> + +<p>Well, Mr. Lind was in America; and during his absence his daughter saw +but few visitors. There was no particular reason why, supposing that +George Brand met Natalie in the street, he should not go up and shake +hands with her; and many a time, in these mental pictures of his of her +morning walk with the rosy-cheeked Anneli, he imagined himself +confronting her under the shadow of the trees, and perhaps walking some +way with her, to listen once more to the clear, low vibrations of her +musical voice. But no sooner had he seen her come into Park Lane—the +vision became real—than he felt he could not go up and speak to her. If +he had met her by accident, perhaps he might; but to watch her, to +entrap her, to break in on her wished-for isolation under false +pretences—all that he suddenly felt to be impossible. He could follow +her with his heart; but the sound of her voice, the touch of her hand, +the smile of her calm, beautiful, dark eyes, were as remote for him as +if she, too, were beyond the broad Atlantic.</p> + +<p>He was not much given to introspection and analysis; daring the past two +months more especially he had been far too busy to be perpetually asking +"Why? why?"—the vice of indolence. It was enough that, in the cold and +the wet, there was a fire in his heart that kept him glad with thinking +of the fair days to come; and that, in the foggy afternoons or the +lonely nights when he was alone, and perhaps despondent or impatient +over the stupidity or the contumacy he had had to encounter, there came +to him the soft murmur of a voice from far away—proud, sad, and yet +full of consolation and hope:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0" style="margin-left: -.5em">"—But ye that might be clothed with all things pleasant,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Ye are foolish that put off the fair soft present,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">That clothe yourself with the cold future air;<br /></span> +<span class="i5">When mother and father, and tender sister and brother,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the old live love that was shall be as ye,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Dust and no fruit of loving life shall be.<br /></span> +<span class="i3">—She shall be yet who is more than all these were,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Than sister or wife or father unto us, or mother."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>He could hear her voice: he could see the beautiful face grow pale with +its proud fervor; he could feel the soft touch <!-- Page 91 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span>of her hand when she +came forward and said, "Brother, I welcome you!"</p> + +<p>And now that she was there before him, the gladness in his heart at the +mere sight of her was troubled with a trembling fear and pain. She was +but a stone's-throw in front of him; but she seemed far away. The world +was young around her; and she belonged <ins class="correction" title="Printed: to the the time">to the time</ins> of youth and of +hope; life, that he had been ready to give up as a useless and aimless +thing, was only opening out before her, full of a thousand beauties, and +wonders, and possibilities. If only he could have taken her hand, and +looked into her eyes, and claimed that smile of welcome, he would have +been nearer to her. Surely, in one thing at least they were in sympathy. +There was a bond between them. If the past had divided them, the future +would bring them more together. Did not the Pilgrims go by in bands, +until death struck down its victims here and there?</p> + +<p>Natalie knew nothing of all this vague longing, and doubt, and pain in +the breast of one who was so near her. She was in a gay mood. The +morning was beautiful; the soft wind after the rain brought whiffs of +scent from the distant rose-red hawthorn. Though she was here under +shadow of the trees, the sun beyond shone on the fresh and moist grass; +and at the end of the glades there were glimpses of brilliant color in +the foliage—the glow of the laburnum, the lilac blaze of the +rhododendron bushes. And how still the place was! Far off there was a +dull roar of carriages in Piccadilly; but here there was nothing but the +bleating of the sheep, the chirp of the young birds, the stir of the +wind among the elms. Sometimes he could now catch the sound of her +voice.</p> + +<p>She was in a gay humor. When she got to the Serpentine—the north bank +was her favorite promenade; she could see on the other side, just below +the line of leaves, the people passing and repassing on horseback; but +she was not of them—she found a number of urchins wading. They had no +boat; but they had the bung of a barrel, which served, and that they +were pushing through the water with twigs and sticks; their shapeless +boots they had left on the bank. Now, as it seemed to Brand, who was +watching from a distance, she planned a scheme. Anneli was seen to go +ahead of the boys, and speak to them. Their attention being thus +distracted, the young mistress stepped rapidly down to the tattered +boots, and dropped something in each. Then she withdrew, and was +rejoined by her maid; they walked away without waiting to see the result +of their machinations. But <!-- Page 92 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span>George Brand, following by-and-by, heard one +of the urchins call out with wonder that he had found a penny in his +shoe; and this extraordinary piece of news brought back his comrades, +who rather mechanically began to examine their footgear too. And then +the amazement!—and the looks around!—and the examination of the pence, +lest that treasure should vanish away! Brand went up to them.</p> + +<p>"Look hear you young stupids; don't you see that tall lady away along +there by the boat-house—why don't you go and thank her?"</p> + +<p>But they were either too shy or too incredulous; so he left them. He did +not forget the incident.</p> + +<p>Perhaps it was that the heavens had grown dark in the southwest, +threatening a shower; but, at all events, Natalie soon returned and set +out on her homeward way, giving this unknown spy some trouble to escape +observation. But when she had passed, he again followed, now with even +greater unrest and pain at his heart. For would not she soon disappear, +and the outer world grow empty, and the dull hours have to be faced? He +had come to London with such hope and gladness; now the very sunlight +was to be taken out of his life by the shutting of a door in Curzon +Street.</p> + +<p>Fate, however, was kinder to him than he had dared to hope. As Natalie +was returning home, he ventured to draw a little nearer to her, but +still with the greatest caution, for he would have been overcome with +shame if she had detected him dogging her footsteps in this aimless, if +innocent manner. And now that she had got close to her own door, he had +drawn nearer still—on the other side of the street; he so longed to +catch one more glimpse of the dark eyes smiling, and the mobile, proud +mouth. But just as the door was being opened from within, a man who had +evidently been watching his chance thrust himself before the two women, +barring their way, and proceeded to address Natalie in a vehement, +gesticulating fashion, with much clinching of his fists and throwing out +of his arms. Anneli had shrunk back a step, for the man was uncouth and +unkempt; but the young mistress stood erect and firm, confronting the +beggar, or madman, or whoever he was, without the slightest sign of +fear.</p> + +<p>This was enough for George Brand. He was not thrusting himself unfairly +on her seclusion if he interposed to protect her from menace. Instantly +he crossed the road.</p> + +<p>"Who are you? What do you want?" This was what he said; but what he did +was to drive the man back a couple of yards.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 93 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></p><p>A hand was laid on his arm quickly.</p> + +<p>"He is in trouble," Natalie said, calmly. "He wants to see papa; he has +come a long way; he does not understand that papa is in America. If you +could only convince him—But you do not talk Russian."</p> + +<p>"I can talk English," said Brand, regarding the maniac-looking person +before him with angry brows. "Will you go indoors, Miss Lind, and leave +him to me. I will talk an English to him that he will understand."</p> + +<p>"Is that the way you answer an appeal for help?" said she, with gentle +reproof. "The man is in trouble. If I persuade him to go with you, will +you take him to papa's chambers? Either Beratinsky or Heinrich Reitzei +will be there."</p> + +<p>"Reitzei is there."</p> + +<p>"He will hear what this man has to say. Will you be so kind?"</p> + +<p>"I will do anything to rid you of this fellow, who looks more like a +madman than a beggar."</p> + +<p>She stepped forward and spoke to the man again—her voice sounded gentle +and persuasive to Brand, in this tongue which he could not understand. +When she had finished, the uncouth person in the tattered garments +dropped on both knees on the pavement, and took her hand in his, and +kissed it in passionate gratitude. Then he rose, and stood with his cap +in his hand.</p> + +<p>"He will go with you. I am so sorry to trouble you, Mr. Brand; and I +have not even said, 'How do you do?'"</p> + +<p>To hear this beautiful voice after so long a silence—to find those +calm, dark, friendly eyes regarding him—bewildered him, or gave him +courage, he knew not which. He said to her, with a quick flush on his +forehead,</p> + +<p>"May I come back to tell you how I succeed?"</p> + +<p>She only hesitated for a second.</p> + +<p>"If you have time. If you care to take the trouble."</p> + +<p>He carried away with him the look of her face—that filled his heart +with sunlight. In the hansom, into which he bundled his unkempt +companion, if only he had known enough Russian, he would have expressed +gratitude to him. Beggar or maniac, or whatever he was, had he not been +the means of procuring for George Brand that long-coveted, +long-dreamed-of smile of welcome?</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><!-- Page 94 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV.</h2> + +<h3>A RUSSIAN EPISODE.</h3> + + +<p>"Is that the way you answer an appeal for help?" With that gentle +protest still lingering in his ear, he was not inclined to be hard on +this unfortunate wretch who was in the cab with him; and yet at the same +time he was resolved to prevent any repetition of the scene he had just +witnessed. At the last he discovered that the man had picked up in his +wanderings a little German. His own German was not first-rate; it was +fluent, forcible, and accurate enough, so far as hotels and +railway-stations were concerned; elsewhere it had a tendency to halt, +blunder, and double back on itself. But, at all events, he managed to +convey to his companion the distinct intimation that any further +troubling of that young lady would only procure for him broken head.</p> + +<p>The dull, stupid, savage-looking face betrayed no sign of intelligence. +He repeated the warning again and again; and at last, at the phrase +"that young lady," the dazed small eyes lit up somewhat, and the man +clasped his hands.</p> + +<p>"Ein Engel!" he said, apparently to himself. "Ein Engel—ein Engel! Ach +Gott—wie schon—wie gemuthlich!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, yes," Brand said, "that is all very well; but one is not +permitted to annoy angels—to trouble them in the street. Do you +understand that that means punishment—one must be punished—if one +returns to the house of that young lady? Do you understand?"</p> + +<p>The man regarded him with the small, deep-set eyes again sunk into +apathy.</p> + +<p>"Ihr Diener, Herr," said he, submissively.</p> + +<p>"You understand you are not to go back to the house of the young lady?"</p> + +<p>"Ihr Diener, Herr."</p> + +<p>There was nothing to be got out of him, or into him; so Brand waited +until he should get help of <ins class="correction" title="Printed: Heidrich">Heinrich</ins> Reitzei, Lind's <i>locum tenens</i>.</p> + +<p>Reitzei was in the chambers—at Lind's table, in fact. He was a man of +about twenty-eight or thirty, slim and dark, with a perfectly pallid +face, a small black mustache carefully waxed, and an affectedly +courteous smile. He wore a <i>pince-nez</i>; was fond of slang, to show his +familiarity with English; and aimed at an English manner, too. He seemed +bored. <!-- Page 95 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span>He regarded this man whom Brand introduced to him without +surprise, with indifference.</p> + +<p>"Hear what this fellow has to say," Brand said, "will you? and give him +distinctly to understand that if he tries again to see Miss Lind, I will +break his head for him. What idiot could have given him Lind's private +address?"</p> + +<p>The man was standing near the door, stolid apparently, but with his +small eyes keenly watching. Reitzei said a word or two to him. Instantly +he went—he almost sprung—forward; and this movement was so unexpected +that the equanimity of the pallid young man received a visible shock, +and he hastily drew out a drawer a few inches. Brand caught sight of the +handle of a revolver.</p> + +<p>But the man was only eager to tell his story, and presently Reitzei had +resumed his air of indifference. As he proceeded to translate for +Brand's benefit, in interjectional phrases, what this man with the +trembling hands and the burning eyes was saying, it was strange to mark +the contrast between the two men.</p> + +<p>"His name Kirski," the younger man was saying, as he eyed, with a cool +and critical air, the wild look in the other's face. "A carver in wood, +but cannot work now, for his hands tremble, through hunger and +fatigue—through drink, I should say—native of a small village in +Kiev—had his share of the Communal land—but got permission from the +Commune to spend part of the year in Kiev itself—sent back all his +taxes duly, and money too, because—oh, this is it?—daughter of village +Elder—young, beautiful, of course—left an orphan, with three +brothers—and their share of the land too much for them. Ah, this is the +story, then, my friend? Married, too—young, beautiful, good—yes, yes, +we know all that—"</p> + +<p>There were tears running down the face of the other man. But these he +shook away; and a wilder light than ever came into his eyes.</p> + +<p>"He goes to Kiev as usual, foolish fellow; now I see what all the row is +about. When he returns, three months after, he goes to his house. Empty. +The neighbors will not speak. At last one says something about Pavel +Michaieloff, the great proprietor, whose house and farm are some versts +away—my good fellow, you have got the palsy, or is it drink?—he goes +and seeks out the house of Pavel—yes, yes, the story is not new—Pavel +is at the open window, smoking—he goes up to the window—there is a +woman inside—when she sees him <!-- Page 96 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span>she utters a loud scream, and rushes +for protection to the man Michaieloff—then all the fat is in the fire +naturally—"</p> + +<p>The Russian choked and gasped; drops of perspiration stood on his +forehead; he looked wildly around.</p> + +<p>"Water?" said Reitzei. "Poor devil, you need some water to cool down +your excitement. You are making as much fuss as if that kind of thing +had never happened in the world before."</p> + +<p>But he rose and got him some water, which the man drained eagerly; then +he continued his story with the same fierce and angry vehemence.</p> + +<p>"Well, yes, he had something to complain of, certainly," Reitzei said, +translating all that incoherent passion into cool little phrases. "Not a +fair fight. Pavel summons his men from the court-yard—men with +whips—dogs, too—he is lashed and driven along the roads, and the dogs +tear at him! Oh yes, my good friend, you have been badly used; but you +have come a long way to tell your story. I must ask him how the mischief +he got here at all."</p> + +<p>But here Reitzei paused and stared. Something the man said—in an eager, +low voice, with his sunken small eyes all afire—startled him out of his +critical air.</p> + +<p>"Oh, that is it, is it?" he said, eyeing him. "He will do any thing for +us—he will commit a murder—ten murders—if only we give him money, a +knife, and help to kill the man Michaieloff. Well, he is a lively sort +of person to let loose on society."</p> + +<p>"The man is clearly mad," Brand said.</p> + +<p>"The man was madder who sent him to us," Reitzei answered. "I should not +like to be in his shoes if Lind hears that this maniac was allowed to +see his daughter."</p> + +<p>The wretched creature standing there glanced eagerly from one to the +other, with the eyes of a wild animal, seeking to gather something from +their looks; then he went forward to the table, and stooped down and +spoke to Reitzei still further, in the same low, fierce voice, his whole +frame meanwhile shaking with his excitement. Reitzei said something to +him in reply, and motioned him back. He retired a step or two, and then +kept watching the faces of the two men.</p> + +<p>"What are you going to do with him?" Brand said.</p> + +<p>Reitzei shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"I know what I should like to do with him if I dared," he said, with a +graceful smile. "There is a friend of mine not a hundred miles away from +that very Kiev who wants a little admonition. Her name is Petrovna, she +is the jail-<!-- Page 97 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> +matron of a female penitentiary; she is just a little <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: "to" in the original text"> +too</ins> fierce at times. Murderers, thieves, prostitutes: oh +yes, she can be civil enough to them; but let a political prisoner come +near her—one of her own sex, mind—and she becomes a devil, a tigress, +a vampire. Ah, Madame Petrovna and I may have a little reckoning some +day. I have asked Lind again and again to petition for a decree against +her; but no, he will not move; he is becoming Anglicized, effeminate."</p> + +<p>"A decree?" Brand said.</p> + +<p>The other smiled, with an affectation of calm superiority.</p> + +<p>"You will learn by-and-by. Meanwhile, if I dared, what I should like to +do would be to give our friend here plenty of money, and not one but two +knives, saying to him. 'My good friend, here is one knife for +Michaieloff, if you like; but first of all here is this knife for that +angel in disguise, Madame Petrovna, of the Female Penitentiary in +Novolevsk. Strike sure and hard!'"</p> + +<p>For one instant his affectation forsook him, and there was a gleam in +his eyes. This was but a momentary relapse from his professed +indifference.</p> + +<p>"Well, Mr. Brand, I suppose I must take over this madman from you. You +may tell Miss Lind she need not be frightened."</p> + +<p>"I should not think Miss Lind was in the habit of being frightened," +said Brand, coldly.</p> + +<p>"Ah, no; doubtless not. Well, I shall see that this fellow does not +trouble her again. What fine tidings we had of your work in the North! +You have been a power; you have moved mountains."</p> + +<p>"I have moved John Molyneux," said Brand, with a laugh, "and in these +days that is a more difficult business."</p> + +<p>"Fine news from Spain, too," said Reitzei, glancing at some letters. +"From Valladolid, Barcelona, Ferrol, Saragossa—all the same story: +coalition, coalition. Salmero will be in London next week."</p> + +<p>"But you have not told me what you are going to do with this man yet; +you must stow the combustible piece of goods somewhere. Poor devil, his +sufferings have made a pitiable object of him."</p> + +<p>"My dear friend," said Reitzei, "You don't suppose that a Russian +peasant would feel so deeply a beating with whips, or the worrying of +dogs, or even the loss of his wife? Of course, all together, it was +something of a hard grind. He must have been constitutionally insane, +and that woke the whole thing up."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 98 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span></p><p>"Then he should be confined. He is a lunatic at large."</p> + +<p>"I don't think he would harm anybody," Reitzei said, regarding the man +as if he were a strange animal. "I would not shut up a dog in a lunatic +asylum; I would rather put a bullet through his head. And this +fellow—if we could humbug him a little, and get him to his work +again—I know a man in Wardour Street who would do that for me—and see +what effect the amassing of a little English money might have on him. +Better a miser than a wild beast. And he seems a submissive sort of +creature. Leave him to me, Mr. Brand."</p> + +<p>Brand began to think a little better of Reitzei, whom hitherto he had +rather disliked. He handed him five pounds, to get some clothes and +tools for the man, who, when he was told of this generosity, turned to +Brand and said something to him in Russian which set Reitzei laughing.</p> + +<p>"What is it he says?"</p> + +<p>"He said, 'Little Father, you are worthy to become the husband of the +angel: may the day come soon!' I suppose the angel is Miss Lind; she +must have been very kind to the man."</p> + +<p>"She only spoke to him; but her voice can be kind," said Brand, rather +absently, and then he left.</p> + +<p>Away went the hansom back to Curzon Street. He said to himself that it +was not for nothing that this unfortunate wretch Kirski had wandered all +the way from the Dnieper to the Thames. He would look after this man. He +would do something for him. Five pounds only? And he had been the means +of securing this interview, if only for three of four minutes; after the +long period of labor and hope and waiting he might have gone without a +word at all but for this over-troubled poor devil.</p> + +<p>And now—now he might even see her alone for a couple of minutes in the +hushed little drawing-room; and she might say if she had heard about +what had been done in the North, and about his eagerness to return to +the work. One look of thanks; that was enough. Sometimes, by himself up +there in the solitary inns, the old fit had come over him; and he had +laughed at himself, and wondered at this new fire of occupation and +interest that was blazing through his life, and asked himself, as of +old, to what end—to what end? But when he heard Natalie Lind's voice, +there was a quick good-bye to all questioning. One look at the calm, +earnest eyes, and he drank deep of faith, courage, devotion. And surely +this story of the man Kirski—what he could tell her of it—would be +sufficient to fill up five minutes, eight minutes, ten minute, while +<!-- Page 99 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span>all the time he should be able to dwell on her eyes, whether they were +downcast, or turned to his with their frank, soft glance. He should be +in the perfume of the small drawing-room. He would see the Roman +necklace Mazzini had given her gleam on her bosom as she breathed.</p> + +<p>He did not know what Natalie Lind had been about during his absence.</p> + +<p>"Anneli, Anneli—hither, child!" she called in German. "Run up to Madame +Potecki, and ask her to come and spend the afternoon with me. She must +come at once, to lunch with me; I will wait."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Fraulein. What music, Fraulein?"</p> + +<p>"None; never mind any music. But she must come at once."</p> + +<p>"Schon, Fraulein," said the little Anneli, about to depart.</p> + +<p>Her young mistress called her back, and paused, with a little +hesitation.</p> + +<p>"You may tell Elizabeth," said she, with an indifferent air, "that it is +possible—it is quite possible—it is at least possible—I may have two +friends to lunch with me; and she must send at once if she wants +anything more. And you could bring me back some fresh flowers, Anneli?"</p> + +<p>"Why not, Fraulein?"</p> + +<p>"Go quick, then, Anneli—fly like a roe—<i>durch Wald und auf der +Haide</i>!"</p> + +<p>And so it came about that when George Brand was ushered into the scented +little drawing-room—so anxious to make the most of the invaluable +minutes—he found himself introduced first of all to Madame Potecki, a +voluble, energetic little Polish gentlewoman, whose husband had been +killed in the Warsaw disturbances of '61, and who now supported herself +in London by teaching music. She was eager to know all about the man +Kirski, and hoped that he was not wholly a maniac, and trusted that Mr. +Brand would see that her dear child—her adopted daughter, she might +say—was not terrified again by the madman.</p> + +<p>"My dear madame," said Brand, "you must not imagine that it was from +terror that Miss Lind handed over the man to me—it was from kindness. +That is more natural to her than terror."</p> + +<p>"Ah, I know the dear child has the courage of an army," said the little +old lady, tapping her adopted daughter on the shoulder with the fan. +"But she must take care of herself while her papa is away in America."</p> + +<p>Natalie rose; and of course Brand rose also, with a sudden <!-- Page 100 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span>qualm of +disappointment, for he took that as the signal of his dismissal; and he +had scarcely spoken a word to her.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Brand," said she, with some little trifle of embarrassment, "I know +I must have deprived you of your luncheon. It was so kind of you to go +at once with the poor man. Would it save you time—if you are not going +anywhere—I thought perhaps you might come and have something with +madame and myself. You must be dying of hunger."</p> + +<p>He did not refuse the invitation. And behold! when he went down-stairs, +the table was already laid for three; had he been expected, he asked +himself? Those flowers there, too: he knew it was no maid-servant's +fingers that had arranged and distributed them so skilfully.</p> + +<p>How he blessed this little Polish lady, and her volubility, and her +extravagant, subtle, honest flattery of her dear adopted daughter! It +gave him liberty to steep himself in the rich consciousness of Natalie's +presence; he could listen in silence for the sound of her voice—he +could covertly watch the beauty of her shapely hands—without being +considered preoccupied or morose. All he had to do was to say, "Yes, +madame," or "Indeed, madame," the while he knew that Natalie Lind was +breathing the same air with him—that at any moment the large, lustrous +dark eyes might look up and meet his. And she spoke little, too; and had +scarcely her usual frank self-confidence: perhaps a chance reference of +Madame Potecki to the fact that her adopted daughter had been brought up +without a mother had somewhat saddened her.</p> + +<p>The room was shaded in a measure, for the French silk blinds were down; +but there was a soft golden glow prevailing all the same. For many a day +George Brand remembered that little luncheon-party; the dull, bronze +glow of the room; the flowers; the soft, downcast eyes opposite him; the +bright, pleasant garrulity of the little Polish lady; and always—ah, +the delight of it!—that strange, trembling, sweet consciousness that +Natalie Lind was listening as he listened—that almost he could have +heard the beating of her heart.</p> + +<p>And a hundred and a hundred times he swore that, whoever throughout the +laboring and suffering world might regret that day, the man Kirski +should not.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><!-- Page 101 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV.</h2> + +<h3>NEW FRIENDS.</h3> + + +<p>It was a Sunday afternoon in Hyde Park, in this pleasantly opening +summer; and there was a fair show of "the quality" come out for their +accustomed promenade, despite the few thunder-showers that had swept +across from the South. These, in fact, had but served to lay the dust, +and to bring out the scent of the hawthorns and lilacs, so that the air +was sweet with perfume; while the massive clouds, banking up in the +North, formed a purple background to show up the young green foliage of +the trees, all wet with rain, and shimmering tremulously in the +sunlight.</p> + +<p>George Brand and his friend Evelyn sat in the back row of chairs, +watching the people pass and repass. It was a sombre procession, but +that here and there appeared a young English girl in her pale spring +costume—paler than the fresh glow of youth and health on her face, and +that here and there the sunlight, wandering down through the branches, +touched a scarlet sunshade—just then coming into fashion—until that +shone like a beautiful spacious flower among the mass of green.</p> + +<p>When they had been silently watching the people for some little time, +Brand said, almost to himself,</p> + +<p>"How very unlike those women she is!"</p> + +<p>"Who? Oh, Natalie Lind," said the other, who had been speaking of her +some minutes before. "Well, that is natural and I don't say it to their +disadvantage. I believe most girls are well-intended enough; but, of +course, they grow up in a particular social atmosphere, and it depends +on that what they become. If it is rather fast, the girl sees nothing +objectionable in being fast too. If it is religious, the god of her +idolatry is a bishop. If it is sporting, she thinks mostly about horses. +Natalie is exceptional, because she has been brought up in exceptional +circumstances. For one thing, she has been a good deal alone; and she +has formed all sorts of beautiful idealisms and aspirations—"</p> + +<p>The conversation dropped here; for at the moment Lord Evelyn espied two +of his sisters coming along in the slow procession.</p> + +<p>"Here come two of the girls," he said to his friend. "How precious +demure they look!"</p> + +<p><!-- Page 102 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span></p><p>Brand at once rose, and went out from the shadow of the trees, to pay +his respects to the two young ladies.</p> + +<p>"How do you do, Miss D'Agincourt? How do you do, Miss Frances?"</p> + +<p>Certainly no one would have suspected these two very graceful and +pleasant-looking girls of being madcap creatures at home. The elder was +a tall and slightly-built blonde, with large gray eyes set wide apart; +the younger a gentle little thing, with brownish eyes, freckles, and a +pretty mouth.</p> + +<p>"Mamma?" said the eldest daughter, in answer to his inquires. "Oh, she +is behind, bringing up the rear, as it were. We have to go in +detachment, or else the police would come and read the riot act against +us. Francie and I are the vanguard; and she feels such a good little +girl, marching along two and two, just as if she were back at Brighton."</p> + +<p>The clear gray eyes—quite demure—glanced in toward the shadows of the +trees.</p> + +<p>"I see you have got Evelyn there, Mr. Brand. Who is the extraordinary +person he is always talking about now—the Maid of Saragossa, or Joan of +Arc, or something like that? Do you know her?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose you mean Miss Lind."</p> + +<p>"I know he has persuaded mamma to go and call on her, and get her to +dine with us, if she will come. Now, I call that kind."</p> + +<p>"If she accepts, you mean?"</p> + +<p>"No, I mean nothing of the sort. Good-bye. If we stay another minute, we +shall have the middle detachments overlapping the vanguard. En avant, +Francie! Vorwarts!"</p> + +<p>She bowed to him, and passed on in her grave and stately manner: more +calmly observant, demurer eyes were not in the Park.</p> + +<p>He ran the gauntlet of the whole family, and at last encountered the +mamma, who brought up the rear with the youngest of her daughters. Lady +Evelyn was a tall, somewhat good-looking, elderly lady, who wore her +silver-white hair in old-fashioned curls. She was an amiable but +strictly matter-of-fact person, who beheld her daughters' mad humors +with surprise as well as alarm. What were they forever laughing at? +Besides, it was indecorous. She had not conducted herself in that manner +when she lived in her father's home.</p> + +<p>Lady Evelyn, who was vaguely aware that Brand knew the Linds, repeated +her daughter's information about the proposed visit, and said that if +Miss Lind would come and spend the evening with them, she hoped Mr. +Brand would come too.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 103 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span></p><p>"These girls do tease dreadfully, I know," said their mamma; "but +perhaps they will behave a little better before a stranger."</p> + +<p>Mr. Brand replied that he hoped Miss Lind would accept the +invitation—for during her father's absence she must be somewhat +dull—but that even without the protection of her presence he was not +afraid to face those formidable young ladies. Whereupon Miss +Geraldine—who was generally called the baby, though she was turned +thirteen—glanced at him with a look which said, "Won't you catch it for +that!" and the mamma then bade him good-bye, saying that Rosalys would +write to him as soon as the evening was arranged.</p> + +<p>He had not long to wait for that expected note. The very next night he +received it. Miss Lind was coming on Thursday; would that suit him? A +quarter to eight.</p> + +<p>He was there punctual to the moment. The presence of the whole rabble of +girls in the drawing-room told him that this was to be a quite private +and domestic dinner-party; on other occasions only two or three of the +phalanx—as Miss D'Agincourt described herself and her sisters—were +chosen to appear. And, on this especial occasion, there was a fine +hubbub of questions and raillery going on—which Brand vainly endeavored +to meet all at once—when he was suddenly rescued. The door was opened, +and Miss Lind was announced. The clamor ceased.</p> + +<p>She was dressed in black, with a red camellia in her bosom, and another +in the magnificent black hair. Brand thought he had never seen her look +so beautiful, and at once so graciously proud and gentle. Lady Evelyn +went forward to meet her, and greeted her very kindly indeed. She was +introduced to one or two of the girls. She shook hands with Mr. Brand, +and gave him a pleasant smile of greeting. Lady Evelyn had to apologize +for her son's absence; he had only gone to write a note.</p> + +<p>The tall, beautiful Hungarian girl seemed not in the least embarrassed +by all these curious eyes, that occasionally and covertly regarded her +while pretending not to do so. Two of the young ladies there were older +than she was, yet she seemed more of a woman than any of them. Her +self-possession was perfect. She sat down by Lady Evelyn, and submitted +to be questioned. The girls afterward told their brother they believed +she was an actress, because of the clever manner in which she managed +her train.</p> + +<p>But at this moment Lord Evelyn made his appearance in great excitement, +and with profuse apologies.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 104 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p><p>"But the fact is," said he, producing an evening paper, "the fact +is—just listen to this, Natalie: it is the report of a police case."</p> + +<p>At his thus addressing her by her Christian name the mother started +somewhat, and the demure eyes of the girls were turned to the floor, +lest they should meet any conscious glance.</p> + +<p>"Here is a fellow brought before the Hammersmith magistrate for +indulging in a new form of amusement. Oh, very pretty! very nice! He had +only got hold of a small dog and he was taking it by the two forelegs, +and trying how far he could heave it. Very well; he is brought before +the magistrates. He had only heaved the dog two or three times; nothing +at all, you know. You think he will get off with a forty shillings fine, +or something like that. Not altogether! Two months' hard labor—<i>two +solid months' hard labor</i>; and if I had my will of the brute," he +continued, savagely, "I would give ten years' hard labor, and bury him +alive when he came out. However, two months' hard labor is something. I +glory in that magistrate; I have just been up-stairs writing a note +asking him to dine with me. I believe I was introduced to him once."</p> + +<p>"Evelyn quite goes beside himself," his mother said to her guest, with +half an air of apology, "when he reads about cruelty like that."</p> + +<p>"Surely it is better than being callous," said Natalie, speaking very +gently.</p> + +<p>They went in to dinner; and the young ladies were very well behaved +indeed. They did not at all resent the fashion in which the whole +attention of the dinner-table was given to the stranger.</p> + +<p>"And so you like living in England?" said Lady Evelyn to her.</p> + +<p>"I cannot breathe elsewhere," was the simple answer.</p> + +<p>"Why," said the matter-of-fact, silver-haired lady, "if this country is +notorious for anything, it is for its foggy atmosphere!"</p> + +<p>"I think it is famous for something more than that," said the girl, with +just a touch of color in the beautiful face; for she was not accustomed +to speak before so many people. "Is it not more famous for its freedom? +It is that that makes the air so sweet to breathe."</p> + +<p>"Well, at all events, you don't find it very picturesque as compared +with other countries. Evelyn tells me you have travelled a great deal."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 105 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span></p><p>"Perhaps I am not very fond of picturesqueness," Natalie said, +modestly. "When I am travelling through a country I would rather see +plenty of small farms, thriving and prosperous, than splendid ruins that +tell only of oppression and extravagance, and the fierceness of war."</p> + +<p>No one spoke; so she made bold to continue—but she addressed Lady +Evelyn only.</p> + +<p>"No doubt it is very picturesque, as you go up the Rhine, or across the +See Kreis, or through the Lombard plains, to see every height crowned +with its castle. Yes, one cannot help admiring. They are like beautiful +flowers that have blossomed up from the valleys and the plains below. +But who tilled the land, that these should grow there on every height? +Are you not forced to think of the toiling wretches who labored and +labored to carry stone by stone up the crest of the hill? They did not +get much enjoyment out of the grandeur and picturesqueness of the +castles."</p> + +<p>"But they gave that labor for their own protection," Lady Evelyn said, +with a smile. "The great lords and barons were their protectors."</p> + +<p>"The great lords and barons said so, at least," said the girl, without +any smile at all, "and I suppose the peasantry believed them; and were +quite willing to leave their vineyards and go and shed their blood +whenever the great lords and barons quarrelled among themselves."</p> + +<p>"Well said! well said!" Brand exclaimed, quickly; though, indeed, this +calm, gentle-eyed, self-possessed girl was in no need of any champion.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid you are a great Radical, Miss Lind," said Lady Evelyn.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it is your English air, Lady Evelyn," said the girl, with a +smile.</p> + +<p>Lord Evelyn's mother, notwithstanding her impassive, unimaginative +nature, soon began to betray a decided interest in this new guest, and +even something more. She was attracted, to begin with, by the singular +beauty of the young Hungarian lady, which was foreign-looking, unusual, +picturesque. She was struck by her perfect self-possession, and by the +<ins class="correction" title="Printed: ease and and grace">ease and grace</ins> of her manner, which was rather that of a mature +woman than of a girl of nineteen. But most of all she was interested in +her odd talk and opinions, which she expressed with such absolute +simplicity and frankness. Was it, Lady Evelyn asked herself, that the +girl had been brought up so much in the society of men—that she had +neither mother nor sisters—that she spoke of politics and such matters +as if it <!-- Page 106 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span>the most natural thing in the world for women, of whatever +age, to consider them as of first importance?</p> + +<p>But one chance remark that Natalie made, on the impulse of the moment, +did for the briefest possible time break down that charming +self-confidence of hers, and show her—to the wonderment of the English +girls—the prey of an alarmed embarrassment. George Brand had been +talking of patriotism, and of the scorn that must naturally be felt for +the man who would say of his country, "Well, it will last my time. Let +me enjoy myself when I can. What do I care about the future of other +people?" And then he went on to talk of the larger patriotism that +concerned itself not merely with one's fellow-countrymen but with one's +fellow-mortals; and how the stimulus and enthusiasm of that wider +patriotism should be proportionately stronger; and how it might seek to +break down artificial barriers of political systems and religious +creeds. Patriotism was a beautiful flame—a star; but here was a sun. +Ordinary, to tell the truth, Brand was but an indifferent speaker—he +had all an Englishman's self-consciousness; but now he spoke for Natalie +alone, and minded the others but little. Presently Lady Evelyn said, +with a smile,</p> + +<p>"You, too, Miss Lind, are a reformer, are you not? Evelyn is very +mysterious, and I can't quite make out what he means; but at all events +it is very kind of you to spare us an evening when you must be so deeply +engaged."</p> + +<p>"I?" said Natalie. "Oh no, it is very little that I can do. The work is +too difficult and arduous for women, perhaps. But there is one thing +that women can do—they can love and honor those who are working for +them."</p> + +<p>It was spoken impulsively—probably the girl was thinking only of her +father. But at the moment she happened to look up, and there were +Rosalys D'Agincourt's calmly observant eyes fixed on her. Then some +vague echo of what she had said rushed in upon her; she was bewildered +by the possible interpretation others might put on the words; and the +quick, sensitive blood mounted to her forehead. But fortunately Lady +Evelyn, who had missed the whole thing, happened at this very instant to +begin talking of orchids, and Natalie struck in with great relief. So +that little episode went by.</p> + +<p>And, as dinner went on, Brand became more and more convinced that this +family was the most delightful family in England. Just so much restraint +had left their manner as to render those madcap girls exceedingly frank +and good-natured in the courtesy they showed to their guest, and to +admit her as a confidante into their ways of bantering each other. And +<!-- Page 107 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span>one would herself come round to shift the fire-screen behind Miss Lind +to precisely the proper place; and another said that Miss Lind drank +water because Evelyn had been so monstrously stupid as not to have any +Hungarian wine for her; and another asked if she might call on Miss Lind +the following afternoon, to take her to some place where some marvellous +Japanese curiosities were on view. Then, when they left for the +drawing-room, the eldest Miss D'Agincourt put her arm within the arm of +their guest, and said,</p> + +<p>"Now, dear Miss Lind, please understand that, if there was any stranger +here at all, we should not dream of asking you to sing. Ermentrude and I +take all that on our shoulders; we squawk for the whole of the family. +But Evelyn has told us so much about your singing—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I will sing for you if you wish it," said Natalie, without +hesitation.</p> + +<p>Some little time thereafter Brand was walking up and down the room +below, slowly and thoughtfully: he was not much of a wine-drinker.</p> + +<p>"Evelyn," he said, suddenly, "I shall soon be able to tell you whether I +owe you a life-long gratitude. I owe you much already. Through you I +have got some work to do in the world; I am busy, and content. But there +is a greater prize."</p> + +<p>"I think I can guess what you mean," his companion said, calmly.</p> + +<p>"You do?" said the other, with a quick look. "And you do not think I am +mad?—to go and ask her to be my wife before she has given me a single +word of hope?"</p> + +<p>"She has spoken to others about you: I know what she thinks of you," +said Lord Evelyn. Then the fine, pale face was slightly flushed. "To +tell you the truth, Brand, I thought of this before you ever saw her."</p> + +<p>"Thought of what?" said the other, with a stare of surprise.</p> + +<p>"That you would be the right sort of man to make a husband for her: she +might be left alone in the world at any moment, without a single +relation, and scarcely a friend."</p> + +<p>"Women don't marry for these reasons," said the other, somewhat +absently. "And yet, if she were to think of it, it would not be as if I +were withdrawing her from everything she takes an interest in. We should +be together. I am eager to go forward, even by myself; but with her for +a companion—think of that!"</p> + +<p>"I have thought of it," said Lord Evelyn, with something of a sad smile. +"Often. And there is no man in England <!-- Page 108 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span>more heartily wishes you success +than I do. Come, let us go up to the drawing-room."</p> + +<p>They went out into the hall. Some one was playing a noisy piece +up-stairs; it was safe to speak. And then he said,</p> + +<p>"Shall I tell you something, Brand?—something that will keep you awake +all this night, and not with the saddest of thinking? If I am not +mistaken, I fancy you have already 'stole bonny Glenlyon away.'"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI.</h2> + +<h3>A LETTER.</h3> + + +<p>Black night lay over the city, and silence; the river flowed unseen +through the darkness; but a thousand golden points of fire mapped out +the lines of the Embankment and the long curves of the distant bridges. +The infrequent sounds that could be heard were strangely distinct, even +when they were faint and remote. There was a slight rustling of wind in +the trees below the window.</p> + +<p>But the night and the silence brought him neither repose nor counsel. A +multitude of bewildering, audacious hopes and distracting fears strove +for mastery in his mind, upsetting altogether the calm and cool judgment +on which he prided himself. His was not a nature to harbor illusions; he +had a hard way of looking at things; and yet—and yet—might not this +chance speech of Lord Evelyn have been something more than a bit of +good-humored raillery? Lord Evelyn was Natalie's intimate friend; he +knew all her surroundings; he was a quick observer; he was likely to +know if this thing was possible. But, on the other hand, how was it +possible that so beautiful a creature, in the perfect flower of her +youth, should be without a lover? He forced himself to remember that she +and her father seemed to see no society at all. Perhaps she was too +useful to him, and he would not have her entangle herself with many +friends. Perhaps they had led too nomadic a life. But even in hotels +abroad, how could she have avoided the admiration she was sure to evoke? +And in Florence, mayhap, or Mentone, or Madrid; and here he began to +conjure up a host of possible rivals, all foreigners, of course, and all +equally detestable, and to draw pictures for him of <i>tables d'hote</i>, +with always the one beautiful figure there, unconscious, gentle, silent, +but drawing to her all men's eyes.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 109 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p><p>There was but the one way of putting an end to this maddening +uncertainty. He dared not claim an interview with her; she might be +afraid of implying too much by granting it; various considerations might +dictate a refusal. But he could write; and, in point of fact, +writing-materials were on the table. Again and again he had sat down and +taken the pen in his hand, only to get up as often and go and stare out +into the yellow glare of the night. For an instant his shadow would fall +on the foliage of the trees below, and then pass away again like a +ghost.</p> + +<p>At two-and-twenty love is reckless, and glib of speech; it takes little +heed of the future; the light straw-flame, for however short a period, +leaps up merrily enough. But at two-and-thirty it is more alive to +consequences; it is not the present moment, but the duration of life, +that it regards; it seeks to proceed with a sure foot. And at this +crisis, in the midst of all this irresolution, that was unspeakably +vexatious to a man of his firm nature, Brand demanded of himself his +utmost power of self-control. He would not imperil the happiness of his +life by a hasty, importunate appeal. When at length he sat down, +determined not to rise until he had sent her this message, he forced +himself to write—at the beginning, at least—in a roundabout and +indifferent fashion, so that she should not be alarmed. He began by +excusing his writing to her, saying he had scarcely ever had a chance of +talking to her, and that he wished to tell her something of what had +happened to him since the memorable evening on which he had first met +her at her father's house. And he went on to speak to her of a friend of +his, who used to amuse himself with the notion that he would like to +enter himself at a public school and go through his school life all over +again. There he had spent the happiest of his days; why should he not +repeat them? If only the boys would agree to treat him as one of +themselves, why should he not be hail-fellow-well-met with them, and +once more enjoy the fun of uproarious pillow-battles and have smuggled +tarts and lemonade at night, and tame rabbits where no rabbits should +be, and a profound hero-worship for the captain of the school Eleven, +and excursions out of bounds, when his excess of pocket-money would +enable him to stand treat all round? "Why not?" this friend of his used +to say. "Was it so very impossible for one to get back the cares and +interests, the ambitions, the amusements, the high spirits of one's +boyhood?" And if he now were to tell her that a far greater miracle had +happened to himself? That at an age when he had fancied he had done and +seen <!-- Page 110 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span>most things worth doing and seeing, when the past seemed to +contain everything worth having, and there was nothing left but to try +how the tedious hours could be got over; when a listless <i>ennui</i> was +eating his very heart out—that he should be presented, as it were, with +a new lease of life, with stirring hopes and interests, with a new and +beautiful faith, with a work that was a joy in itself, whether any +reward was to be or no? And surely he could not fail to express to Lord +Evelyn and to herself his gratitude for this strange thing.</p> + +<p>These are but the harsh outlines of what, so far, he wrote; but there +was a feeling in it—a touch of gladness and of pathos here and +there—that had never before been in any of his writing, and of which he +was himself unconscious.</p> + +<p>But at this point he paused, and his breathing grew quick. It was so +difficult to write in these measured terms. When he resumed, he wrote +more rapidly.</p> + +<p>What wonder, he made bold to ask her, if amidst all this bewildering +change some still stranger dream of what might be possible in the future +should have taken possession of him? She and he were leagued in sympathy +as regarded the chief object of their lives; it was her voice that had +inspired him; might he not hope that they should go forward together, in +close friendship at least, if there could be nothing more? And as to +that something more, was there no hope? He could give himself no grounds +for any such hope; and yet—so much had happened to him, and mostly +through her, that he could set no limit to the possibilities of +happiness that lay in her generous hands. When he saw her among others, +he despaired; when he thought of her alone, and of the gentleness of her +heart, he dared to hope. And if this declaration of his was distressing +to her, how easy it was for her to dismiss and forget it. If he had +dared too much, he had himself to blame. In any case, she need not fear +that her refusal should have the effect of dissociating them in those +wider interests and sympathies to which he had pledged himself. He was +not one to draw back. And if he had alarmed or offended her, he appealed +to her charity—to that great kindness which she seemed eager to extend +to all living creatures. How could such a vision of possible happiness +have arisen in his mind without his making one effort, however +desperate, to realize it? At the worst, she would forgive.</p> + +<p>This was, in brief, the substance of what he wrote; but when, after many +an anxious re-reading, he put the letter in an envelope, he was +miserably conscious how little it conveyed of <!-- Page 111 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span>all the hope and desire +that had hold of his heart. But then, he argued with himself, if she +inclined her ear so far, surely he would have other and better +opportunities of pleading with her; whereas, if he had been dreaming of +impossibilities, then he and she would meet the more easily in the +future that he had not given too vehement an expression to all the love +and admiration he felt for her. He could not sacrifice her friendship +also—her society—the chances of listening from time to time to the +musical low, soft voice.</p> + +<p>Carrying this fateful letter in his hand, he went down stairs and out +into the cool night air. And now he was haunted by a hundred fears. +Again and again he was on the point of turning back to add something, to +alter something, to find some phrase that would appeal more closely to +her heart. And then all of a sudden he convinced himself that he should +not have written at all. Why not have gone to see her, at any risk, to +plead with herself? But then he would have had to write to beg for a +<i>tete-a-tete</i> interview; and would not that be more distinctly alarming +than this roundabout epistle, which was meant to convey so much +indirectly? Finally, he arrived at the pillar letter-box: and this +indisputable fact brought an end to his cogitations. If he had gone +walking onward he would have wasted the night in fruitless counsel. He +would have repeated again and again the sentences he had used; striven +to picture her as she read; wondered if he ought not still to go back +and strengthen his prayer. But now it was to be yes or no. Well, he +posted the letter; and then he breathed more freely. The die was cast, +for good or ill.</p> + +<p>And, indeed, no sooner was the thing done than his spirits rose +considerably, and he walked on with a lighter heart. This solitary +London, all lamp-lit and silent, was a beautiful city. "<i>Schlaf <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: "seligund" in the original text"> +selig und</ins> suss</i>," the soft stirring of the night-wind +seemed to say: let her not dread the message the morning would bring! He +thought of the other cities she must have visited; and if—ah, the dream +of it!—if he and she were to go away together to behold the glories of +the moonlight on the lagoon, and the wonders of the sunrise among the +hills! He had been in Rome, he remembered, a wonderful coronet of +rubies: would not that do for the beautiful black masses of hair? Or +pearls? She did not appear to have much jewellery. Or rather—seeing +that such things are possible between husband and wife—would she not +accept the value, and far more than the value, of any jewellery she +could desire, to be given away in acts of kindness? That would be more +like Natalie.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 112 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span></p><p>He walked on, his heart full of an audacious joy; for now this was the +picture before him; a Buckinghamshire hill; a red and white house among +the beeches; and a spacious lawn looking out on the far and wooded +plain, with its villages, and spires, and tiny curls of smoke. And this +foreign young lady become an English house-mistress; proud of her +nectarines and pineapples; proud of her Hungarian horses; proud of the +quiet and comfort of the home she can offer to her friends, when they +come for a space to rest from their labors.... "<i>Schlaf selig und +suss!</i>" the night-wind seemed to say: "The white morning is bringing +with it a message!"</p> + +<p>To him the morning brought an end to all those golden dreams of the +night. There action had set in. His old misgivings returned with +redoubled force. For one thing, there was a letter from Reitzei, saying +that the man Kirski had at length consented to begin to work at his +trade, and that Miss Lind need fear no further annoyance; and somehow he +did not like to see her name written in this foreign way of writing. She +belonged to these foreigners; her cares and interests were not those of +one who would feel at home in that Buckhamshire home; she was remote. +And, of course, in her manifold wanderings—in those hotels in which she +had to pass the day, when her father was absent at his secret +interviews—how could she avoid making acquaintances? Even among those +numerous friends of her father's there must have been some one here or +there to accompany her in her drives in the Prater, in her evenings at +La Scala, in her morning walk along the Chiaja. He remembered how seldom +he had seen her; she might have many more friends in London than he had +dreamed of. Who could see her, and remain blind to her beauty? Who could +know her, and remain insensible to the fascination of her enthusiasm, +her faith in the right, her courage, her hope, her frank friendship with +those who would help?</p> + +<p>He was impatient with the veteran Waters this morning; and Waters was +himself fractious, and inclined to resent sarcasm. He had just heard +from Buckinghamshire that his substitute had, for some reason or other, +intrusted the keys of the wine-cellar to one of the house-maids; and +that that industrious person had seized the opportunity to tilt up all +the port-wine she could lay her hands on in order to polish the bottles +with a duster.</p> + +<p>"Well," said his master, "I suppose she collected the cobwebs and sold +them to a wine-merchant: they would be invaluable."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 113 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p><p>Waters said nothing, but resolved to have a word with the young woman +when he went down.</p> + +<p>The morning was fine; in any case, Brand could not have borne the +distress of waiting in all day, on the chance of her reply coming. He +had to be moving. He walked up to Lisle Street, and saw Reitzei, on the +pretext of talking about Kirski.</p> + +<p>"Lind will be back in a week," said the pallid-faced smart young man. +"He writes with great satisfaction, which always means something in his +case. I should not wonder if he and his daughter went to live in the +States."</p> + +<p>"Oh, indeed," said Brand, coldly; but the words made his heart tremble.</p> + +<p>"Yes. And if you would only go through the remaining degrees, you might +take his place—who knows?"</p> + +<p>"Who knows, indeed?" said Brand. "But I don't covet the honor."</p> + +<p>There was something in his tone which made the other look up.</p> + +<p>"I mean the responsibility," he said, quickly.</p> + +<p>"You see," observed Reitzei, leaning back in his chair, "one must admit +you are having rather hard lines. Your work is invaluable to us—Lind is +most proud of it—but it is tedious and difficult, eh? Now if they were +to give you something like the Syrian business—"</p> + +<p>"What is that?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, only one of the many duties the Society has undertaken," said +Reitzei, carelessly. "Not that I approve because the people are +Christians; it is because they are numerically weak; and the Mahommedans +treat them shamefully. There is no one knows about it; no one to make a +row about it; and the Government won't let the poor wretches import arms +to defend themselves. Very well: very well, messieurs! But your +Government allow the importation of guns for sport. Ha! and then, if one +can find money, and an ingenious English firm to make rifle-barrels to +fit into the sporting-gun stock can you conceive any greater fun than +smuggling these barrels into the country? My dear fellow, it is +glorious: we could have five hundred volunteers! But at the same time I +say your work is more valuable to us. No one but an Englishman could do +it. Every one knows of your success."</p> + +<p>Brand thanked Reitzei for his good opinion, and rather absently took up +his hat and left. Instinctively he made his way westward. He was sure to +see her, at a distance, taking this morning stroll of hers: might he not +guess something <!-- Page 114 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span>from her face as to what her reply would be? She could +not have written so soon; she would take time to consider; even a +refusal would, he knew, be gently worded.</p> + +<p>In any case, he would see her; and if her answer gave no hope, it would +be the last time on which he would follow that graceful figure from afar +with his eyes, and wonder to himself what the low and musical voice was +saying to Anneli. And as he walked on, he grew more and more +downhearted. It was a certainty that, out of all those friends of her +father's some one must have dreamed of possessing this beautiful prize +for his own.</p> + +<p>When, after not much waiting, he saw Natalie and Anneli cross into the +Park, he had so reasoned himself into despair that he was not +surprised—at least he tried to convince himself that he was not +surprised—to perceive that the former was accompanied by a stranger, +the little German maid-servant walking not quite with them, and yet not +altogether behind them. He could almost have expected this; and yet his +eyes seemed hot, and he had some difficulty in trying to make out who +this might be. And at this great distance he could only gather that he +was foreign in appearance, and that he wore a peaked cap in place of a +hat.</p> + +<p>He dared not follow them now; and he was about to turn away when he saw +Natalie's new companion motion to her to sit down on one of the seats. +He sat down, too; and he took her hand, and held it in his. What then?</p> + +<p>This man looking on from a distance, with a bitter heart, had no thought +against her. Was it not natural for so beautiful a girl to have a lover? +But that this fellow—this foreigner—should degrade her by treating her +as if she were a nursery-maid flirting with one of the soldiers from the +barracks down there, this filled him with bitterness and hatred. He +turned and walked away with a firm step. He had no ill thoughts of her, +whatever message she might send him. At the worst, she had been generous +to him; she had filled his life with love and hope; she had given him a +future. If this dream were shattered, at least he could turn elsewhere, +and say, "Labor, be thou my good."</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, of this stranger? He had indeed taken Natalie Lind's hand in +his, and Natalie let it remain there without hesitation.</p> + +<p>"My little daughter," said he to her in Italian, "I could have +recognized you by your hands. You have the hands of your mother: no one +in the world had more beautiful hands <!-- Page 115 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span>than she had. And now I will tell +you about her, if you promise not to cry any more."</p> + +<p>It was Calabressa who spoke.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII.</h2> + +<h3>CALABRESSA.</h3> + + +<p>When Calabressa called at the house in Curzon Street he was at once +admitted; Natalie recognizing the name as that of one of her father's +old friends. Calabressa had got himself up very smartly, to produce an +impression on the little Natalushka whom he expected to see. His +military-looking coat was tightly buttoned; he had burnished up the gold +braid of his cap; and as he now ascended the stairs he gathered the ends +of his mustache out of his yellow-white beard and curled them round and +round his fingers and pulled them out straight. He had already assumed a +pleasant smile.</p> + +<p>But when he entered the shaded drawing-room, and beheld this figure +before him, all the dancing-master's manner instantly fled from him. He +seemed thunderstruck; he shrunk back a little; his cap fell to the +floor; he could not utter a word.</p> + +<p>"Excuse me—excuse me, mademoiselle," he gasped out at length, in his +odd French. "Ah, it is like a ghost—like other years come back—"</p> + +<p>He stared at her.</p> + +<p>"I am very pleased to see you, sir," said she to him, gently, in +Italian.</p> + +<p>"Her voice also—her voice also!" he exclaimed, almost to himself, in +the same tongue. "Signorina, you will forgive me—but—when one sees an +old friend—you are so like—ah, so like—"</p> + +<p>"You are speaking of my mother?" the girl said, with her eyes cast down. +"I have been told that I was like her. You knew her, signore?"</p> + +<p>Calabressa pulled himself together somewhat. He picked up his cap; he +assumed a more business-like air.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, signorina, I knew her," he said, with an apparent carelessness, +but he was regarding her all the same. "Yes, I knew her well. We were +friends long before she married. What, are you surprised that I am so +old? Do you know <!-- Page 116 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span>that I can remember you when you were a very little +thing—at Dunkirk it was—and what a valiant young lady you were, and +you would go to fight the Russians all by yourself! And you—you do not +remember your mother?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell," she said, sadly. "They say it is impossible, and yet I +seem to remember one who loved me, and my grief when I asked for her and +found she would never come back—or else that is only my recollection of +what I was told by others. But what of that? I know where she is now: +she is my constant companion. I know she loved me; I know she is always +regarding me; I talk to her, so that I am never quite alone; at night I +pray to her, as if she were a saint—"</p> + +<p>She turned aside somewhat; her eyes were full of tears. Calabressa said +quickly,</p> + +<p>"Ah, signorina, why recall what is so sad? It is so useless. <i>Allons +donc!</i> shall I tell you of my surprise when I saw you first? A +ghost—that is nothing! It is true, your father warned me. He said, 'The +little Natalushka is a woman now.' But how could one believe it?"</p> + +<p>She had recovered her composure; she begged him to be seated.</p> + +<p>"<i>Bien!</i> One forgets. Then my old mother—my dear young lady, even I, +old as I am, have a mother—what does she do but draw a prize in the +Austro-Hungarian lottery—a huge prize—enough to demoralize one for +life—five thousand florins. More remarkable still, the money is paid. +Not so remarkable, my good mother declares she will give half of it to +an undutiful son, who has never done very well with money in this world. +We come to the <i>denouement</i> quickly. 'What,' said I, 'shall I do with my +new-found liberty and my new-found money? To the devil with banks! I +will be off and away to the land of fogs to see my little friend +Natalushka, and ask her what she thinks of the Russians now.' And the +result? My little daughter, you have given me such a fright that I can +feel my hands still trembling."</p> + +<p>"I am very sorry," said she, with a smile. This gay manner of his had +driven away her sad memories. It seemed quite natural to her that he +should address her as "My little daughter."</p> + +<p>"But where are the fogs? It is a paradise that I have reached—the air +clear and soft, the gardens beautiful. This morning I said to myself, 'I +will go early. Perhaps the little Natalushka will be going out for a +walk; perhaps we will go together.' No, signorina," said he, with a +mock-<!-- Page 117 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span>heroic bow, "it was not with the intention of buying you toys. But +was I not right? Do I not perceive by your costume that you were about +to go out?"</p> + +<p>"That is nothing, signore," said she. "It would be very strange if I +could not give up my morning walk for an old friend of my father's."</p> + +<p>"<i>An contraire</i>, you shall not give up your walk," said he, with great +courtesy. "We will go together; and then you will tell me about your +father."</p> + +<p>She accepted this invitation without the slightest scruple. It did not +occur to her—as it would naturally have occurred, to most English +girls—that she would rather not go walking in Hyde Park with a person +who looked remarkably like the leader of a German band.</p> + +<p>But Calabressa had known her mother.</p> + +<p>"Ah, signore," said she, when they had got into the outer air, "I shall +be so grateful to you if you will tell me about my mother. My father +will not speak of her; I dare not awaken his grief again; he must have +suffered much. You will tell me about her."</p> + +<p>"My little daughter, your father is wise. Why awaken old sorrows? You +must not spoil your eyes with more crying."</p> + +<p>And then he went on to speak of all sorts of things, in his rapid, +interjectional fashion—of his escape from prison mostly—until he +perceived that she was rather silent and sad.</p> + +<p>"Come then," said he, "we will sit down on this seat. Give me your +hand."</p> + +<p>She placed her hand in his without hesitation; and he patted it gently, +and said how like it was to the hand of her mother.</p> + +<p>"You are a little taller than she was," said he; "a little—not much. +Ah, how beautiful she was! She had many sweethearts."</p> + +<p>He was silent for a minute or two.</p> + +<p>"Some of them richer, some of them of nobler birth than your father; and +one of them her own cousin, whom all her family wanted her to marry. But +you know, little daughter, your father is a very determined man—"</p> + +<p>"But she loved him the best?" said the girl, quickly.</p> + +<p>"Ah, no doubt, no doubt," said Calabressa. "He is very kind to you, is +he not?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes. Who could be kinder? But about my mother, signore?"</p> + +<p><!-- Page 118 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span></p><p>Calabressa seemed somewhat embarrassed.</p> + +<p>"To say the truth, little daughter, how am I to tell you? I scarcely +ever saw her after she married. Before then, you must imagine yourself +as you are to think of her picture: and she was very much beloved—and +very fond of horses. Is not that enough to tell? Ah, yes, another thing: +she was very brave when there was any danger; and you know all the +family were strong patriots; and one or two got into sad trouble. When +her father—that is your grandfather, little daughter—when he failed to +escape into Turkey after the assassination—"</p> + +<p>Here Calabressa stopped, and then gave a slight wave of his hand.</p> + +<p>"These are matters not interesting to you. But when her father had to +seek a hiding-place she went with him in despite of everybody. I do not +suppose he would be alive now but for her devotion."</p> + +<p>"Is my mother's father alive?" the girl said, with eyes wide open.</p> + +<p>"I <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: "belive" in the original text"> +believe</ins> so; but the less said about it the +better, little daughter."</p> + +<p>"Why has my father never told me?" she asked, with the same almost +incredulous stare.</p> + +<p>"Have I not hinted? The less said the better. There are some things no +government will amnesty. Your grandfather was a good patriot, little +daughter."</p> + +<p>Thereafter for some minutes silence. Slight as was the information +Calabressa had given her, it was of intensest interest to her. There was +much for her to think over. Her mother, whom she had been accustomed to +regard as a beautiful saint, placed far above the common ways of earth, +was suddenly presented to her in a new light. She thought of her young, +handsome, surrounded with lovers, proud-spirited and patriotic—a +devoted daughter, a brave woman.</p> + +<p>"You also loved her?" she said to Calabressa.</p> + +<p>The man started. She had spoken quite innocently—almost absently: she +was thinking that he, too, must have loved the brave young Hungarian +girl as all the world loved her.</p> + +<p>"I?" said Calabressa. "Oh yes, I was a friend of hers for many years. I +taught her Italian; she corrected my Magyar. Once her horse ran way; I +was walking, and saw her coming; there was a wagon and oxen, and I +shouted to the man; he drew the oxen right across the road, and barred +the way. Ah, how angry she used to be—she pretended to <!-- Page 119 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span>be—when they +told her I had saved her life! She was a bold rider."</p> + +<p>Presently Calabressa said, with a lighter air,</p> + +<p>"Come, let us talk of something else—of you, <i>par exemple</i>. How do you +like the English? You have many sweethearts among them, of course."</p> + +<p>"No, signore, I have no sweethearts," said Natalie, without any trace of +embarrassment.</p> + +<p>"What! Is is possible? When I saw your father in Venice, and he told me +the little Natalushka had grown to be a woman. I said to him, 'Then she +will marry an Englishman.'"</p> + +<p>"And what did he say?" the girl asked, with a startled look on her face.</p> + +<p>"Oh, little, very little. If there was no possibility, why should he say +much?"</p> + +<p>"I have no sweethearts," said Natalie, simply; "but I have a friend—who +wishes to be more than a friend. And it is now, when I have to answer +him, it is now that I know what a sad thing it is to have no mother."</p> + +<p>The pathetic vibration that Brand had noticed was in her voice; her eyes +were downcast, her hands clasped. For a second or two Calabressa was +silent.</p> + +<p>"I am not idly curious, my little daughter," he said at length, and very +gently; "but if you knew how long your mother and I were friends, you +would understand the interest I feel in you, and why I came all this way +to see the little Natalushka. So, one question, dear little one. Does +your father approve?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, how can I tell?"</p> + +<p>He took her hand, and his face was grave.</p> + +<p>"Listen now," said he; "I am going to give you advice. If your mother +could speak to you, this is what she would say: Whatever +happens—whatever happens—do not thwart your father's wishes."</p> + +<p>She wished to withdraw her hand, but he still held it.</p> + +<p>"I do not understand you," she said. "Papa's wishes will always be for +my happiness; why should I think of thwarting them?"</p> + +<p>"Why, indeed? And again, why? It is my advice to you, my little +daughter, whether you think your father's wishes are for your happiness +or not—because, you know, sometimes fathers and daughters have +different ideas—do not go against his will."</p> + +<p>The hot blood mounted to Natalie's forehead—for the first time during +this interview.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 120 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span></p><p>"Are you predicting strife, signore? I owe obedience to my father, I +know it; but I am not a child. I am a woman, and have my own wishes. My +papa would not think of thwarting them."</p> + +<p>"Natalushka, you must not be angry with me."</p> + +<p>"I am not angry, signore; but you must not suppose that I am quite a +child."</p> + +<p>"Pardieu, non!" said Calabressa. "I expected to find Natalushka; I find +Natalie—ah, Heaven! that is the wonder and the sadness of it to me! I +think I am talking to your mother: these are her hands. I listen to her +voice: it seems twenty years ago. And you have a proud spirit, as she +had: again I say—do not thwart your father's wishes, Natalie—rather, +Natalushka!"</p> + +<p>He spoke with such an obvious kindness and earnestness that she could +not feel offended.</p> + +<p>"And if you want any one to help you at any time, my little +daughter—for who knows the ways of the world, and what may happen?—if +your father is sent away, and you are alone, and you want some one to do +something for you, then this is what you will say to yourself: 'There is +that old fool Calabressa, who has nothing in the world to do but smoke +cigarettes and twirl his mustache—I will send for Calabressa.' And this +I promise, little one, that Calabressa will very soon be at your feet."</p> + +<p>"I thank you signore."</p> + +<p>"It is true, I may be away on duty, as your father might be; but I have +friends at head-quarters; I have done some service. And if I were to +say, 'Calabressa wishes to be relieved from duty; it is the daughter of +Natalie Berezolyi who demands his presence,' I know the answer: +'Calabressa will proceed at once to obey the commands of the daughter of +Natalie Berezolyi.'"</p> + +<p>"But who—"</p> + +<p>"No, my little daughter, you must not ask that. I will tell you only +that they are all-powerful; that they will protect you—with Calabressa +as their agent; and before I leave this city I will give you my address, +or rather I will give you an address where you will find some one who +will guide you to me. May Heaven grant that there be no need. Why should +harm come to one who is so beautiful and so gentle?"</p> + +<p>"My mother—was she happy?" she said quickly.</p> + +<p>"Little daughter," said he, sharply, and he threw away her hand, "if you +ask me any more questions about your mother you will make my heart +bleed. Do you not understand so <!-- Page 121 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span>simple a thing as that, you who claim +to be a woman? You have been stabbing me. Come, come: <i>allons!</i>—let us +talk of something else—of your friend who wishes to be more than a +friend—you wicked little one, who have no sweetheart! And what are +those fools of English about? What? But tell me—is he one of us?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, signore," said she; and instead of showing any shamefacedness, +she turned toward him and regarded him with the fearless, soft dark +eyes. "How could you think otherwise? And he is so brave and noble: he +is not afraid of sacrificing those things that the English put such +store by—"</p> + +<p>"English?" said Calabressa.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Natalie; and now she looked down.</p> + +<p>"And what does your heart say?"</p> + +<p>She spoke very gently in reply.</p> + +<p>"Signor, I have not answered him yet; you cannot expect me to answer +you."</p> + +<p>"A la bonne heure! Little traitress, to say she has no sweethearts! +Happy Englishman! What, then, do I distress you? It is not so simple! It +is an embarrassment, this proposal that he has made to you! But I will +not trouble you further with my questions, little daughter: how can an +old jail-bird like myself understand a young linnet-thing that has +always been flying and fluttering about in happiness and the free air? +Enfin, let us go! I perceive your little maid is tired of standing and +staring; perhaps it is time for you to go back."</p> + +<p>She rose, and the three of them slowly proceeded along the gravelled +path.</p> + +<p>"Your father does not return until next week: must I wait a whole week +in this desert of a town before seeing you again, petite?"</p> + +<p>"Oh no," said Natalie, smiling; "that is not necessary. If my papa were +here now he would certainly ask you to dine with us to-night; may I do +so in his place? You will not find much amusement; but Madame +Potecki—you knew her husband, perhaps?"</p> + +<p>"Potecki the Pole, who was killed?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. She will play a little music for you. But there are so many +amusements in London, perhaps you would rather not spend your evening +with two poor solitary creatures like us."</p> + +<p>"My little daughter, to hear you speak, that is all I want; it takes +twenty years away from my life; I do not know <!-- Page 122 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span>whether to laugh or to +cry. But <i>courage</i>! we will put a good face on our little griefs. This +evening—this evening I will pretend to myself something—I am going to +live my old life over again—for an hour; I will blow a horn as soon as +I have crossed the Erlau, and they will hear it up at the big house +among the pines, where the lights are shining through the dark, and they +will send a servant down to open the gates; and you will appear at the +hall-door, and say, 'Signor Calabressa, why do you make such a noise to +awaken the dogs?' And I will say, 'Dear Miss Berezolyi, the pine-woods +are frightfully dark; may I not scare away the ghosts?"</p> + +<p>"It was my mother who received you," the girl said, in a low voice.</p> + +<p>"It was Natalie then; to-night it will be Natalushka."</p> + +<p>He spoke lightly, so as not to make these reminiscences too serious. But +the conjunction of the two names seemed suddenly to startle the girl. +She stopped, and looked him in the face.</p> + +<p>"It was you, then," she said, "who sent me the locket?"</p> + +<p>"What locket?" he said, with surprise.</p> + +<p>"The locket the lady dropped into my lap—'<i>From Natalie to +Natalushka</i>.'"</p> + +<p>"I declare to you, little daughter, I never heard of it."</p> + +<p>The girl looked bewildered.</p> + +<p>"Ah, how stupid I am!" she exclaimed. "I could not understand. But if +they always called her Natalie, and me Natalushka—"</p> + +<p>She paused for a moment to collect her thoughts.</p> + +<p>"Signor Calabressa, what does it mean?" she said, almost wildly. "If one +sends me a locket—'<i>From Natalie to Natalushka</i>'—was it my mother's? +Did she intend it for me? Did she leave it for me with some one, long +ago? How could it come into the hands of a stranger?"</p> + +<p>Calabressa himself seemed rather bewildered—almost alarmed.</p> + +<p>"My little daughter, you have no doubt guessed right," he said, +soothingly. "Your mother may have meant it for you—and—and perhaps it +was lost—and just recovered—"</p> + +<p>"Signor Calabressa," said she—and he could have fancied it was her +mother who was speaking in that low, earnest, almost sad voice—"you +said you would do me an act of friendship if I asked you. I cannot ask +my father; he seems too grieved to speak of my mother at any time; but +do you think you could find out who the lady was who brought that locket +to me? That would be kind of you, if you could do that."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><!-- Page 123 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII.</h2> + +<h3>HER ANSWER.</h3> + + +<p>Humphreys, the delegate from the North, and O'Halloran, the Irish +reporter, had been invited by George Brand to dine with him on this +evening—Humphreys having to start for Wolverhampton next day—and the +three were just sitting down when Lord Evelyn called in, uninvited, and +asked if he might have a plate placed for him. Humphreys was anxious +that their host should set out with him for the North in the morning; +but Brand would not promise. He was obviously thinking of other things. +He was at once restless, preoccupied, and silent.</p> + +<p>"I hope, my lord, you have come to put our friend here in better +spirits," said Humphreys, blushing a little as he ventured to call one +of the Brands of Darlington his friend.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter?"</p> + +<p>At this moment Waters appeared at the door with a letter in his hand. +Brand instantly rose, went forward to him and took the letter, and +retired into an adjoining room. Without looking, he know from whom it +had come.</p> + +<p>His hand was shaking as he opened the envelope; but the words that met +his eyes were calm.</p> + +<p>"My dear friend,—Your letter has given me joy and pain. Joy that you +still adhere to your noble resolve; that you have found gladness in your +life; that you will work on to the end, whatever the fruit of the work +may be. But this other thought of yours—that only distresses me; it +clouds the future with uncertainty and doubt, where there should only be +clear faith. My dear friend, I must ask you to put away that thought. +Let the <i>feu sacre</i> of the regenerator, the liberator, have full +possession of you. How I should blame myself if I were to distract you +from the aims to which you have devoted your life. I have no one to +advise me; but this I know is <i>right</i>. You will, I think, not +misunderstand me—you will not think it unmaidenly of me—if I confess +to you that I have written these words with some pain, some touch of +regret that all is not possible to you that you may desire. But for one +soul on devotion. Do I express myself clearly?—you know English is not +my native tongue. If we may not go through life together, in the sense +that you mean, we need not be far apart; and you will know, as you go +for<!-- Page 124 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span>ward in the path of a noble duty, that there is not any one who +regards you and the work you will do with a greater pride and affection +than your friend,</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">NATALIE."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>What could it all mean? he asked himself. This was not the letter of a +woman who loved another man; she would have been more explicit; she +would have given sufficient reason for her refusal. He read again, with +a beating heart, with a wild hope, that veiled and subtle expression of +regret. Was it not that she was prepared to sacrifice forever those +dreams of a secure and happy and loving life, that come naturally to a +young girl, lest they should interfere with what she regarded as the +higher duty, the more imperative devotion? In that case, it was for a +firmer nature than her own to take this matter in hand. She was but a +child; knowing nothing of the sorrows of the world, of the necessity of +protection, of the chances the years might bring. Scarcely conscious of +what he did—so eagerly was his mind engaged—he opened a drawer and +locked the letter in. Then he went hastily into the other room.</p> + +<p>"Evelyn," said he, "will you take my place, like a good fellow? I shall +be back as soon as I can. Waters will get you everything you want."</p> + +<p>"But about Wolverhampton, Mr. Brand?" shouted Humphreys after him.</p> + +<p>There was no answer; he was half-way down the stairs.</p> + +<p>When the hansom arrived in Curzon Street a hurried glance showed him +that the dining-room was lit up. She was at home, then: that was enough. +For the rest, he was not going to trouble himself with formalities when +so beautiful a prize might still be within his reach.</p> + +<p>He knocked at the door; the little Anneli appeared.</p> + +<p>"Anneli," said he, "I want to see Miss Lind for a moment—say I shall +not detain her, if there is any one with her—"</p> + +<p>"They are in the dining-room, sir; Madame Potecki, and a strange +gentleman—"</p> + +<p>"Ask your mistress to let me see her for one moment; don't you +understand?"</p> + +<p>"They are just finishing dinner, sir: if you will step up to the +drawing-room they will be there in a minute or two."</p> + +<p>But at last he got the little German maid to understand that he wished +to see Miss Lind alone for the briefest possible time; and that she was +to carry this message in an undertone to her mistress. By himself he +made his way up-stairs to the drawing-room; the lamps were lit.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 125 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span></p><p>He lifted books, photographs, and what not, with trembling fingers, and +put them down again without knowing it. He was thinking, not looking. +And he was trying to force himself into a masterful mood. She was only a +child, he kept repeating to himself—only a child, who wanted guidance, +instruction, a protecting hand. It was not her fancies, however generous +and noble, that should shape the destinies of two lives. A beautiful +child, ignorant of the world and its evil: full of dreams of impossible +and unnecessary self-sacrifice, she was not one to ordain; surely her +way in life was to be led, and cherished, and loved, trusting to the +stronger hand for guidance and safety.</p> + +<p>There was a slight rustle outside, and presently Natalie entered the +room. She was pale—perhaps she looked all the paler that she wore the +long, sweeping black dress she had worn at Lady Evelyn's. In silence she +gave him her hand; he took it in both his.</p> + +<p>"Natalie!"</p> + +<p>It was a cry of entreaty, almost of pain; for this fond vision of his of +her being only a child, to be mastered and guided, had fled the moment +he caught sight of this tall and beautiful woman, whose self-command, +despite that paleness and a certain apprehension in the dark eyes, was +far greater than his own.</p> + +<p>"Natalie, you must give me a clearer answer."</p> + +<p>He tried to read the answer in her eyes; but she lowered them as she +spoke.</p> + +<p>"Was not my answer clear?" she said, gently. "I wished not to give you +pain."</p> + +<p>"But was all your answer there?" he said quickly. "Were there no other +reasons? Natalie! don't you know that, if you regretted your decision +ever so little—if you thought twice about it—if even now you can give +me leave to hope that one day you will be my wife—there were no reasons +at all in your letter for your refusing—none at all? If you love me +even so little that you regret—"</p> + +<p>"I must not listen to you," she said hurriedly. "No, no. My answer was +best for us both. I am sorry if it pains you; but you have other things +to think of; we have our separate duties in the world—duties that are +of first importance. My dear friend," she continued, with an air of +appeal, "don't you see how I am situated? I have no one to advise +me—not even my father, though I can guess what he would say. I know +what he would say; and my heart tells me that I have done right."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 126 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span></p><p>"One word," said he. "This you must answer me frankly. Is there no +other reason for your refusal? Is your heart free to choose?"</p> + +<p>She looked up and met his eyes for a moment: only for a moment.</p> + +<p>"I understand you," she said, with some slight color mounting to the +pale clear olive of her brow. "No, there is not any reason like that."</p> + +<p>A quick, proud light leaped into his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Then," said he, "I refuse to accept your refusal. Natalie, you will be +my wife!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, do not say that—do not think of it. I have done wrong even to +listen, to let you speak—"</p> + +<p>"But what I say is true. I claim you, as surely as I now hold your +hand—"</p> + +<p>"Hush!"</p> + +<p>There were two people coming into the room; he did not care if there +were a regiment. He relinquished her hand, it is true; but there was a +proud and grateful look on his face; he did not even turn to regard the +new-comers.</p> + +<p>These were Madame Potecki and Calabressa. The little Polish lady had +misconstrued Natalie's parting words to mean that some visitors had +arrived, and that she and Calabressa were to follow when they pleased. +Now that they had appeared in the drawing-room, they could not fail to +perceive how matters stood, and, in fact, the little gentlewoman was on +the point of retiring. But Natalie was quite mistress of the situation. +She reminded Madame Potecki that she had met Mr. Brand before. She +introduced Calabressa to the stranger, saying that he was a friend of +her father's.</p> + +<p>"It is opportune—it is a felicitous circumstance," said Calabressa, in +his nasal French. "Mademoiselle, behold the truth. If I do not have a +cigarette after my food, I die—veritably I die! Now your friend, the +friend of the house, surely he will take compassion on me; and we will +have a cigarette together in some apartment."</p> + +<p>Here he touched Brand's elbow, having sidled up to him. On any other +occasion Brand would have resented the touch, the invitation, the mere +presence of this theatrical-looking albino. But he was not in a captious +mood. How could he refuse when he heard Natalie say, in her soft, low +voice,</p> + +<p>"Will you be so kind, Mr. Brand? Anneli will light up papa's little +smoking-room."</p> + +<p>Directly afterward he found himself in the small study, alone with this +odd-looking person, whom he easily recog<!-- Page 127 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span>nized as the stranger who had +been walking in the Park with Natalie in the morning. Closer inspection +rendered him less afraid of this rival.</p> + +<p>Calabressa rolled a cigarette between his fingers, and lit it.</p> + +<p>"I ask your pardon, monsieur. I ask your pardon beforehand. I am about +to be impertinent; it is necessary. If you will tell me some things, I +will tell you some things which it may be better for you to know. First, +then, I assume that you wish to marry that dear child, that beautiful +young lady up-stairs."</p> + +<p>"My good friend, you are a little bit too outrageous," said Brand.</p> + +<p>"Ah! Then I must begin. You know, perhaps, that the mother of this young +lady is alive?"</p> + +<p>"Alive!"</p> + +<p>"I perceive you do not know," said Calabressa, coolly. "I thought you +would know—I thought you would guess. A child might guess. She told me +you had seen the locket—<i>Natalie to Natalushka</i>—was not that enough?"</p> + +<p>"If Miss Lind herself did not guess that her mother was alive, how +should I?"</p> + +<p>"If you have been brought up for sixteen or eighteen years to mourn one +as dead, you do not quickly imagine that he or she is not dead: you +perceive?"</p> + +<p>"Well, it is extraordinary enough," said Brand, thoughtfully. "With such +a daughter, if she has the heart of a mother at all, how could she +remain away from her for sixteen years?"</p> + +<p>A thought struck him, and his forehead colored quickly.</p> + +<p>"There was no disgrace?"</p> + +<p>At this word Calabressa started, and the small eyes flashed fire.</p> + +<p>"I tell you, monsieur, that it is not in my presence that any one must +mention the word disgrace and also the name of Natalie Berezolyi. No; I +will answer—I myself—I will answer for the good name of Natalie +Berezolyi, by the bounty of Heaven!"</p> + +<p>He shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"You are ignorant—you made a mistake. And I—well, you perceive, +monsieur, that I am not ashamed to confess—I loved her; she was the +radiant light, the star of my life!"</p> + +<p>"La lumiere rayonnante, l'etoile de ma vie!"—the phrases sounded +ridiculous enough when uttered by this histrionic person; but even his +self-conscious gesticulation did not of<!-- Page 128 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span>fend Brand. This man, at all +events, had loved the mother of Natalie.</p> + +<p>"Then it was some very powerful motive that kept mother and daughter +apart?" said he.</p> + +<p>"Yes; I cannot explain it all to you, if I quite know it all. But every +year the mother comes with a birthday present of flowers for the child, +and watches to see her once or twice; and then away back she goes to the +retreat of her father. Ah, the devotion of that beautiful saint! If +there is a heaven at all, Natalie Berezolyi will be among the angels."</p> + +<p>"Then you have come to tell Natalie that her mother is alive. I envy +you. How grateful the girl will be to you!"</p> + +<p>"I? What, I? No, truly, I dare not. And that is why I wish to speak to +you: I thought perhaps you would guess, or find out: then I say, do not +utter a word! Why do I give you this secret? Why have I sought to speak +with you, monsieur? Well, if you will not speak, I will. Something the +little Natalushka said—to me she must always be the little Natalushka +in name, though she is so handsome a woman now—something she said to me +revealed a little secret. Then I said, 'Perhaps Natalushka will have a +happier life than Natalie has had, only her husband must be discreet.' +Now, monsieur, listen to me. What I said to Natalushka I say to you: do +not thwart her father's wishes. He is a determined man, and angry when +he is opposed."</p> + +<p>"My good sir, other people may have an ounce or two of determination +also. You mean that I must never let Natalie know that her mother is +alive, for fear of Lind? Is that what you mean? Come, then!"</p> + +<p>He strode to the door, and had his hand on the handle, when Calabressa +jumped up and caught him, and interposed.</p> + +<p>"For Heaven's sake—for Heaven's sake, monsieur, why be so +inconsiderate, so rash?"</p> + +<p>"Has the dread of this man frightened you out of your wits?"</p> + +<p>"He is invulnerable—and implacable," said Calabressa. "But he is a good +friend when he has his own way. Why not be friends? You will have to ask +him for his daughter. Consider, monsieur, that is something."</p> + +<p>"Well, there is reason in that," Brand said, reflectively. "And I am +inclined to be friendly with every one to-night, Signor Calabressa. It +may be that Lind has his reasons; and he is the natural guardian of his +daughter—at present. But she might have another guardian, Signor +Calabressa?"</p> + +<p><!-- Page 129 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></p><p>"The wicked one!—she has promised herself to you? And she told me she +had no sweethearts, the rogue!"</p> + +<p>"No, she has not promised. But what may not one dare to hope for, when +one sees her so generous and kind? She is like her mother, is she not? +Now I am going to slip away, Signor Calabressa; when you have had +another cigarette, will you go up-stairs and explain to the two ladies +that I have three friends who are now dining at my house, and I must get +back to them?"</p> + +<p>Calabressa rose, and took the taller man's hand in his.</p> + +<p>"I think our little Natalushka is right in trusting herself to you; I +think you will be kind to her; I know you will be brave enough to +protect her. All very well. But you English are so headstrong. Why not a +little caution, a little prudence, to smooth the way through life?"</p> + +<p>Brand laughed: but he had taken a liking to this odd-looking man.</p> + +<p>"Now, good-night, Signor Calabressa. You have done me a great service. +And if Natalie's mother wishes to see her daughter—well, I think the +opportunity will come. In the mean time, I will be quite cautious and +prudent, and compromise nobody; even if I cannot wholly promise to +tremble at the name of the Invulnerable and the Implacable."</p> + +<p>"Ah, monsieur," said Calabressa, with a sigh, his gay gesticulation +having quite left him, "I hope I have done no mischief. It was all for +the little Natalushka. It will be so much better for you and for her to +be on good terms with Ferdinand Lind."</p> + +<p>"We will see," Brand said, lightly. "The people in this part of the +world generally do as they're done by."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX.</h2> + +<h3>AT THE CULTURVEREIN.</h3> + + +<p>On calm reflection, Calabressa gave himself the benefit of his own +approval; and, on the whole, was rather proud of his diplomacy. He had +revealed enough, and not too much; he had given the headstrong +Englishman prudent warnings and judicious counsel; he had done what he +could for the future of the little Natalushka, who was the daughter of +Natalie Berezolyi. But there was something more.</p> + +<p>He went up-stairs.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 130 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span></p><p>"My dear little one," he said, in his queer French, "behold me—I come +alone. Your English friend sends a thousand apologies—he has to return +to his guests: is it an English custom to leave guests in such a manner? +Ah, Madame Potecki, there is a time in one's life when one does strange +things, is there not? When a farewell before strangers is +hateful—impossible; when you rather go away silently than come before +strangers and shake hands, and all the rest. What, wicked little one, +you look alarmed! Is it a secret, then? Does not madame guess anything?"</p> + +<p>"I entreat you, Signor Calabressa, not to speak in riddles," said +Natalie, hastily. "See, here is a telegram from papa. He will be back in +London on Monday next week. You can stay to see him, can you not?"'</p> + +<p>"Mademoiselle, do you not understand that I am not my own master for two +moments in succession? For this present moment I am; the next I may be +under orders. But if my freedom, my holiday, lasts—yes, I shall be glad +to see your father, and I will wait. In the mean time, I must use up my +present moment. Can you give me the address of Vincent Beratinsky?"</p> + +<p>She wrote it down for him; it was a number in Oxford Street.</p> + +<p>"Now I will add my excuses to those of the tall Englishman," said he, +rising. "Good-night, madame. Good-night, mademoiselle—truly, it is a +folly to call you the little Natalushka, who are taller than your +beautiful mother. But it was the little Natalushka I was thinking about +for many a year. Good-night, wicked little one, with your secrets!"</p> + +<p>He kissed her hand, bowed once more to the little Polish lady, and left.</p> + +<p>When, after considerable difficulty—for he was exceedingly +near-sighted—he made out the number in Oxford Street, he found another +caller just leaving. This stranger glanced at him, and instantly said, +in a low voice,</p> + +<p>"The night is dark, brother."</p> + +<p>Calabressa started; but the other gave one or two signs that reassured +him.</p> + +<p>"I knew you were in London, signore, and I recognized you; we have your +photograph in Lisle Street. My name is Reitzei—"</p> + +<p>"Ah!" Calabressa exclaimed, with a new interest, as he looked at the +pallid-faced young man.</p> + +<p>"And if you wish to see Beratinsky, I will take you to him. <!-- Page 131 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span>I find he +is at the Culturverein: I was going there myself." So Calabressa +suffered himself to be led away.</p> + +<p>At this time the Culturverein used to meet in a large hall in a narrow +lane off Oxford Street. It was an association of persons, mostly +Germans, connected in some way or other with art, music, or letters—a +merry-hearted, free-and-easy little band of people, who met every +evening to laugh and talk and joke and generally forget the world and +all its cares. The evening usually began with Bavarian beer, sonatas, +and comic lectures; then Rhine wines began to appear, and of course +these brought with them songs of love, and friendship, and patriotism; +occasionally, when the older and wiser folk had gone, sweet champagne +and a wild frolic prevailed until daylight came to drive the revellers +out. Beratinsky belonged to the Verein by reason of his having at one +time betaken himself to water-color drawing, in order to keep himself +alive.</p> + +<p>When Calabressa entered the large, long hall, the walls of which were +plentifully hung with sketches in color and cartoons in black and white, +the <i>fertig</i>!—<i>los</i>! period had not arrived. On the contrary, the +meeting was exceedingly demure, almost dull; for a German music +professor, seated at the piano on the platform, was playing one of his +own compositions, which, however beautiful, was of considerable length; +and his audience had relapsed into half-hushed conversation over their +light cigars and tall glasses of Bairisch.</p> + +<p>Beratinsky had to come along to the entrance-hall to enter the names of +his visitors in a book. He was a little man, somewhat corpulent, with +bushy black eyebrows, intensely black eyes, and black closely-cropped +beard. The head was rather handsome; the figure not.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Calabressa, you have come alive again!" he said, speaking in pretty +fair Italian. "We heard you were in London. What is it?"</p> + +<p>The last phrase was uttered in a low voice, though there was no +by-stander. But Calabressa, with a lofty gesture, replied,</p> + +<p>"My friend, we are not always on commissions. Sometimes we have a little +liberty—a little money—a notion in our head. And if one cannot exactly +travel <i>en prince</i>, <i>n'importe!</i> we have our little excursion. And if +one has one's sweetheart to see? Do you know, friend Beratinsky, that I +have been dining with Natalie—the little Natalushka, as, she used to be +called?"</p> + +<p>Beratinsky glanced quickly at him with the black, piercing eyes.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 132 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span></p><p>"Ah, the beautiful child! the beautiful child!" Calabressa exclaimed, +as if he was addressing some one not present. "The mouth sweet, +pathetic, like that in Titian's Assumption: you have seen the picture in +the Venice Academy? But she is darker than Titian's Virgin; she is of +the black, handsome Magyar breed, like her mother. You never saw her +mother, Beratinsky?"</p> + +<p>"No," said the other, rather surlily. "Come, sit down and have a cigar."</p> + +<p>"A cigarette—a cigarette and a little cognac, if you please," said +Calabressa, when the three companions had gone along to the middle of +the hall and taken their seats. "Ah, it was such a surprise to me: the +sight of her grown to be a woman, and the perfect, beautiful image of +her mother—the very voice too—I could have thought it was a dream."</p> + +<p>"Did you come here to talk of nothing but Lind's daughter?" said +Beratinsky, with scant courtesy.</p> + +<p>"Precisely," remarked Calabressa, in absolute good-humor. "But before +that a word."</p> + +<p>He glanced round this assemblage of foreign-looking persons, no doubt +guessing at the various nationalities indicated by physique and +complexion—Prussian, Pole, Rhinelander, Swiss, and what not. If the +company, in English eyes, might have looked Bohemian—that is to say, +unconventional in manner and costume—the Bohemianism, at all events, +was of a well-to-do, cheerful, good-humored character. There was a good +deal of talking besides the music.</p> + +<p>"These gentlemen," said Calabressa, in a low voice, "are they +friends—are they with us?"</p> + +<p>"Only one or two," said Beratinsky.</p> + +<p>"You do not come here to proselytize, then?"</p> + +<p>"One must amuse one's self sometimes," said the little, fat, +black-haired Pole, somewhat gruffly.</p> + +<p>"Then one must take care what one says!"</p> + +<p>"I presume that is generally the case, friend Calabressa."</p> + +<p>But Calabressa was not offended. He was interested in what was going on.</p> + +<p>"Par exemple," he said, in his airy way, "que vient faire la le drole?"</p> + +<p>The music had come to an end, and the spectacled professor had retired +amidst a thunder of applause. His successor, who had attracted +Calabressa's attention, was a gentleman who had mounted on a high easel +an immense portfolio of cartoons roughly executed in crayon; and as he +exhibited them one by one, he pointed out their character<!-- Page 133 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span>istics with a +long stick, after the manner of a showman. His demeanor was serious; his +face was grave; his tone was simple and business-like. But as he +unfolded these rude drawings, Calabressa, who understood but little +German, was more and more astonished to find the guttural laughter +around him increase and increase until the whole place resounded with +roars, while some of the old Herren held their sides in pain, as the +tears of the gigantic mirth streamed down their cheeks. Those who were +able hammered loud applause on the table before them; others rolled in +their chairs; many could only lie back and send their merriment up to +the reverberating roof in shrill shrieks and yells.</p> + +<p>"In the name of Heaven, what is it all about?" said Calabressa. "Have +the people gone mad?"</p> + +<p>"Illustrations of German proverbs," said Beratinsky, who, despite his +surly manner, was himself forced to smile.</p> + +<p>Well, Calabressa had indeed come here to talk about Lind's daughter; but +it was impossible, amidst this wild surging to and fro of Olympian +laughter. At last, however, the showman came to an end of his cartoons, +and solemnly made his bow, and amidst tumultuous cheering resumed his +place among his companions.</p> + +<p>There was a pause, given over to chatter and joking, and Calabressa +quickly embraced this opportunity.</p> + +<p>"You are a friend of the little Natalushka—of the beautiful Natalie, I +should say, perhaps?"</p> + +<p>"Lind's daughter does not choose to have many friends," said Beratinsky, +curtly.</p> + +<p>This was not promising; and, indeed, the corpulent little Pole showed +great disinclination to talk about the young lady who had so laid hold +of Calabressa's heart. But Calabressa was not to be denied, when it was +the welfare of the daughter of Natalie Berezolyi that was concerned.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, friend Beratinsky, of course she is very much alone. It is +rather a sad thing for a young girl to be so much alone."</p> + +<p>"And if she chooses to be alone?" said Beratinsky, with a sharpness that +resembled the snarl of a terrier.</p> + +<p>Perhaps it was to get rid of the topic that Beratinsky here joined in a +clamorous call for "Nageli! Nageli!" Presently a fresh-colored young +Switzer, laughing and blushing tremendously, went up to the platform and +took his seat at the piano, and struck a few noisy chords. It was a +Tyrolese song he sung, with a jodel refrain of his own invention:</p> + +<p><!-- Page 134 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0" style="margin-left: -.5em">"Hat einer ein Schatzerl,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">So bleibt er dabei,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Er nimmt sie zum Weiberl,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Und liebt sie recht treu.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Dann fangt man die Wirthschaft<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Gemeinschaftlich an,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Und <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: "leibt" in the original text"> +liebt</ins> sich, und herzt sich<br /></span> +<span class="i1">So sehr als man kann!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Great cheering followed the skilfully executed jodel. In the midst of +it, one of the members rose and said, in German,</p> + +<p>"Meine Herren! You know our good friend Nageli is going to leave us; +perhaps we shall not see him again for many years. I challenge you to +drink this toast: 'Nageli, and his quick return!' I say to him what some +of the shopkeepers in our Father-land say to their customers, 'Kommen +Sie bald wieder!'"</p> + +<p>Here there was a great shouting of "Nageli! Nageli!" until one started +the chorus, which was immediately and sonorously sung by the whole +assemblage,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0" style="margin-left: -.5em">"Hoch soll er leben!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Hoch soll er leben!<br /></span> +<span class="i7">Dreimal hoch!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<p>Another pause, chiefly devoted to the ordering of Hochheimer and the +lighting of fresh cigars. The souls of the sons of the Father-land were +beginning to warm.</p> + +<p>"Friend Beratinsky," said the anxious-hearted albino, "perhaps you know +that many years ago I knew the mother of Natalie Lind; she was a +neighbor—a companion—of mine: and I am interested in the little one. A +young girl sometimes has need of friends. Now, you are in a position—"</p> + +<p>"Friend Calabressa, you may save your breath," said the other, coldly. +"The young lady might have had my friendship if she had chosen. She did +not choose. I suppose she is old enough—and proud enough—to choose her +own friends. Yes, yes, friend Calabressa, I have heard. But we will say +nothing more: now listen to this comical fellow."</p> + +<p>Calabressa was not thinking of the young Englishman who now sat down at +the piano; a strange suspicion was beginning to fill his mind. Was it +possible, he began inwardly to ask, that Vincent Beratinsky had himself +aspired to marry the beautiful Hungarian girl?</p> + +<p>This good-looking young English fellow, with a gravity equal to that of +the sham showman, explained to his audience that he was composing an +operetta, of which he would <!-- Page 135 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span>give them a few passages. He was a skilful +pianist. He explained, as his fingers ran up and down the keys, that the +scene was in Ratcliffe Highway. A tavern: a hornpipe. Jack ashore. +Unseemly squabbles: here there were harsh discords and shrill screams. +Drunkenness: the music getting very helpless. Then the daylight +comes—the chirping of sparrows—Jack wanders out—the breath of the +morning stirs his memories—he thinks of other days. Then comes in +Jack's song, which neither Calabressa nor any one else present could say +was meant to be comic, or pathetic, or a demoniac mixture of both. The +accompaniment which the handsome young English fellow played was at once +rhythmical, and low and sad, like the wash of waves:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0" style="margin-left: -.5em">"Oh, the days were long,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">And the summers were long,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When Jane and I went courtin';<br /></span> +<span class="i3">The hills were blue beyond the sky;<br /></span> +<span class="i3">The heather was soft where we did lie;<br /></span> +<span class="i3">We kissed our fill, did Jane and I,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When Jane and I went courtin'.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0" style="margin-left: -.5em">"When Jane and I went courtin',<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Oh, the days were long,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">And the summers were long!<br /></span> +<span class="i3">We walked by night beyond the quay;<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Above, the stars; below, the sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i3">And I kissed Jane, and Jane kissed me,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When Jane and I went courtin'.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0" style="margin-left: -.5em">"But Jane she married the sodger-chap;<br /></span> +<span class="i3">An end to me and my courtin'.<br /></span> +<span class="i3">And I took ship, and here I am;<br /></span> +<span class="i3">And where I go, I care not a damn—<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Rio, Jamaica, Seringapatam—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Good-bye to Jane and the courtin'."<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<p>This second professor of gravity was abundantly cheered too when he rose +from the piano; for the music was quaint and original with a sort of +unholy, grotesque pathos running through it. Calabressa resumed:</p> + +<p>"My good Beratinsky, what is it that you have heard?"</p> + +<p>"No matter. Natalie Lind has no need of your good offices, Calabressa. +She can make friends for herself, and quickly enough, too."</p> + +<p>Calabressa's eyes were not keen, but his ears were; he detected easily +the personal rancor in the man's tone.</p> + +<p>"You are speaking of some one: the Englishman?"</p> + +<p>Beratinsky burst out laughing.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 136 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span></p><p>"Listen, Reitzei! Even my good friend Calabressa perceives. He, too, +has encountered the Englishman. Oh yes, we must all give way to him, +else he will stamp on our toes with his thick English boots. You, +Reitzei: how long is he to allow you to retain your office?"</p> + +<p>"Better for him if he does not interfere with me," said the younger man. +"I was always against the English being allowed to become officers. They +are too arrogant; they want everything under their direction. Take their +money, but keep them outside: that would have been my rule."</p> + +<p>"And this Englishman," said Beratinsky, with a smile, though there was +the light of malice in his eye, "this Englishman is not content with +wanting to have the mastery of poor devils like you and me; he also +wishes to marry the beautiful Natalie—the beautiful Natalie, who has +hitherto been as proud as the Princess Brunhilda. Now, now, friend +Calabressa, do not protest. Every one has ears, has eyes. And when papa +Lind comes home—when he finds that this Englishman has been making a +fool of him, and professing great zeal when he was only trying to steal +away the daughter—what then, friend Calabressa?"</p> + +<p>"A girl must marry," said Calabressa.</p> + +<p>"I thought she was too proud to think of such things," said the other, +scornfully. "However, I entreat you to say no more. What concern have I +with Natalie Lind? I tell you, let her make more new friends."</p> + +<p>Calabressa sat silent, his heart as heavy as lead. He had come with some +notion that he would secure one other—powerful, and in all of Lind's +secrets—on whom Natalie could rely, should any emergency occur in which +she needed help. But these jealous and envious taunts, these malignant +prophecies, only too clearly showed him in what relation <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: hyphen between names deleted from the original text"> +Vincent Beratinsky</ins> stood with regard to the daughter of +Natalie Berezolyi and the Englishman, her lover.</p> + +<p>Calabressa sat silent. When some one began to play the zither, he was +thinking not of the Culturverein in London, but of the dark pine woods +above the Erlau, and of the house there, and of Natalie Berezolyi as she +played in the evening. He would ask Natalushka if she, too, played the +zither.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><!-- Page 137 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX.</h2> + +<h3>FIDELIO.</h3> + + +<p>George Brand walked away from the house in Curzon Street in a sort of +bewilderment of hope and happiness and gratitude. He would even try to +accept Calabressa's well-meant counsel: why should he not be friends +with everybody? The world had grown very beautiful; there was to be no +more quarrelling in it, or envy, or malice.</p> + +<p>In the dark he almost ran against a ragged little child who was selling +flowers.</p> + +<p>"Will you buy a rose-bud, sir?" said she.</p> + +<p>"What?" he said, severely, "selling flowers at this time of night? Get +away home with you and get your supper, and go to bed;" but he spoiled +the effect of his sharp admonition by giving the girl all the silver he +had in his pocket.</p> + +<p>He found the little dinner-party in a most loquacious mood. O'Halloran +in especial was in full swing. The internal economy of England was to be +readjusted. The capital must be transferred to the centre of the real +wealth and brain-power of the country—that is to say, somewhere about +Leeds or Manchester. This proposition greatly pleased Humphreys, the man +from the North, who was quite willing to let the Royal Academy, the +South Kensington and National Galleries, and the British Museum remain +in London, so long as the seat of government was transferred to +Huddersfield or thereabouts. But O'Halloran drew such a harrowing +picture of the effect produced on the South of England intellect by its +notorious and intense devotion to the arts, that Humphreys was almost +convicted of cruelty.</p> + +<p>However, if these graceless people thought to humbug the hard-headed man +from the North, he succeeded on one occasion in completely silencing his +chief enemy, O'Halloran. That lover of paradox and idle speculation was +tracing the decline of superstition to the introduction of the use of +steam, and was showing how, wherever railways went in India, ghosts +disappeared; whereupon the Darlington man calmly retorted that, as far +as he could see, the railways in this country were engaged in making as +many ghosts as they could possibly disperse in India. This flank attack +completely surprised and silenced the light skirmisher, who sought +safety in lighting another cigar.</p> + +<p>More serious matters, however, were also talked about, and <!-- Page 138 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span>Humphreys +was eager that Brand should go down to Wolverhampton with him next +morning. Brand pleaded but for one day's delay. Humphreys reminded him +that certain members of the Political Committee of the Trades-union +Congress would be at Wolverhampton, and that he had promised to see +them. After that, silence.</p> + +<p>At last, as Humphreys and O'Halloran were leaving, Brand said, with an +effort,</p> + +<p>"No, it is no use, Humphreys. I <i>must</i> remain in London one more day. +You go down to-morrow; I shall come by the first train next morning. +Molyneux and the others won't be leaving for some days."</p> + +<p>"Very well, sir; good-night, sir."</p> + +<p>Brand returned into the room, and threw himself into an easy-chair; his +only companion now was his old friend Evelyn.</p> + +<p>The younger man regarded him.</p> + +<p>"I can tell the whole story, Brand; I have been reading it in your face. +You were troubled and perplexed before you got that letter. It gave some +hope. Off you went to see Natalie; you came back with something in your +manner that told me you had seen her and had been received favorably. +Now it is only one more day of happiness you hunger for, before going up +to the hard work of the North. Well, I don't wonder. But, at the same +time, you look a little too restless and anxious for a man who has just +won such a beautiful sweetheart."</p> + +<p>"I am not so lucky as that, Evelyn," said he, absently.</p> + +<p>"What, you did not see her?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, I saw her; and I hope. But of course one craves for some full +assurance when such a prize is within reach; and—and I suppose one's +nerves are a little excited, so that you imagine possibilities and +dangers—"</p> + +<p>He rose, and took a turn up and down the room.</p> + +<p>"It is the old story, Evelyn. I distrust Lind."</p> + +<p>"What has that to do with it?"</p> + +<p>"As you say, what has that to do with it? If I had Natalie's full +promise, I should care for nothing. She is a woman; she is not a school +girl, to be frightened. If I had only that, I should start off for the +North with a light heart."</p> + +<p>"Why not secure it, then?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it is scarcely fair to force myself on her at present until her +father returns. Then she will be more her own mistress. But the doubt—I +don't know when I may be back from the North—" At last he stopped +short. "Yes, I will see her to-morrow at all hazards."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 139 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span></p><p>By-and-by he began to tell his friend of the gay-hearted old albino he +had encountered at Lind's house; though in the mean time he reserved to +himself the secret of Natalie's mother being alive.</p> + +<p>"Lind must have an extraordinary faculty," he said at length, "of +inspiring fear, and of getting people to obey him."</p> + +<p>"He does not look a ferocious person," Lord Evelyn said, with a smile. +"I have always found him very courteous and pleasant—frank, amiable, +and all the rest of it."</p> + +<p>"And yet here is this man Calabressa, an old friend of his; and he talks +of Lind with a sort of mysterious awe. He is not a man whom you must +think of thwarting. He is the Invulnerable, the Implacable. The fact is, +I was inclined to laugh at my good friend Calabressa; but all the same, +it was quite apparent that the effect Lind had produced on his mind was +real enough."</p> + +<p>"Well, you know," said Lord Evelyn, "Lind has a great organization to +control, and he must be a strict disciplinarian. It is the object of his +life; everything else is of minor importance. Even you confess that you +admire his tremendous power of work."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I do. I admire his administrative capacity; it is wonderful. But I +don't believe for a moment that it was his mind that projected this big +scheme. That must have been the work of an idealist, perhaps of a dozen +of them, all adding and helping. I think he almost said as much to me +one night. His business is to keep the machinery in working order, and +he does it to perfection."</p> + +<p>"There is one thing about him: he never forgets, and he never forgives. +You remember the story of Count Verdt?"</p> + +<p>"I have cause to remember it. I thought for a moment the wretch had +committed suicide because I caught him cheating."</p> + +<p>"I have been told that Lind played with that fellow like a cat with a +mouse. Verdt got hints from time to time that his punishment as a +traitor was overtaking him; and yet he was allowed to live on in +constant fear. And it was the Camorra, and not Lind, or any of Lind's +friends, who finished him after all."</p> + +<p>"Well, that was implacable enough, to be sure; to have death dogging the +poor wretch's heels, and yet refusing to strike."</p> + +<p>"For myself, I don't pity him much," said Lord Evelyn, as he rose and +buttoned his coat. "He was a fool to think he could play such a trick +and escape the consequences. <!-- Page 140 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span>Now, Brand, how am I to hear from you +to-morrow? You know I am in a measure responsible."</p> + +<p>"However it ends, I am grateful to you, Evelyn; you may be sure of that. +I will write to you from Wolverhampton, and let you know the worst, or +the best."</p> + +<p>"The best, then: we will have no worsts."</p> + +<p>He said good-bye, and went whistling cheerfully down the narrow oak +staircase. He at least was not very apprehensive about the results of +the next day's interview.</p> + +<p>But how brief was this one day, with its rapidly passing opportunities; +and then the stern necessity for departure and absence. He spent half +the night in devising how best he could get speech of her, in a +roundabout fashion, without the dread of the interference of friends. +And at last he hit upon a plan which might not answer; but he could +think of nothing else.</p> + +<p>He went in the morning and secured a box at Covent Garden for that +evening. Then he called at Lisle Street, and got Calabressa's address. +He found Calabressa in his lodgings, shivering and miserable, for the +day was wet, misty, and cold.</p> + +<p>"You can escape from the gloom of our climate, Signor Calabressa," said +he. "What do you say to going to the opera to-night?"</p> + +<p>"Your opera?" said he, with a gesture indicative of still deeper +despair. "You forget I come from the home, the nursery of opera."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Brand, good-naturedly. "Great singers train in your country, +but they sing here: that is the difference. Do not be afraid; you will +not be disappointed. See, I have brought you a box; and if you want +companions, why not ask Miss Lind and Madame Potecki to go with you and +show you the ways of our English opera-houses?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, the little Natalushka!" said Calabressa, eagerly. "Will she go? Do +you think she will go? <i>Ma foi</i>, it is not often I have the chance of +taking such a beautiful creature to the opera, if she will go! What must +I do?"</p> + +<p>"You will have to go and beg her to be kind to you. Say you have the +box—you need not mention how: ask if she will escort you, she and +Madame Potecki. Say it is a kindness: she cannot help doing a kindness."</p> + +<p>"There you are right, monsieur: do not I see it in her eyes? can I not +hear it in her voice?"</p> + +<p>"Well, that you must do at once, before she goes out for her walk at +noon."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 141 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span></p><p>"To go out walking on a day like this?"</p> + +<p>"She will go out, nevertheless; and you must go and intercept her, and +pray her to do you this kindness."</p> + +<p>"<i>Apres?</i>"</p> + +<p>"You must come to me again, and we will get an English evening costume +for you somehow. Then, two bouquets; I will get those for you, and send +them to them to the box to await you."</p> + +<p>"But you yourself, monsieur; will you not be of the party?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you had better say nothing about me, signore; for one is so +busy nowadays. But if I come into the stalls; if I see you and the +ladies in the box, then I shall permit myself to call upon you; do you +understand?"</p> + +<p>"Parfaitement," said Calabressa, gravely. Then he laughed slightly. "Ah, +monsieur, you English are not good diplomatists. I perceive that you +wish to say more; that you are afraid to say more; that you are anxious +and a little bit demure, like a girl. What you wish is this, is it not: +if I say to Madame Potecki, 'Madame, I am a stranger; will you show me +the promenade, that I may behold the costumes of the beautiful English +ladies?' madame answers, 'Willingly.' We go to see the costumes of the +beautiful English ladies. Why should you come? You would not leave the +young lady all alone in the box?"</p> + +<p>"Calabressa," he said, frankly, "I am going away to-morrow morning: do +you understand that?"</p> + +<p>Calabressa bowed gravely.</p> + +<p>"To comprehend that is easy. Allons, let us play out the little plot for +the amusement of that rogue of a Natalushka. And if she does not thank +me—eh bien! perhaps her papa will: who knows?"</p> + +<p>Before the overture began that evening, Brand was in his seat in the +stalls; and he had scarcely sat down when he knew, rather than saw, that +certain figures were coming into the box which he had been covertly +watching. The opera was <i>Fidelio</i>—that beautiful story of a wife's +devotion and courage, and reward. As he sat and listened, he knew she +was listening too; and he could almost have believed it was her own +voice that was pleading so eloquently with the jailer to let the poor +prisoner see the light of day for a few minutes in the garden. Would not +that have been her prayer, too, in similar circumstances? Then Leonora, +disguised as a youth, is forced to assist in the digging of her own +husband's grave, Pizarro enters; the unhappy prisoners are driven back +to their <!-- Page 142 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span>cells and chains, and Leonora can only call down the vengeance +of Heaven on the head of the tyrant.</p> + +<p>At the end of the act Brand went up to the box and tapped outside. It +was opened from within, and he entered. Natalie turned to receive him; +she was a little pale, he thought; he took a seat immediately behind +her; and there was some general talk until the opening of the second act +restored silence.</p> + +<p>For him it was a strange silence, that the music outside did not +disturb. Sitting behind her, he could study the beautiful profile and +the outward curve of her dark eyelashes; he could see where here and +there a delicate curl of the raven-black hair, escaping from the mob-cap +of rose-red silk, lay about the small ear or wandered down to the +shapely white neck; he could almost, despite the music, fancy he heard +her breathe, as the black gossamer and scarlet flowers of an Indian +shawl stirred over the shining satin dress. Her fan and handkerchief +were perfumed with white-rose.</p> + +<p>And to-morrow he would be in Wolverhampton, amidst grimy streets and +dirty houses, in a leaden-hued atmosphere laden with damp and the fumes +of chimneys, practically alone, with days of monotonous work before him, +and solitary evenings to be spent in cheerless inns. What wonder if this +seemed some brief vision of paradise—the golden light and glowing +color, the soft strains of music, the scent of white-rose?</p> + +<p>Doubtless Natalie had seen this opera of Fidelio many a time before; but +she was always intently interested in music; and she had more than once +expressed in Brand's hearing her opinion of the conduct of the ladies +and gentlemen who make an opera, or a concert, or a play a mere adjunct +to their own foolish laughter and tittle-tattle. She recognized the +serious aims of a great artist; she listened with deep attention and +respect; she could talk idly elsewhere and at other times. And so there +was scarcely a word said—except of involuntary admiration—as the opera +proceeded. But in the scene where the disguised wife discovers her +husband in the prison—where, as Pizarro is about to stab him, she +flings herself between them to protect him—Brand could see that Natalie +Lind was fast losing her manner of calm and critical attention, and +yielding to a profounder emotion. When Leonora reveals herself to her +husband, and swears that she will save him, even such a juncture, from +his vindictive enemy—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0" style="margin-left: -.5em">"Si, si, mio dolce amico,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">La tua Eleonora ti salvera;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Affronto il suo furor!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><!-- Page 143 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span></p><p>the girl gave a slight convulsive sob, and her hands were involuntarily +clasped. Then, as every one knows, Leonora draws a pistol from her bosom +and confronts the tyrant; a trumpet is heard in the distance; relief is +near; and the act winds up with the joyful duet between the released +husband and the courageous wife—"<i>Destin, destin ormai felice!</i>"</p> + +<p>Here it was that Calabressa proposed he should escort Madame Potecki to +the cooler air of the large saloon; and madame, who had been young +herself, and guessed that the lovers might like to be alone for a few +minutes, instantly and graciously acquiesced. But Natalie rose also, a +little quickly, and said that Madame Potecki and herself would be glad +to have some coffee; and could that be got in the saloon?</p> + +<p>Madame Potecki and her companion led the way; but then Brand put his +hand on the arm of Natalie and detained her.</p> + +<p>"Natalie!" he said, in a low and hurried voice, "I am going away +to-morrow. I don't know when I shall see you again. Surely you will give +me some assurance—some promise, something I can repeat to myself. +Natalie, I know the value of what I am asking; you will give yourself to +me?"</p> + +<p>She stood by the half-shut door, pale, irresolute, and yet outwardly +calm. Her eyes were cast down; she held her fan firmly with both hands.</p> + +<p>"Natalie, are you afraid to answer?"</p> + +<p>Then the young Hungarian girl raised her eyes, and bravely regarded him, +though her face was still pale and apprehensive.</p> + +<p>"No," she said, in a low voice. "But how can I answer you more than +this—that if I am not to give myself to you I will give myself to no +other? I will be your wife, or the wife of no one. Dear friend, I can +say no more."</p> + +<p>"It is enough."</p> + +<p>She went quickly to the front of the box; in both bouquets there were +forget-me-nots. She hurriedly selected some, and returned and gave them +to him.</p> + +<p>"Whatever happens, you will remember that there was one who at least +wished to be worthy of your love."</p> + +<p>Then they followed their friends into the saloon, and sat down at a +small table, though Natalie's hands were trembling so that she could +scarcely undo her gloves. And George Brand said nothing; but once or +twice he looked into his wife's eyes.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><!-- Page 144 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI.</h2> + +<h3>FATHER AND DAUGHTER.</h3> + + +<p>When Ferdinand Lind told Calabressa that Natalie had grown to be a +woman, he no doubt meant what he said; but he himself had not the least +notion what the phrase implied. He could see, of course, that she had +now a woman's years, stature, self-possession; but, for all that, she +was still to him only a child—only the dark-eyed, gentle, obedient +little Natalushka, who used to be so proud when she was praised for her +music, and whose only show of resolution was when she set to work on the +grammar of a new language. Indeed, it is the commonest thing in the +world for a son, or a daughter, or a friend to grow in years without +those nearest them being aware of the fact, until some chance +circumstance, some crisis, causes a revelation, and we are astounded at +the change that time has insidiously made.</p> + +<p>Such a discovery was now about to confront Ferdinand Lind. He was to +learn not only that his daughter had left the days of her childhood +behind her, but also that the womanhood to which she had attained was of +a fine and firm character, a womanhood that rung true when tried. And +this is how the discovery was forced on him:</p> + +<p>On his arrival in London, Mr. Lind drove first to Lisle Street, to pick +up letters on his way home. Beratinsky had little news about business +matters to impart; but, instead, he began—as Lind was looking at some +of the envelopes—to drop hints about Brand. It was easy to see now, he +said, why the rich Englishman was so eager to join them, and give up his +life in that way. It was not for nothing. Mr. Lind would doubtless hear +more at home; and so forth.</p> + +<p>Mr. Lind was thinking of other things; but when he came to understand +what these innuendoes meant, he was neither angry nor impatient. He had +much toleration for human weakness, and he took it that Beratinsky was +only a little off his head with jealousy. He was aware that it had been +Beratinsky's ambition to become his son-in-law: a project that swiftly +came to an end through the perfect unanimity of father and daughter on +that point.</p> + +<p>"You are a fool, Beratinsky," he said, as he tied the bundle of letters +together. "At your time of life you should not imagine that every one's +head is full of philandering nonsense. <!-- Page 145 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span>Mr. Brand has something else to +think of; besides, he has been in the midland counties all this time."</p> + +<p>"Has he? Who, then, was taking your daughter to dinner-parties, to +theatres—I don't know what?"</p> + +<p>Lind dealt gently with this madness.</p> + +<p>"Who told you?"</p> + +<p>"I have eyes and ears."</p> + +<p>"Put them to a better use, Beratinsky."</p> + +<p>Then he left, and the hansom carried him along to Curzon Street. Natalie +herself flew to the door when she heard the cab drive up: there she was +to receive him, smiling a welcome, and so like her mother that he was +almost startled. She caught his face in her two hands and kissed him.</p> + +<p>"Ah, why did you not let me come to meet you at Liverpool?"</p> + +<p>"There were <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: "to" in the original text"> +too</ins> many with me, Natalie. I was busy. +Now get Anneli to open my portmanteau, and you can find out for yourself +all the things I have brought for you."</p> + +<p>"I do not care for them, papa; I like to have you yourself back."</p> + +<p>"I suppose you were rather dull, Natalushka, being all by yourself?"</p> + +<p>"Sometimes. But I will tell you all that has happened when you are +having breakfast."</p> + +<p>"I have had breakfast, child. Now I shall get through my letters, and +you can tell me all that has happened afterward."</p> + +<p>This was equivalent to a dismissal; so Natalie went up-stairs, leaving +her father to go into the small study, where lay another bundle of +letters for him.</p> + +<p>Almost the first that he opened was from George Brand; and to his +amazement he found, not details about progress in the North, but a +simple, straightforward, respectful demand to be permitted to claim the +hand of Natalie in marriage. He did not conceal the fact that this +proposal had already been made to Natalie herself; he ventured to hope +that it was not distasteful to her; he would also hope that her father +had no objections to urge. It was surely better that the future of a +young girl in her position should be provided for. As regarded by +himself, Mr. Lind's acquaintance with him was no doubt but recent and +comparatively slight; but if he wished any further and natural inquiry +into the character of the man to whom he was asked to intrust his +daughter, Lord Evelyn might be consulted as his closest friend. And a +speedy answer was requested.</p> + +<p>This letter was, on the whole, rather a calm and business-<!-- Page 146 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span>like +performance. Brand could appeal to Natalie, and that earnestly and +honestly enough; he felt he could not bring himself to make any such +appeal to her father. Indeed, any third person reading this letter would +have taken it to be more of the nature of a formal demand, or something +required by the conventionalities; a request the answer to which was not +of tremendous importance, seeing that the two persons most interested +had already come to an understanding.</p> + +<p>But Mr. Lind did not look at it in that light at all. He was at first +surprised; then vexed and impatient, rather than angry; then determined +to put an end to this nonsense at once. If he had deemed the matter more +serious, he would have sat down and considered it with his customary +fore thought; but he was merely irritated.</p> + +<p>"Beratinsky was not so mad as I took him to be, after all," he said to +himself. "Fortunately, the affair has not gone too far."</p> + +<p>He carried the open letter up-stairs, and found Natalie in the +drawing-room, dusting some pieces of Venetian glass.</p> + +<p>"Natalie," he said, with an abruptness that startled her, and in a tone +of anger which was just a little bit affected—"Natalie, what is the +meaning of this folly?"</p> + +<p>She turned and regarded him. He held the open letter in his hand. She +said, calmly,</p> + +<p>"I do not understand you."</p> + +<p>This only vexed him the more.</p> + +<p>"I ask you what you have been doing in my absence?" he said, angrily. +"What have you been doing to entitle any man to write me such a letter +as this? His affection! your future!—has he not something else to think +of? And you—you seem not to have been quite so dull when I was away, +after all! Well, it is time to have an end of it. Whatever nonsense may +have been going on, I hope you have both of you come to your senses. Let +me hear no more of it!"</p> + +<p>Now she saw clearly what the letter must contain—what had stirred her +father to such an unusual exhibition of wrath. She was a little pale, +but not afraid. There was no tremor in her voice as she spoke.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry, papa, you should speak to me like that. I think you forget +that I am no longer a child. I have done nothing that I am ashamed of; +and if Mr. Brand has written to you, I am willing to share the +responsibility of anything he says. You must remember, papa, that I am a +woman, and that I ought to have a voice in anything that concerns my own +happiness."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 147 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span></p><p>He looked at her almost with wonder, as if he did not quite recognize +her. Was this the gentle-natured little Natalushka, whose eyes would +fill with tears if she was scolded even in fun?—this tall, +self-possessed girl with the pale face, and the firm and even tones?</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to tell me, Natalie, that it is with your consent Brand has +written to me?" her father asked, with frowning brows.</p> + +<p>"I did not know he would write. I expected he would."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," said he, with an ironical smile, "perhaps you have taken time +by the forelock, and already promised to be his wife?"</p> + +<p>The answer was given with the same proud composure.</p> + +<p>"I have not. But I have promised, if I am not his wife, never to be the +wife of any other man."</p> + +<p>It was now that Lind began to perceive how serious this matter was. This +was no school-girl, to be frightened out of a passing fancy. He must +appeal to the reason of a woman; and the truth is, that if he had known +he had this to undertake, he would not so hastily have gone into that +drawing-room with the open letter in his hand.</p> + +<p>"Sit down Natalie," he said, quite gently. "I want to talk to you. I +spoke hastily; I was surprised and angry. Now let us see calmly how +matters stand; I dare say no great harm has been done yet."</p> + +<p>She took a seat opposite him; there was not the least sign of any +girlish breaking down, even when he spoke to her in this kind way.</p> + +<p>"I have no doubt you acted quite rightly and prudently when I was away; +and as for Mr. Brand, well, any one can see that you have grown to be a +good-looking young woman, and of course he would like to have a +good-looking young wife to show off among the country people, and to go +riding to hounds with him. Let us see what is involved in your becoming +his wife, supposing that were ever seriously to be thought of. You give +up all your old sympathies and friends, your interest in the work we +have on hand, and you get transferred to a Buckinghamshire country-house +to take the place of the old house-keeper. If you do not hear anything +of what is going on—of our struggles—of your friends all over +Europe—what of that? You will have the kitchen-garden to look after, +and poultry to feed; and your neighbors will talk to you at dinner about +foxes and dogs and horses and the clergyman's charities. It will be a +healthy life, Natalie: <!-- Page 148 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span>perhaps you will get stout and rosy, like an +English matron. But your old friends—you will have forgotten them."</p> + +<p>"Never!—never!" she said, vehemently; and, despite herself, her eyes +filled with tears.</p> + +<p>"Then we will take Mr. Brand. The Buckinghamshire house is open again. +An Englishman's house is his castle; there is a great deal of work in +superintending it, its entertainments, its dependents. Perhaps he has a +pack of foxhounds; no doubt he is a justice of the peace, and the terror +of poachers. But in the midst of all this hunting, and giving of +dinner-parties, and shooting of pheasants, do you think he has much time +or thought for the future of the millions of poor wretches all over +Europe who once claimed his care? Not much! That was in his days of +irresponsible bachelorhood. Now he is settled down—he is a country +gentleman. The world can set itself right without him. He is anxious +about the price of wheat."</p> + +<p>"Ah, how you mistake him, papa!" said she, proudly. And there was a +proud light on her face too as she rose and quickly went to a small +escritoire close by. A few seconds sufficed her to write a short note, +which she brought back to <ins class="correction" title="Printed: her father".">her father.</ins></p> + +<p>"There," said she, "I will abide by that test. If he says 'yes,' I will +never see him again—never speak one word to him again."</p> + +<p>Her father took the note and read it. It was as follows:</p> + +<p>"My Dear Friend,—I am anxious about the future for both of us. If you +will promise me, now and at once, to give up the work you are engaged +in, I will be your wife, when and where you will.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">NATALIE."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>"Send it!" she said, proudly. "I am not afraid. If he says 'yes,' I will +never see him again."</p> + +<p>The challenge was not accepted. He tore the note in two and flung it +into the grate.</p> + +<p>"It is time to put an end to this folly," he said impatiently. "I have +shown you what persistence in it would bring on yourself. You would be +estranged from everything and every one you have hitherto been +interested in; you would have to begin a new life, for which you are not +fitted; you would be the means of doing our cause an irreparable injury. +Yes, I say so frankly. The withdrawal of this man Brand, which would +certainly follow, sooner or later, on his marriage, would be a great +blow to us. We have need of his work; <!-- Page 149 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span>we have still more need of his +money. And it is you, you of all people in the world, who would be the +means of taking him away from us!"</p> + +<p>"But it is not so, papa," she said in great distress. "Surely you do not +think that I am begging to be allowed to become his wife? That is for +him to decide; I will follow his wishes as far as I can—as far as you +will allow me, papa. But this I know, that, so far from interfering with +the work he has undertaken, it would only spur him on. Should I have +thought of it otherwise? Ah, surely you know—you have said so to me +yourself—he is not one to go back."</p> + +<p>"He is an Englishman; you do not understand Englishmen," her father +said; and then he added, firmly, "You are not to be deterred by what may +happen to yourself. Well, consider what may happen to him. I tell you I +will not have this risk run. George Brand is too valuable to us. If you +or he persist in this folly, it will be necessary to provide against all +contingencies by procuring his banishment."</p> + +<p>"Banishment!" she exclaimed, with a quick and frightened look.</p> + +<p>"That may not sound much to you," said her father, calmly, "for you have +scarcely what may be called a native country. You have lived anywhere, +everywhere. It is different with an Englishman, who has his birthplace, +his family estate, his friends in England."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, papa?" said she, in a low voice. She had not been +frightened by the fancy picture he had drawn of her own future, but this +ominous threat about her lover seemed full of menace.</p> + +<p>"I say that, at all hazards," Lind continued, looking at her from under +the bushy eyebrows, "this folly must be brought to an end. It is not +expedient that a marriage between you and Mr. Brand should even be +thought of. You have both got other duties, inexorable duties. It is my +business to see that nothing comes in the way of their fulfilment. Do +you understand?"</p> + +<p>She sat dumb now, with a vague fear about the future of her lover; for +herself she had no fear.</p> + +<p>"Some one must be sent to Philadelphia, to remain there probably for his +lifetime. Do not drive me to send George Brand."</p> + +<p>"Papa!" It was a cry of appeal; but he paid no heed. This matter he was +determined to settle at once.</p> + +<p>"Understand, this idle notion must be dropped; otherwise George Brand +goes to the States forthwith, and remains <!-- Page 150 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span>there. Fortunately, I don't +suppose the matter has gone far enough to cause either of you any deep +misery. This is not what one would call a madly impassioned letter."</p> + +<p>She scarcely perceived the sneer; some great calamity had befallen her, +of which she as yet scarcely knew the extent; she sat mute and +bewildered—too bewildered to ask why all this thing should be.</p> + +<p>"That may not seem much to you," he said, in the same cold, implacable +way. "But banishment for life from his native country, his home, his +friends, is something to an Englishman. And if we are likely to lose his +work in this country through a piece of sentimental folly, we shall take +care not to lose it in America."</p> + +<p>She rose.</p> + +<p>"Is that all, papa?"</p> + +<p>She seemed too stunned to say any more.</p> + +<p>He rose also, and took her hand.</p> + +<p>"It is better to have a clear understanding, Natalie. Some might say +that I object to your marrying because you are a help to me, and your +going away would leave the house empty. Perhaps you may have some kind +friend put that notion into your head. But that is not the reason why I +speak firmly to you, why I show you you must dismiss this fancy of the +moment—if you have entertained it as well as he—as impossible. I have +larger interests at stake; I am bound to sacrifice every personal +feeling to my duty. And I have shown you what would be the certain +result of such a marriage; therefore, I say, such a marriage is not to +be thought of. Come, now, Natalie, you claim to be a woman: be a woman! +Something higher is wanted from you. What would all our friends think of +you if you were to sink into a position like that—the house-keeper of a +country squire?"</p> + +<p>She said nothing; but she went away to her own room and sat down, her +face pale, her heart like lead. And all her thought was of this possible +doom hanging over him if he persisted; and she guessed, knowing +something of him, whether he was likely to be dissuaded by a threat.</p> + +<p>Then, for a second or so, a wild despairing fancy crossed her mind, and +her fingers tightened, and the proud mouth grew firm. If it was through +her that this penalty of banishment overtook him, why should she not do +as others had done?</p> + +<p>But no—that was impossible. She had not the courage to make such an +offer. She could only sit and think; and the picture before her +imagination was that of her lover sailing <!-- Page 151 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span>away from his native land. +She saw the ship getting farther and farther away from English shores, +until it disappeared altogether in a mist of rain—and tears.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII.</h2> + +<h3>EVASIONS.</h3> + + +<p>It was in Manchester, whither he had gone to meet the famous John +Molyneux, that George Brand awoke on this dull and drizzly morning. The +hotel was almost full. He had been sent to the top floor; and now the +outlook from the window was dismal enough—some slated roofs, a red +chimney or two, and farther off the higher floors of a lofty warehouse, +in which the first signs of life were becoming visible. Early as it was, +there was a dull roar of traffic in the distance; occasionally there was +the scream of a railway whistle.</p> + +<p>Neither the morning nor the prospect was conducive to a cheerful view of +life; and perhaps that was why, when he took in his boots and found in +one of them a letter, deposited there by the chamber-maid, which he at +once saw was in Ferdinand Lind's handwriting, that he instantly assumed, +mentally, an attitude of defiance. He did not open the letter just then. +He took time to let his opposition harden. He knew there would be +something or somebody to fight. It was too much to expect that +everything should go smoothly. If there was such a thing as a law of +compensation, that beautiful dream-like evening at the opera—the light, +the color, the softened music; the scent of white-rose; the dark, soft +eyes, and the last pressure of the hand; the forget-me-nots he carried +away with him—would have to be paid for somehow. And he had always +distrusted Ferdinand Lind. His instinct assured him that this letter, +which he had been looking for and yet dreading, contained a distinct +refusal.</p> + +<p>His instinct was completely at fault. The letter was exceedingly kind +and suave. Mr. Lind might try to arouse his daughter from this idle +day-dream by sharp words and an ominous threat; he knew that it was +otherwise he must deal with Mr. George Brand.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"My dear Mr. Brand," he wrote, "as you may imagine, your letter has +surprised me not a little, and pleased me too <!-- Page 152 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span>for a father naturally is +proud to see his daughter thought well of; and your proposal is very +flattering; especially, I may add, as you have seen so little of +Natalie. You are very kind—and bold, and unlike English nature—to take +her and family on trust as it were; for are not your countrymen very +particular as to the relatives of those they would marry with? and of +Natalie's relatives and friends how many have you seen? Excuse me if I +do not quite explain myself; for writing in English is not as familiar +to me as to Natalie, who is quite an Englishwoman now. Very well; I +think it is kind of you to think so highly of my daughter as to offer +her to make her your wife, you knowing so little of her. But there you +do not mistake; she is worthy to be the wife of any one. If she ever +marries, I hope she will be as good a wife as she has been a daughter."</p> + +<p>"If she ever marries!" This phrase sounded somewhat ominous; and yet, if +he meant to say "No," why not say it at once? Brand hastily glanced over +the letter, to find something definite; but he found that would not do. +He began again, and read with deliberation. The letter had obviously +been written with care.</p> + +<p>"I have also to thank you, besides, for the very flattering proposal, +for your care to put this matter before me at an early time. Regarding +how little Natalie and you have seen each other, it is impossible that +either her or your affection can be so serious that it is not fair to +look on your proposal with some views as to expediency; and at an early +time one can easily control one's wishes. I can answer for my daughter +that she has always acted as I thought best for her happiness; and I am +sure that now, or at any time, in whatever emergency, she would far +prefer to have the decision rest with me, rather than take the +responsibility on herself."</p> + +<p>When George Brand came to this passage he read it over again; and his +comment was, "My good friend, don't be too sure of that. It is possible +that you have lived nineteen years with your daughter to very little +purpose, so far as your knowledge of her character is concerned."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, my dear sir," the letter proceeded, "all this being in such +a way, might I ask you to reflect again over your proposal, and examine +it from the view of expediency? You and I are not free agents, just to +please ourselves when we like. Perhaps I was wrong in my first objection +to your very flattering proposal; I believed you might, in marrying her, +withdraw from the work we are all engaged in; I feared this as a great +calamity—an injury done to many to gratify <!-- Page 153 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span>the fancy of one. But +Natalie, I will confess, scorned me for that doubt; and, indeed, was so +foolish as to propose a little hoax, to prove to me that, even if she +promised to marry you as a reward, she could not get you to abandon our +cause. 'No, no,' she said; 'that is not to be feared. He is not one to +go back.'"</p> + +<p>When George Brand read these words his breath came and went a little +quickly. She should not find her faith in him misplaced.</p> + +<p>"That is very well, very satisfactory, I said to her. We cannot afford +to lose you, whatever happens. To return; there are more questions of +expediency. For example, how can one tell what may be demanded of one? +Would it be wise for you to be hampered with a wife when you know not +where you may have to go? Again, would not the cares of a household +seriously interfere with your true devotion to your labors? You are so +happily placed! You are free from responsibilities: why increase them? +At present Natalie is in a natural and comfortable position; she has +grown accustomed to it; she is proud to know that she can be of +assistance to us; her life is not an unhappy one. But consider—a young +wife, separated from her husband perhaps by the Atlantic: in a new home, +with new duties; anxious, terrified with apprehensions: surely that is +not the change you would wish to see?"</p> + +<p>For a second Brand was almost frightened by this picture, and a pang of +remorse flashed through his heart. But then his common-sense reasserted +itself. Why the Atlantic? Why should they be separated? Why should she +be terrified with apprehensions?</p> + +<p>"As regards her future," her father continued, "I am not an old man; and +if anything were to happen to me, she has friends. Nor will I say to you +a word about myself, or my claim on her society and help; for parents +have not the right to sacrifice the happiness of their children to their +own convenience; it is so fortunate when they find, however, that there +is no dispositions on the part of the young to break those ties that +have been formed by the companionship of many years. It is this, my dear +friend and colleague, that makes me thank you for having spoken so +early; that I ask you to reconsider, and that I can advise my daughter, +without the fear that I am acting in a tyrannical manner or thwarting +any serious affection on her part. You will perceive I do not dictate. I +ask you to think over whether it is wise for your own happiness—whether +it would improve Natalie's probabilities of <!-- Page 154 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span>happiness—whether it would +interfere in some measure with the work you have undertaken—if you +continue to cherish this fancy, and let it grow on you. Surely it is +better, for a man to have but one purpose in life. Nevertheless, I am +open to conviction.</p> + +<p>"That reminds me that there is another matter on which I should like to +say a few words to you when there is the chance. If there is a break in +the current of your present negotiations, shall you have time to run up +to London? Only this: you will, I trust, not seek to see Natalie, or to +write to her, until we have come to an understanding. Again I thank you +for having spoken to me so early, before any mischief can have been +done. Think over what I have said, my dear friend; and remember, above +all things, where your chief duty lies.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Yours sincerely, Ferdinand Lind."</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>He read this letter over two or three times, and the more he read it the +more he was impressed with the vexatious conviction that it would be an +uncommonly difficult thing to answer it. It was so reasonable, so +sensible, so plausible. Then his old suspicions returned. Why was this +man Lind so plausible? If he objected, why did he not say so outright? +All these specious arguments: how was one to turn and twist, evading +some, meeting others; and all the time taking it for granted that the +happiness of two people's lives was to be dependent on such +logic-chopping as could be put down on a sheet of paper?</p> + +<p>Then he grew impatient. He would not answer the letter at all. Lind did +not understand. The matter had got far ahead of this clever +argumentation; he would appeal to Natalie herself; it was her "Yes" or +"No" that would be final; not any contest and balancing of words. There +were others he could recall, of more importance to him. He could almost +hear them now in the trembling, low voice: "<i>I will be your wife, or the +wife of no one. Dear friend, I can say no more.</i>" And again, when she +gave him the forget-me-nots, "<i>Whatever happens, you will remember that +there was one who at least wished to be worthy of your love.</i>" He could +remember the proud, brave look; again he felt the trembling of the hand +that timidly sought his for an instant; he could almost scent the +white-rose again, and hear the murmur of the people in the corridor. And +this was the woman, into whose eyes he had looked as if they were the +eyes of his wife, who was to be taken away from him by means of a couple +of sheets of note-paper all covered over with little specious +suggestions.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 155 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span></p><p>He thrust the letter into a pocket, and hurriedly proceeded with his +dressing, for he had a breakfast appointment. Indeed, before he was +ready, the porter came up and said that a gentleman had called for him, +and was waiting for him in the coffee-room.</p> + +<p>"Ask him what he will have for breakfast, and let him go on. I shall be +down presently."</p> + +<p>When Brand did at length go down, he found that his visitor had frankly +accepted this permission, and had before him a large plate of +corned-beef, with a goodly tankard of beer. Mr. John Molyneux, although +he was a great authority among English workmen generally, and especially +among the trades-unionists of the North, had little about him of the +appearance of the sleek-haired demagogue as that person is usually +represented to us. He was a stout, yeoman-looking man, with a frosty-red +face and short silver-white whiskers; he had keen, shrewd blue eyes, and +a hand that gave a firm grip. The fact is, that Molyneux had in early +life been a farmer, and a well-to-do-farmer. But he had got smitten with +the writings of Cobbett, and he began to write too. Then he took to +lecturing—on the land laws, on Robert Owenism, on the Church of +England, but more especially on co-operation. Finding, however, that all +this pamphleteering and lecturing was playing ducks and drakes with his +farming, and being in many respects a shrewd and sensible person, he +resolved on selling out of his farm and investing the proceeds in the +government stock of America, the country of his deepest admiration. In +the end he found that he had about one hundred and fifty pounds a year, +on which he could live very comfortably, while giving up all his time +and attention to his energetic propagandism. This was the person who now +gave Brand a hearty greeting, and then took a long draught at the +tankard of ale.</p> + +<p>"You see, Mr. Brand," said he, looking cautiously around, and then +giving a sly wink. "I thought we might have a chat by ourselves in this +corner."</p> + +<p>Brand nodded; there was no one near them.</p> + +<p>"Now I have been considering about what you told me; and last night I +called on Professor ——, of Owens College, ye know, and I had some +further talk with him. Well, sir, it's a grand scheme—splendid; and I +don't wonder you've made such progress as I hear of. And when all the +lads are going in for it, what would they say if old John Molyneux kept +out, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Why, they would say he had lost some of his old pluck; <!-- Page 156 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span>that's about +what they would say, isn't it?" said Brand; though the fact was that he +was thinking a good deal more about the letter in his pocket.</p> + +<p>"There was one point, though, Mr. Brand, that I did not put before +either Professor —— or yourself, and it is important. The point is, +dibs."</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon," said Brand, absently; he was, in truth, recalling +the various phrases and sentences in that letter of Ferdinand Lind.</p> + +<p>"Dibs, sir—dibs," said the farmer-agitator, energetically. "You know +what makes the mare go. And you know these are not the best of times; +and some of the lads will be thinking they pay enough into their own +Union. That's what I want to know, Mr. Brand, before I can advise any +one. You need money; how do you get it? What's the damage on joining, +and after?"</p> + +<p>Brand pulled himself together.</p> + +<p>"Oh, money?" said he. "That need not trouble you. We exact nothing. How +could we ask people to buy a pig in a poke? There's not a working-man in +the country but would put us down as having invented an ingenious scheme +for living on other people's earnings. It is not money we want; it is +men."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes," said Molyneux, looking rather puzzled. "But when you've got +the machine, you want oil, eh? The basis of everything, sir, is dibs: +what can ye do without it?"</p> + +<p>"We want money, certainly," Brand said. "But we do not touch a farthing +that is not volunteered. There are no compulsory subscriptions. We take +it that the more a man sees of what we are doing, and of what has to be +done, the more he will be willing to give according to his means; and so +far there has been no disappointment."</p> + +<p>"H'm!" said Molyneux, doubtfully. "I reckon you won't get much from our +chaps."</p> + +<p>"You don't know. It is wonderful what a touch of enthusiasm will do—and +emulation between the local centers. Besides, we are always having <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: "ascessions" in the original text"> +accessions</ins> of richer folk, and these are expected to make up all <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: "deficiences" in the original text"> +deficiencies</ins>."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said the other. "I see more daylight that way. Now you, Mr. Brand, +must have been a good fat prize for them, eh?"</p> + +<p>The shrewd inquiring glance that accompanied this remark set George +Brand laughing.</p> + +<p>"I see, Mr. Molyneux, you want to get at the 'dibs' of every<!-- Page 157 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span>thing. +Well, I can't enlighten you any further until you join us: you have not +said whether you will or not."</p> + +<p>"I will!" said the other, bringing his fist down on the table, though he +still spoke in a loud whisper. "I'm your man! In for a penny, in for a +pound!"</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon," said Brand, politely, "but you are in for neither, +unless you like. You may be in for a good deal of work, though. You must +bring us men, and you will be let off both the penny and the pound. Now, +could you run up with me to London to-night, and be admitted to-morrow, +and get to know something of what we are doing?"</p> + +<p>"Is it necessary?"</p> + +<p>"In your case, yes. We want to make you a person of importance."</p> + +<p>So at last Molyneux agreed, and they started for London in the evening; +the big, shrew, farmer-looking man being as pleased as a child to have +certain signs and passwords confided to him. Brand made light of these +things—and, in fact, they were only such as were used among the +outsiders; but Molyneux was keenly interested, and already pictured +himself going through Europe and holding this subtle conversation with +all the unknown companions whom chance might throw in his way.</p> + +<p>But long ere he reached London the motion of the train had sent him to +sleep; and George Brand had plenty of time to think over that letter, +and to guess at what possible intention might lie under its plausible +phrases. He had leisure to think of other things, too. The question of +money, for example—about which Molyneux had been so curious with regard +to this association—was one on which he himself was but slightly +informed, the treasury department being altogether outside his sphere. +He did not even know whether Lind had private means, or was enabled to +live as he did by the association, for its own ends. He knew that the +Society had numerous paid agents; no doubt, he himself could have +claimed a salary, had it been worth his while. But the truth is that +"dibs" concerned him very little. He had never been extravagant; he had +always lived well within his income; and his chief satisfaction in being +possessed of a liberal fortune lay in the fact that he had not to bother +his head about money. There was one worry the less in life.</p> + +<p>But then George Brand had been a good deal about the world, and had seen +something of human life, and knew very well the power the possession of +money gives. Why, this very indifference, this happy carelessness about +pecuniary de<!-- Page 158 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span>tails, was but the consequence of his having a large fund +in the background that he could draw on at will. If he did not overvalue +his fortune, on the other hand he did not undervalue it; and he was +about the last man in the world who could reasonably have been expected +to part with it.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII.</h2> + +<h3>A TALISMAN.</h3> + + +<p>Natalie Lind was busy writing at the window of the drawing-room in +Curzon Street when Calabressa entered, unannounced. He had outstripped +the little Anneli; perhaps he was afraid of being refused. He was much +excited.</p> + +<p>"Forgive me, signorina, if I startle you," he said, rapidly, in his +native tongue; "forgive me, little daughter. We go away to-night, I and +the man Kirski, whom you saved from madness: we are ordered away; it is +possible I may never see you again. Now listen."</p> + +<p>He took a seat beside her; in his hurry and eagerness he had for the +moment abandoned his airy manner.</p> + +<p>"When I came here I expected to see you a school-girl—some one in +safe-keeping—with no troubles to think of. You are a woman; you may +have trouble; and it is I, Calabressa, who would then cut off my right +hand to help you. I said I would leave you my address; I cannot. I dare +not tell any one even where I am going. What of that? Look well at this +card."</p> + +<p>He placed before her a small bit of <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: "pastebord" in the original text"> +pasteboard</ins>, with some lines marked on it.</p> + +<p>"Now we will imagine that some day you are in great trouble; you know +not what to do; and you suddenly, bethink yourself, 'Now it is +Calabressa, and the friends of Calabressa, who must help me—'"</p> + +<p>"Pardon me, signore," said Natalie, gently. "To whom should I go but to +my father, if I were in trouble? And why should one anticipate trouble? +If it were to come, perhaps one might be able to brave it."</p> + +<p>"My little daughter, you vex me. You must listen. If no trouble comes, +well! If it does, are you any the worse for knowing that there are many +on whom you can rely? Very well; look! This is the Via Roma in Naples."</p> + +<p>"I know it," said Natalie: why should she not humor the <!-- Page 159 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span>good-natured +old albino, who had been a friend of her mother's?</p> + +<p>"You go along it until you come to this little lane; it is the Vico +Carlo; you ascend the lane—here is the first turning—you go round, and +behold! the entrance to a court. The court is dark, but there is a lamp +burning all day; go farther in, there are wine-vaults. You enter the +wine-vaults, and say, 'Bartolotti.' You do not say, 'Is Signor +Bartolotti at home?' or, 'Can I see the illustrious Signor Bartolotti,' +but 'Bartolotti,' clear and short. You understand?"</p> + +<p>"You give yourself too much trouble, signore."</p> + +<p>"I hope so, little daughter. I hope you will never have to search for +these wine-vaults; but who knows? <i>Alors</i>, one comes to you, and says, +'What is your pleasure, signorina?' Then you ask, 'Where is Calabressa?' +The answer to that? It may be, 'We do not know;' or it may be, +'Calabressa is in prison again,' or it may be,'Calabressa is dead.' +Never mind. When Calabressa dies, no one will care less than Calabressa +himself."</p> + +<p>"Some one would care, signore; you have a mother."</p> + +<p>He took her hand.</p> + +<p>"And a daughter, too," he said, lightly; "if the wicked little minx +would only listen. Then you know what you must say to the man whom you +will see at the wine-vaults; you must say this, 'Brother, I come with a +message from Calabressa; it is the daughter of Natalie Berezolyi who +demands your help.' Then do you know what will happen? From the next +morning you will be under the protection of the greatest power in +Europe; a power unknown but invincible; a power that no one dares to +disobey. Ah, little one, you will find out what the friends of +Calabressa can do for you when you appeal to them!"</p> + +<p>He smiled proudly.</p> + +<p>"<i>Allons!</i> Put this card away in a secret place. Do not show it to any +one; let no one know the name I confided to you. Can you remember it, +little daughter?"</p> + +<p>"Bartolotti."</p> + +<p>"Good! Now that is one point settled; here is the next. You do not seem +to have any portrait of your mother, my little one?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, no!" she exclaimed, quickly; for she was more interested now. "I +suppose my father could not bear to be reminded of his loss: if there is +any portrait, I have not seen it; and how could I ask him?"</p> + +<p><!-- Page 160 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span></p><p>He regarded her for a moment, and then he spoke more slowly than +hitherto:</p> + +<p>"Little Natalushka, I told you I am going away; and who knows what may +happen to me? I have no money or land to leave to any one; if I had a +wife and children, the only name I could leave them would be the name of +a jailbird. If I were to leave a will behind me, it would read, 'My +heart to my beloved Italia; my curse to Austria; and my—'Ah, yes, after +all I have something to leave to the little Natalushka."</p> + +<p>He put his hand, which trembled somewhat, into the breast of his coat, +and brought out a small leather case.</p> + +<p>"I am about to give you my greatest treasure, little one; my only +treasure. I think you will value it."</p> + +<p>He opened the case and handed it to her; inside there was a miniature, +painted on ivory; it might have been a portrait of Natalie herself. For +some time the girl did not say a word, but her eyes slowly filled with +tears.</p> + +<p>"She was very beautiful signore," she murmured.</p> + +<p>"Ah little daughter," he said, cheerfully, "I am glad to see the +portrait in safe-keeping at last. Many a risk I have run with it; many a +time I have had to hide it. And you must hide it too; let no one see it +but yourself. But now you will give me one of your own in exchange, my +little one; and so the bargain is complete."</p> + +<p>She went to the small table adjoining to hunt among the photographs.</p> + +<p>"And lastly, one more point, Signorina Natalushka," said Calabressa, +with the air of one who had got through some difficult work. "You asked +me once to find out for you who was the lady from whom you received the +little silver locket. Well, you see, that is now out of my power. I am +going away. If you are still curious, you must ask some one else; but is +it not natural to suppose that the locket may have been stolen a great +many years ago, and at last the thief resolves to restore it? No matter; +it is only a locket."</p> + +<p>She returned with a few photographs for him to chose from. He picked out +two.</p> + +<p>"There is one for me; there is one for my old mother. I will say to her, +'Do you remember the young Hungarian lady who came to see you at Spezia? +Put on your spectacles now, and see whether that is not the same young +lady. Ah, good old mother; can you see no better than that?—that is not +Natalie Berezolyi at all; that is her daughter, who lives in England. +But she has not got the English way; she is not content when she herself +is comfortable; she thinks of others; <!-- Page 161 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span>she has an ear for voices afar +off.' That is what I shall say to the old mother."</p> + +<p>He put the photographs in his pocket.</p> + +<p>"In the mean time, my little daughter," said he, "now that our pressing +business is over, one may speak at leisure: and what of you, now? My +sight is not very good; but even my eyes can see that you are not +looking cheerful enough. You are troubled, Natalushka, or you would not +have forgotten to thank me for giving you the only treasure I have in +the world."</p> + +<p>The girl's pale face flushed, and she said, quickly,</p> + +<p>"There are some things that are not to be expressed in words, Signor +Calabressa. I cannot tell you what I think of your kindness to me."</p> + +<p>"Silence! do you not understand my joking? <i>Eh, bien</i>; let us understand +each other. Your father has spoken to me—a little, not much. He would +rather have an end to the love affair, <i>n'est ce pas</i>?"</p> + +<p>"There are some other things that are not to be spoken of," the girl +said, in a low voice, but somewhat proudly.</p> + +<p>"Natalushka, I will not have you answer me like that. It is not right. +If you knew all my history, perhaps you would understand why I ask you +questions—why I interfere—why you think me <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: "impertiment" in the original text"> +impertinent</ins>—"</p> + +<p>"Oh no, signore; how can I think that?"</p> + +<p>She had her mother's portrait in her hand; she was gazing into the face +that was so strangely like her own.</p> + +<p>"Then why not answer me?"</p> + +<p>She looked up with a quick, almost despairing look.</p> + +<p>"Because I try not to think about it," she said, hurriedly. "Because I +try to think only of my work. And now, Signor Calabressa, you have given +me something else to think about; something to be my companion when I am +alone; and from my heart I thank you."</p> + +<p>"But you speak as if you were in great grief, my little one. It is not +all over between you and your lover?"</p> + +<p>"How can I tell? What can I say?" she exclaimed; and for a moment her +eyes looked up with the appealing look of a child. "He does not write to +me. I may not write to him. I must not see him."</p> + +<p>"But then there may be reasons for delay and consideration, little +Natalushka; your father may have reasons. And your father did not speak +to me as if it were altogether impossible. What he said was, in effect, +'We will see—we will see.' However, let us return to the important +point: it <!-- Page 162 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span>is my advice to you—you cannot have forgotten it—that +whatever happens, whatever you may think, do not, little one, seek to go +against your father's wishes. You will promise me that?"</p> + +<p>"I have not forgotten, signore; but do you not remember my answer? I am +no longer a child. If I am to obey, I must have reasons for obeying."</p> + +<p>"What?" said he smiling. "And you know that one of our chief principles +is that obedience is a virtue in itself?"</p> + +<p>"I do not belong to your association, Signor Calabressa."</p> + +<p>"The little rebel!"</p> + +<p>"No, no, signore; do not drive me into a false position. I cannot +understand my father, who has always been so kind to me; it is better +not to speak of it: some day, when you come back, Signore Calabressa, +you will find it all a forgotten story. Some people forget so readily; +do they not?"</p> + +<p>The trace of pathetic bitterness in her speech did not escape him.</p> + +<p>"My child," said he, "you are suffering; I perceive it. But it may soon +be over, and your joy will be all the greater. If not, if the future has +trouble for you, remember what I have told you. <i>Allons donc!</i> Keep up a +brave heart; but I need not say that to the child of the Berezolyis."</p> + +<p>He rose, and at the same moment a bell was heard below.</p> + +<p>"You are not going, Signore Calabressa? That must be my father."</p> + +<p>"Your father!" he exclaimed; and he seemed confused. Then he added, +quickly, "Ah, very well. I will see him as I go down. Our business, +little one, is finished; is it not? Now repeat to me the name I +mentioned to you."</p> + +<p>"Bartolotti?"</p> + +<p>"Excellent, excellent! And you will keep the portrait from every one's +eyes but your own. Now, farewell!"</p> + +<p>He took her two hands in his.</p> + +<p>"My beautiful child," said he, in rather a trembling voice, "may Heaven +keep you as true and brave as your mother was, and send you more +happiness. I may not see England again—no, it is not likely; but in +after-years you may sometimes think of old Calabressa, and remember that +he loved you almost as he once loved another of your name."</p> + +<p>Surely she must have understood. He hurriedly kissed her on the +forehead, and said, "Adieu, little daughter!" and left. And when he had +gone she sunk into the chair again, and clasped both her hands round her +mother's portrait and burst into tears.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 163 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span></p><p>Calabressa made his way down-stairs, and, at the foot, ran against +Ferdinand Lind.</p> + +<p>"Ah, amico mio," said he, in his gay manner. "See now, we have been +bidding our adieux to the little Natalushka—the rogue, to pretend to me +she had no sweetheart! Shall we have a glass of wine, <i>mon capitaine</i>, +before we imbark?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes," said Lind, though without any great cordiality. "Come into +my little room."</p> + +<p>He led him into the small study, and presently there was wine upon the +table. Calabressa was exceedingly vivacious, and a little difficult to +follow, especially in his French. But Lind allowed him to rattle on, +until by accident he referred to some meeting that was shortly to take +place at Posilipo.</p> + +<p>"Well, now, Calabressa," said Lind, with apparent carelessness, as he +broke off a bit of biscuit and poured out a glass of wine for himself, +"I suppose you know more about the opinions of the Council now than any +one not absolutely within itself."</p> + +<p>"I am a humble servant only, friend Lind," he remarked, as he thrust his +fingers into the breast of his military-looking coat—"a humble servant +of my most noble masters. But sometimes one hears—one guesses—<i>mais a +quel propos cette question, monsieur mon camarade</i>?"</p> + +<p>Lind regarded him; and said, slowly,</p> + +<p>"You know, Calabressa, that some seventeen years ago I was on the point +of being elected a member of the Council."</p> + +<p>"I know it," said the other, with a little embarrassment.</p> + +<p>"You know why—though you do not know the right or the wrong of it—all +that became impossible."</p> + +<p>Calabressa nodded. It was delicate ground, and he was afraid to speak.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Lind, "I ask you boldly—do you not think I have done +enough in these sixteen or seventeen years to reinstate myself? Who else +has done a tithe of the work I have done?"</p> + +<p>"Friend Lind, I think that is well understood at head-quarters."</p> + +<p>"Very well, then, Calabressa, what do you think? Consider what I have +done; consider what I have now to do—what I may yet do. There is this +Zaccatelli business. I do not approve of it myself. I think it is a +mistake, as far as England is concerned. The English will not hear of +assassination, even though it is such a criminal as the <i>cardinale +<!-- Page 164 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span>affamatore</i> who is to be punished. But though I do not approve, I obey. +Some one from the English section will fulfil that duty: it is something +to be considered. Then money; think of the money I have contributed. +Without English money what would have been done? when there is any new +levy wanted, it is to England—to me—they apply first; and at the +present moment their cry for money is more urgent than ever. Very well, +then, my Calabressa; what do you think of all this?"</p> + +<p>Calabressa seemed somewhat embarrassed.</p> + +<p>"Friend Lind, I am not so far into their secrets as that. Being in +prison so long, one loses terms of familiarity with many of one's old +associates, you perceive. But your claims are undoubted, my friend; yes, +yes, undoubted."</p> + +<p>"But what do you think, Calabressa?" he said; and that affectation of +carelessness had now gone: there was an eager look in the deep-set eyes +under the bushy eyebrows. "What do you yourself think of my chance? It +ought to be no chance; it ought to be a certainty. It is my due. I claim +it as the reward of my sixteen years' work, to say nothing of what went +before."</p> + +<p>"<i>Ah, naturellement, sans doute, tu as raison, mon camarade,</i>" said the +politic Calabressa, endeavoring to get out of the difficulty with a +shrug of his shoulders. "But—but—the more one knows of the Council the +more one fears prying into its secrets. No, no; I do what I am told; for +the rest my ears are closed."</p> + +<p>"If I were on the Council, Calabressa," said Lind, slowly, "you would be +treated with more consideration. You have earned as much."</p> + +<p>"A thousand thanks, friend Lind," said the other; "but I have no more +ambitions now. The time for that is past. Let them make what they can +out of old Calabressa—a stick to beat a dog with; as long as I have my +liberty and a cigarette, I am content."</p> + +<p>"Ah, well," said Lind, resuming his careless air, "you must not imagine +I am seriously troubled because the Council have not as yet seen fit to +think of what I have done for them. I am their obedient servant, like +yourself. Some day, perhaps, I may be summoned."</p> + +<p>"<i>A la bonne heure!</i>" said Calabressa, rising. "No, no more wine. Your +port-wine here is glorious—it is a wine for the gods; but a very little +is enough for a man. So, farewell, my good friend Lind. Be kind to the +beautiful Natalushka, <!-- Page 165 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span>if that other thing that I spoke of is +impossible. If the bounty of Heaven had only given me such a daughter!"</p> + +<p>"Kirski will meet you at the station," said Lind. "Charing Cross, you +remember; eight sharp. The train is 8.25."</p> + +<p>"I will be there."</p> + +<p>They shook hands and parted; the door was shut. Then, in the street +outside, Calabressa glanced up at the drawing-room windows just for a +second.</p> + +<p>"Ah, little daughter," he said to himself as he turned away, "you do not +know the power of the talisman I have given you. But you will not use +it. You will be happy; you will marry the Englishman; you will have +little children round your knee; and you will lead so busy and glad a +life, year after year, that you will never have a minute to sit down and +think of old Calabressa, or of the stupid little map of Naples he left +with you."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV.</h2> + +<h3>AN ALTERNATIVE.</h3> + + +<p>Once again the same great city held these two. When George Brand looked +out in the morning on the broad river, and the bridges, and the hurrying +cabs and trains and steamers, he knew that this flood of dusky sunshine +was falling also on the quieter ways of Hyde Park and semi-silent +thoroughfares adjoining. They were in the same city, but they were far +apart. An invisible barrier separated them. It was not to Curzon Street +that he directed his steps when he went out into the still, close air +and the misty sunlight.</p> + +<p>It was to Lisle Street that he walked; and all the way he was persuading +himself to follow Calabressa's advice. He would betray no impatience, +however specious Lind might be. He would shut down that distrust of +Natalie's father that was continually springing up in his mind. He would +be considerate to the difficulties of his position, ready to admit the +reasonableness of his arguments, mindful of the higher duties demanded +of himself. But then—but then—he bethought him of that evening at the +theatre; he remembered what she had said; how she had looked. He was not +going to give up his beautiful, proud-natured sweetheart as a mere +matter of expediency, as the conclusion of a clever bit of argument.</p> + +<p>When he entered Mr. Lind's room he found Heinrich Reitzei its sole +occupant. Lind had not yet arrived: the pal<!-- Page 166 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span>lid-faced young man with the +<i>pince-nez</i> was in possession of his chair. And no sooner had George +Brand made his appearance than Reitzei rose, and, with a significant +smile, motioned the new-comer to take the vacant seat he had just +quitted.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" Brand said, naturally taking another chair, which +was much nearer him.</p> + +<p>"Will you not soon be occupying this seat <i>en permanence</i>?" Reitzei +said, with affected nonchalance.</p> + +<p>"Lind has abdicated, then, I presume," said Brand, coldly: this young +man's manner had never been very grateful to him.</p> + +<p>Reitzei sunk into the seat again, and twirled at his little black waxed +mustache.</p> + +<p>"Abdicated? No; not yet," he said with an air of indifference. "But if +one were to be translated to a higher sphere?—there is a vacancy in the +Council."</p> + +<p>"Then he would have to live abroad," said Brand, quickly.</p> + +<p>The younger man did not fail to observe his eagerness, and no doubt +attributed it to a wrong cause. It was no sudden hope of succeeding to +Lind's position that prompted the exclamation; it was the possibility of +Natalie being carried away from England.</p> + +<p>"He would have to live in the place called nowhere," said Reitzei, with +a calm smile. "He would have to live in the dark—in the middle of the +night—everywhere and nowhere at the same moment."</p> + +<p>Brand was on the point of asking what would then become of Natalie, but +he forbore. He changed the subject altogether.</p> + +<p>"How is that mad Russian fellow getting on—Kirski? Still working?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; at another kind of work. Calabressa has undertaken to turn his +vehemence into a proper channel—to let off the steam, as it were, in +another direction."</p> + +<p>"Calabressa?"</p> + +<p>"Kirski has become the humble disciple of Calabressa, and has gone to +Genoa with him."</p> + +<p>"What folly is this!" Brand said. "Have you admitted that maniac?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly; such force was not to be wasted."</p> + +<p>"A pretty disciple! How much Russian does Calabressa know?"</p> + +<p>"Gathorne Edwards is with them; it is some special business. Both +Calabressa and Kirski will be capital linguists before it is over."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 167 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span></p><p>"But how has Edwards got leave again from the British Museum?"</p> + +<p>Reitzei shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"I believe Lind wants to buy him over altogether. We could pay him more +than the British Museum."</p> + +<p>At this moment there was a sound outside of some one ascending the +stair, and directly afterward Mr. Lind entered the room. As he came in +Reitzei left.</p> + +<p>"How do you do, Mr. Brand?" Lind said, shaking his visitor's hand with +great warmth. "Very glad to see you looking so well; hard work does not +hurt you, clearly. I hope I have not incommoded you in asking you to run +up to London?"</p> + +<p>"Not at all," Brand said. "Molyneux came up with me last night."</p> + +<p>"Ah! You have gained him over?"</p> + +<p>"Quite."</p> + +<p>"Again I congratulate you. Well, now, since we have begun upon business, +let us continue upon business."</p> + +<p>He settled himself in his chair, as if for some serious talk. Brand +could not help being struck by the brisk, vivacious, energetic look of +this man; and on this morning he was even more than usually smartly +dressed. Was it his daughter who had put that flower in his button-hole?</p> + +<p>"I will speak frankly to you, and as clear as I can in my poor English. +You must let me say, without flattery, that we are all very indebted to +you—very proud of you; we are glad to have you with us. And now that +you see farther and farther about our work, I trust you are not +disappointed. You understand at the outset you must take so much on +trust."</p> + +<p>"I am not in the least disappointed; quite the reverse," Brand said; and +he remembered Calabressa, and spoke in as friendly a way as possible. +"Indeed, many a time I am sorry one cannot explain more fully to those +who are only inquiring. If they could only see at once all that is going +on, they would have no more doubt. And it is slow work with some of +them."</p> + +<p>"Yes, certainly; no doubt. Well, to return, if you please: it is a +satisfaction you are not disappointed; that you believe we are doing a +good work; that you go with us. Very well. You have advanced grade by +grade; you see nothing to repent of; why not take the final step?"</p> + +<p>"I don't quite understand you," he said, doubtfully.</p> + +<p>"I will explain. You have given yourself to us—your time, <!-- Page 168 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span>your labor, +your future; but the final step of self-sacrifice—is it so very +difficult? In many cases it is merely a challenge: we say, 'Show that +you can trust us even for your very livelihood. Become absolutely +dependent on us, even for your food, your drink, your clothes.' In your +case, I admit, it is something more: it is an invitation to a very +considerable self-sacrifice. All the more proof that you are not +afraid."</p> + +<p>"I do not think I am afraid," said Brand, slowly; "but—"</p> + +<p>"One moment. The affair is simple. The officers of our society—those +who govern—those from whom are chosen the members of the Council—that +Council that is more powerful than any government in Europe—those +officers, I say, are required first of all to surrender every farthing +of personal property, so that they shall become absolutely dependent on +the Society itself—"</p> + +<p>Brand looked a trifle bewildered: more than that, resentful and +indignant, as if his common-sense had received a shock.</p> + +<p>"It is a necessary condition," Lind continued, without eagerness—rather +as if he were merely enunciating a theory. "It insures absolute +equality; it is a proof of faith. And you may perceive that, as I am +alive, they do not allow one to starve."</p> + +<p>The slight smile that accompanied this remark was meant to be +reassuring. Certainly, Mr. Lind did not starve; if the society of which +he was a member enabled him to live as he did in Curzon Street, he had +little to complain of.</p> + +<p>"You mean," said George Brand, "that before I enter this highest grade, +next to the Council, I must absolutely surrender my entire fortune to +you?"</p> + +<p>"To the common fund of the Society—yes," was the reply; uttered as a +matter of course.</p> + +<p>"But there is no compulsion?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not. On this point every one is free. You may remain in your +present grade if you please."</p> + +<p>"Then I confess to you I don't see why I should change," Brand said, +frankly. "Cannot I work as well for you just as I am?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps; perhaps not," said the other, easily. "But you perceive, +further, that the fact of our not exacting subscriptions from the poorer +members of our association makes it all the more necessary that we +should have voluntary gifts from the richer. And as regards a surplus of +wealth, of what use is that to any one? Am I not granted as much money +as one need reasonably want? And just now there <!-- Page 169 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span>is more than ever a +need of money for the general purposes of the Society: Lord Evelyn gave +us a thousand pounds last week."</p> + +<p>Brand flushed red.</p> + +<p>"I wish you had told me," he said; "I would rather have given you five +thousand. You know he cannot afford it."</p> + +<p>"The greater the merit of the sacrifice," said his companion calmly.</p> + +<p>This proposal was so audacious that George Brand was still a little +bewildered; but the fact was that, while listening very respectfully to +Mr. Lind, he had been thinking more about Natalie; and it was the most +natural thing in the world that some thought of her should now +intervene.</p> + +<p>"Another thing, Mr. Lind," said he, though he was rather embarrassed. +"Even if I were to make such a sacrifice, as far as I am concerned; if I +were to run the risk for myself alone, that might all be very well; but +supposing I were to marry, do you think I should like my wife to run +such a risk—do you think I should be justified in allowing her? And +surely <i>you</i> ought not to ask <i>me</i>. It is your own +<ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: Missing quote added to the original text"> +daughter—"</ins></p> + +<p>"Excuse me, Mr. Brand," said the other, blandly but firmly. "We will +restrict ourselves to business at the present moment, if you will be so +kind. I wrote to you all that occurred to me when I had to consider your +very flattering proposal with regard to my daughter; I may now add that, +if any thought of her interfered with your decision in this matter, I +should still further regret that you had ever met."</p> + +<p>"You do not take the view a father would naturally take about the future +of his own daughter," said Brand, bluntly.</p> + +<p>Lind was not in the least moved by this taunt.</p> + +<p>"I should allow neither the interests of my daughter nor my own +interests to interfere with my sense of duty," said he. "Do you know me +so little? Do you know her so little? Ah, then you have much to learn of +her!"</p> + +<p>Lind looked at him for a second or two, and added, with a slight smile,</p> + +<p>"If you decide to say no, be sure I will not say a word of it to her. +No; I will still leave the child her hero in her imagination. For when I +said to her, 'Natalie, an Englishman will do a good deal for the good of +the people—he will give you his sympathy, his advice, his time, his +labor—but he will not put his hand in his pocket;' then she said, 'Ah, +but you do not understand Mr. Brand yet, papa; he is with us; he is not +one to go back.'"</p> + +<p><!-- Page 170 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span></p><p>"But this abandonment of one's property is so disproportionate in +different cases—"</p> + +<p>"The greater the sacrifice, the greater the merit," returned the other: +then he immediately added, "But do not imagine I am seeking to persuade +you. I place before you the condition on which you may go forward and +attain the highest rank, ultimately perhaps the greatest power, in this +organization. Ah, you do not understand what that is as yet. If you +knew, you would not hesitate very long, I think."</p> + +<p>"But—but suppose I have no great ambition," Brand remonstrated. +"Suppose I am quite content to go on doing what I can in my present +sphere?"</p> + +<p>"You have already sworn to do your utmost in every direction. On this +one point of money, however, the various Councils have never departed +from the principle that there must be no compulsion. On any other point +the Council orders; you obey. On this point the voluntary sacrifice has, +as I say, all the more merit; and it is not forgotten. For what are you +doing? You are yielding up a superabundance that you cannot use, so that +thousands and thousands of the poor throughout the world may not be +called on to contribute their pence. You are giving the final proof of +your devotion. You are taking the vow of poverty and dependence, which +many of the noblest brotherhoods the world has seen have exacted from +their members at the very outset; but in your case with the difference +that you can absolutely trust to the resources of an immense +association—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, as far as I am concerned," Brand said, quickly. "But I ask you +whether I should be justified in throwing away this power to protect +others. May I appeal to Natalie herself? May I ask her?"</p> + +<p>"I am afraid, Mr. Brand," said the other, with the same mild firmness, +"I must request you in the meantime to leave Natalie out of +consideration altogether. This is a question of duty, of principle; it +must regulate our future relations with each other; pray let it stand by +itself."</p> + +<p>Brand sat silent for a time. There were many things to think over. He +recalled, for example, though vaguely, a conversation he had once had +with Lord Evelyn, in which this very question of money was discussed, +and in which he had said that he would above all things make sure he was +not being duped. Moreover, he had intended that his property, in the +event of his dying unmarried, should go to his nephews. But it was not +his sister's boys who were now uppermost in his mind.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 171 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span></p><p>He rose.</p> + +<p>"You cannot expect me to give you a definite answer at once," he said, +almost absently.</p> + +<p>"No; before you go, let me add this," said the other, regarding his +companion with a watchful look: "the Council are not only in urgent need +of liberal funds just now, but also, in several directions, of diligent +and exceptional service. The money contribution which they demand from +England I shall be able to meet somehow, no doubt; hitherto I have not +failed them. The claim for service shall not find us wanting, either, I +hope; and it has been represented to me that perhaps you ought to be +transferred to Philadelphia, where there is much to be done at the +present moment."</p> + +<p>This suggestion effectually awoke Brand from his day-dream.</p> + +<p>"Philadelphia!" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the other, speaking very slowly, as if anxious that every +word should have weight. "My visit, short as it was, enabled me to see +how well one might employ one's whole lifetime there—with such results +as would astonish our good friends at head-quarters, I am sure of that. +True, the parting from one's country might be a little painful at first; +but that is not the greatest of the sacrifices that one should be +prepared to submit to. However," he added, rather more lightly, "this is +still to be decided on; meanwhile I hope, and I am sure you hope too, +Mr. Brand, that I shall be able to satisfy the Council that the English +section does not draw back when called on for its services."</p> + +<p>"No doubt—no doubt," Brand said; but the pointed way in which his +companion had spoken did not escape him, and promised to afford him +still further food for reflection.</p> + +<p>But if this was a threat, he would show no fear.</p> + +<p>"Molyneux wishes to get back North as soon as possible," he said, in a +matter-of-fact way, just as if talking of commonplace affairs the whole +time. "I suppose his initiation could take place to-morrow night?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly," said Mr. Lind, following his visitor to the door. "And you +must certainly allow me to thank you once more, my dear Mr. Brand, for +your service in securing to us such an ally. I should like to have +talked with you about your experiences in the North; but you agree with +me that the suggestion I have made demands your serious consideration +first—is it not so?"</p> + +<p>Brand nodded.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 172 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span></p><p>"I will let you know to-morrow," said he. "Good-morning!"</p> + +<p>"Good-morning!" said Mr. Lind, pleasantly; and then the door was shut.</p> + +<p>He was attended down-stairs by the stout old German, who, on reaching +the front-door, drew forth a letter from his pocket and handed it to him +with much pretence of mystery. He was thinking of other things, to tell +the truth; and as he walked along he regarded the outside of the +envelope with but little curiosity. It was addressed, "<i>All' Egregio +Sigmore, Il Signor G. Brand.</i>"</p> + +<p>"No doubt a begging letter from some Leicester Square fellow," he +thought.</p> + +<p>Presently, however, he opened the letter, and read the following +message, which was also in Italian:</p> + +<p>"The beautiful caged little bird sighs and weeps, because she thinks she +is forgotten. A word of remembrance would be kind, if her friend is +discreet and secret. Above all, no open strife. This from one who +departs. Farewell!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV.</h2> + +<h3>A FRIEND'S ADVICE.</h3> + + +<p>This must be said for George Brand, that while he was hard and +unsympathetic in the presence of those whom he disliked or distrusted, +in the society of those whom he did like and did trust he was docile and +acquiescent as a child, easily led and easily persuaded. When he went +from Lind's chamber, which had been to him full of an atmosphere of +impatience and antagonism, to Lord Evelyn's study, and found his friend +sitting reading there, his whole attitude changed; and his first duty +was to utter a series of remonstrances about the thousand pounds.</p> + +<p>"You can't afford it, Evelyn. Why didn't you come to me? I would have +given it to you a dozen times over rather than you should have paid it."</p> + +<p>"No doubt you would," said the pale lad. "That is why I did not come to +you."</p> + +<p>"I wish you could get it back."</p> + +<p>"I would not take it back. It is little enough I can do; why not let me +give such help as I can? If only those girls would begin to marry off, I +might do more. But there is such a band of them that men are afraid to +come near them."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 173 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span></p><p>"I think it would be a pity to spoil the group," said Brand. "The +country should subscribe to keep them as they are—the perfect picture +of an English family. However, to return: you must promise me not to +commit any of these extravagances again. If any appeal is made to you, +come to me."</p> + +<p>But here a thought seemed to strike him;</p> + +<p>"Ah," he said, "I have something to tell you. Lind is trying to get me +to enter the same grade of officership with himself. And do you know +what the first qualification is?—that you give up every penny you +possess in the world."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"Well!"</p> + +<p>The two friends stared at each other—the one calmly inquisitive, the +other astounded.</p> + +<p>"I thought you would have burst out laughing!" Brand exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Why?" said the other. "You have already done more for them—for +us—than that: why should you not do all in your power? Why should you +not do all that you can, and while you can? Look!"</p> + +<p>They were standing at the window. On the other side of the street far +below them were some funeral carriages; at this precise moment the +coffin was being carried across the pavement.</p> + +<p>"That is the end of it. I say, why shouldn't you do all that you can, +and while you can?"</p> + +<p>"Do you want reasons? Well, one has occurred to me since I came into +this room. A minute ago I said to you that you must not repeat that +extravagance; and I said if you were appealed to again you could come to +me. But what if I had already surrendered every penny in the world? I +wish to retain in my own hands at least the power to help my friends."</p> + +<p>"That is only another form of selfishness," said Lord Evelyn, laughing. +"I fear you are as yet of weak faith, Brand."</p> + +<p>He turned from the light, and went and sunk into the shadow of a great +arm-chair.</p> + +<p>"Now I know what you are going to do, Evelyn," said his +<ins class="correction" title="Printed: friend. You">friend. "You</ins> are +going to talk me out of my common-sense; and I will not have it. I want +to show you why it is impossible I should agree to this demand."</p> + +<p>"If you feel it to be impossible, it is impossible."</p> + +<p>"My dear fellow, is it reasonable?"</p> + +<p>"I dislike things that are reasonable."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 174 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span></p><p>"There is but one way of getting at you. Have you thought of Natalie?"</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said the other, quickly raising himself into an expectant +attitude.</p> + +<p>"You will listen now, I suppose, to reason, to common-sense. Do you +think it likely that, with the possibility of her becoming my wife, I am +going to throw away this certainty and leave her to all chances of the +world? Lind says that the Society amply provides for its officers. Very +well; that is quite probable. I tell him that I am not afraid for +myself; if I had to think of myself alone, there is no saying what I +might not do, even if I were to laugh at myself for doing it. But how +about Natalie? Lind might die. I might be sent away to the ends of the +earth. Do you think I am going to leave her at the mercy of a lot of +people whom she never saw?"</p> + +<p>Lord Evelyn was silent.</p> + +<p>"Besides, there is more than that," his friend continued, warmly. "You +may call it selfishness, if you like, but if you love a woman and she +gives her life into your hands—well, she has the first claim on you. I +will put it to you: do you think I am going to sell the +Beeches—when—when she might live there?"</p> + +<p>Lord Evelyn did not answer.</p> + +<p>"Of course I am willing to subscribe largely," his friend continued; +"and Natalie herself would say yes to that. But I am not ambitious. I +don't want to enter that grade. I don't want to sit in Lind's chair when +he gets elected to the Council, as has been suggested to me. I am not +qualified for it; I don't care about it; I can best do my own work in my +own way."</p> + +<p>At last Lord Evelyn spoke; but it was in a meditative fashion, and not +very much to the point. He lay back in his easy-chair, his hands clasped +behind his head, and talked; and his talk was not at all about the +selling of Hill Beeches in Buckinghamshire, but of much more abstract +matters. He spoke of the divine wrath of the reformer—what a curious +thing it was, that fiery impatience with what was wrong in the world; +how it cropped up here and there from time to time; and how one abuse +after another had been burnt up by it and swept away forever. Give the +man possessed of this holy rage all the beauty and wealth and ease in +the world, and he is not satisfied; there is something within him that +vibrates to the call of humanity without; others can pass by what does +not affect themselves with a laugh or a shrug of indifference; he only +must stay and labor till the wrong thing is put right. <!-- Page 175 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span>And how often +had he been jeered at by the vulgar of his time; how Common-Sense had +pointed the finger of scorn at him; how Respectability had called him +crazed! John Brown at Harper's Ferry is only a ridiculous old fool; his +effort is absurd; even gentlemen in the North feel an "intellectual +satisfaction" that he is hanged, because of his "preposterous +miscalculation of possibilities." Yes, no doubt; you hang him, and there +is an end; but "his soul goes marching on," and the slaves are freed! +You want to abolish the Corn-laws?—all good society shrieks at you at +first: you are a Radical, a regicide, a Judas Iscariot; but in time the +nation listens, and the poor have cheap bread. "Mazzini is mad!" the +world cries: "why this useless bloodshed? It is only political murder." +Mazzini is mad, no doubt: but in time the beautiful dream of Italy—of +"Italia, the world's wonder, the world's care"—comes true. And what +matter to the reformer, the agitator, the dreamer, though you stone him +to death, or throw him to the lions, or clap him into a +nineteenth-century prison and shut his mouth that way? He has handed on +the sacred fire. Others will bear the torch; and he who is unencumbered +will outstrip his fellows. The wrong must be put right.</p> + +<p>And so forth, and so forth. Brand sat and listened, recognizing here and +there a proud, pathetic phrase of Natalie's, and knowing well whence the +inspiration came; and as he listened he almost felt as though that +beautiful old place in Buckinghamshire was slipping through his fingers. +The sacrifice seemed to be becoming less and less of a sacrifice; it +took more and more the form of a duty; would Natalie's eyes smile +approval?</p> + +<p>Brand jumped up, and took a rapid turn or two up and down the room.</p> + +<p>"I won't listen to you, Evelyn. You don't know anything about +money-matters. You care for nothing but ideas. Now, I come of a +commercial stock, and I want to know what guarantee I have that this +money, if I were to give it up, would be properly applied. Lind's +assurances are all very well—"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, of course; you have got back to Lind," said Lord Evelyn, waking +up from his +<ins class="correction" title="Printed: reveries. Do">reveries. "Do</ins> you know, my dear fellow, that your distrust of +Lind is rapidly developing into a sharp and profound hatred?"</p> + +<p>"I take men as I find them. Perhaps you can explain to me how Lind +should care so little for the future of his daughter as to propose—with +the possibility of our marrying—that she should be left penniless?"</p> + +<p><!-- Page 176 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span></p><p>"I can explain it to myself, but not to you; you are too thorough an +Englishman."</p> + +<p>"Are you a foreigner?"</p> + +<p>"I try to understand those who are not English. Now, an Englishman's +theory is that he himself, and his wife and children—his domestic +circle, in fact—are the centre of creation; and that the fate of +empires, as he finds that going one way or the other in the telegrams of +the morning paper, is a very small matter compared with the necessity of +Tom's going to Eton, or Dick's marrying and settling down as the bailiff +of the Worcestershire farm. That is all very well; but other people may +be of a different habit of mind. Lind's heart and soul are in his +present work; he would sacrifice himself, his daughter, you, or anybody +else to it, and consider himself amply justified. He does not care about +money, or horses, or the luxury of a big establishment; I suppose he has +had to live on simple fare many a time, whether he liked it or not, and +can put up with whatever happens. If you imagine that you may be cheated +by a portion of your money—supposing you were to adopt his +proposal—going into his pocket as commission, you do him a wrong."</p> + +<p>"No, I don't think that," Brand said, rather unwillingly. "I don't take +him to be a common and vulgar swindler. And I can very well believe that +he does not care very much for money or luxury or that kind of thing, so +far as he himself is concerned. Still, you would think that the ordinary +instinct of a father would prevent his doing an injury to the future of +his daughter—"</p> + +<p>"Would he consider it an injury. Would she?"'</p> + +<p>"<ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: Missing quote added to the original text"> +Well,"</ins> Brand said, "she is very +enthusiastic, and noble, and generous, and does not know what dependence +or poverty means. But he is a man of the world, and you would think he +would look after his own kith and kin."</p> + +<p>"Yes, that is a wholesome conservative English sentiment, but it does +not rule the actions of everybody."</p> + +<p>"But common sense—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, bother common sense! Common-sense is only a grocer that hasn't got +an idea beyond ham-and-eggs."</p> + +<p>"Well, if I am only a grocer," Brand said, quite submissively, "don't +you think the grocer, if he were asked to pay off the National Debt, +ought to say, 'Gentlemen, that is a praiseworthy object; but in the +meantime wouldn't it be advisable for me to make sure that my wife +mayn't have to go on the parish?"</p> + +<p><!-- Page 177 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p><p>Thereafter there was silence for a time, and when Brand next spoke it +was in a certain, precise, hard fashion, as if he wished to make his +meaning very clear.</p> + +<p>"Suppose, Evelyn," he said, "I were to tell you what has occurred to me +as the probable explanation of Lind's indifference about the future of +his daughter, would you be surprised?"</p> + +<p>"I expect it will be wrong, for you cannot do justice to that man; but I +should like to hear it."</p> + +<p>"I must tell you he wrote me a letter, a shilly-shallying sort of +letter, filled with arguments to prove that a marriage between Natalie +and myself would not be expedient, and all the rest of it: not +absolutely refusing his consent, you understand, but postponing the +matter, and hoping that on further reflection, et cætera, et cætera. +Well, do you know what my conclusion is?—that he is definitely resolved +I shall not marry his daughter; and that he is playing with me, +humbugging me with the possibility of marrying her, until he induces me +to hand him over my fortune for the use of the Society. Stare away as +you like; that is what I believe to be true."</p> + +<p>He rose and walked to the window, and looked out.</p> + +<p>"Well, Evelyn, whatever happens, I have to thank you for many things. It +has been all like my boyhood come back again, but much more wonderful +and beautiful. If I have to go to America, I shall take with me at least +the memory of one night at Covent Garden. She was there—and Madame +Potecki—and old Calabressa. It was <i>Fidelio</i> they were playing. She +gave me some forget-me-nots."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by going to America?" Lord Evelyn said.</p> + +<p>Brand remained at the window for a minute or two, silent, and then he +returned to his chair.</p> + +<p>"You will say I am unjust again. But unless I am incapable of +understanding English—such English as he speaks—this is his ultimatum: +that unless I give my property, every cent of it, over to the Society, I +am to go to America. It is a distinct and positive threat."</p> + +<p>"How can you say so!" the other remonstrated. "He has just been to +America himself, without any compulsion whatever."</p> + +<p>"He has been to America for a certain number of weeks. I am to go for +life—and, as he imagines, alone."</p> + +<p>His face had been growing darker and darker, the brows lowering +ominously over the eyes.</p> + +<p>"Now, Brand," his friend said, "you are letting your dis<!-- Page 178 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span>trust of this +man Lind become a madness. What if he were to say to-morrow that you +might marry Natalie the day after?"</p> + +<p>The other looked up almost bewildered.</p> + +<p>"I would say he was serving some purpose of his own. But he will not say +that. He means to keep his daughter to himself, and he means to have my +money."</p> + +<p>"Why, you admitted, a minute ago, that even you could not suspect him of +that!"</p> + +<p>"Not for himself—no. Probably he does not care for money. But he cares +for ambition—for power; and there is a vacancy in the Council. Don't +you see? This would be a tremendous large sum in the eyes of a lot of +foreigners: they would be grateful, would they not? And Natalie once +transferred to Italy, I could console myself with the honor and dignity +of Lind's chair in Lisle Street. Don't you perceive?"</p> + +<p>"I perceive this—that you misjudge Lind altogether. I am sure of it. I +have seen it from the beginning—from the moment you set your foot in +his house. And you tried to blind yourself to the fact because of +Natalie. Now that you imagine that he means to take Natalie from you, +all your pent-up antagonism breaks loose. Meanwhile, what does Natalie +herself say?"</p> + +<p>"What does she say?" he repeated, mechanically. He also was lying back +in his chair, his eyes gazing aimlessly at the window. But whenever +anyone spoke of Natalie, or whenever he himself had to speak of her, a +quite new expression came into his face; the brows lifted, the eyes were +gentle. "What does she say? Why, nothing. Lind requested me neither to +see her nor write to her; and I thought that reasonable until I should +have heard what he had to say to me. There is a message I got half an +hour ago—not from her."</p> + +<p>He handed to Lord Evelyn the anonymous scroll that he had received from +the old German.</p> + +<p>"Poor old Calabressa!" he said. "Those Italians are always very fond of +little mysteries. But how he must have loved that woman?"</p> + +<p>"Natalie's mother?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the other, absently. "I wonder he has never gone to see his +sweetheart of former years."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>Brand started. It was not necessary that Lord Evelyn should in the mean +time be intrusted with that secret.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 179 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span></p><p>"He told me that when he saw Natalie it was to him like a vision from +the dead; she was so like her mother. But I must be off, Evelyn; I have +to meet Molyneux at two. So that is your advice," he said, as he went to +the door—"that I should comply with Lind's demand; or—to put it +another way—succumb to his threat?"</p> + +<p>"It is not my advice at all—quite the contrary. I say, if you have any +doubt or distrust—if you cannot make the sacrifice without perfect +faith and satisfaction to yourself—do not think of it."</p> + +<p>"And go to America?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot believe that any such compulsory alternative exists. But about +Natalie, surely you will send her a message; Lind cannot object to +that?"</p> + +<p>"I will send her no message; I will go to her," the other said, firmly. +"I believe Lind wishes me not to see her. Within the duties demanded of +me by the Society, his wishes are to me commands; elsewhere and +otherwise neither his wishes nor his commands do I value more than a +lucifer-match. Is that plain enough, Evelyn?"</p> + +<p>And so he went away, forgetting all the sage counsel Calabressa had +given him; thinking rather of the kindly, thoughtful, mysterious little +message the old man had left behind him, and of the beautiful caged bird +that sighed and wept because she thought she was forgotten. She should +not think that long!</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI.</h2> + +<h3>A PROMISE.</h3> + + +<p>This was a dark time indeed for Natalie Lind—left entirely by herself, +ignorant of what was happening around her, and haunted by vague alarms. +But the girl was too proud to show to any one how much she suffered. On +the contrary, she reasoned and remonstrated with herself; and forced +herself to assume an attitude of something more than resignation, of +resolution. If it was necessary that her father should be obeyed, that +her lover should maintain this cruel silence, even that he and she +should have the wide Atlantic separate them forever, she would not +repine. It was not for her who had so often appealed to others to shrink +from sacrifice herself. And if this strange new hope that had filled her +heart for a time had to be finally abandoned, what <!-- Page 180 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span>of that? What +mattered a single life? She had the larger hope; there was another and +greater future for her to think about; and she could cherish the thought +that she at least had done nothing to imperil or diminish the work to +which so many of her friends had given their lives.</p> + +<p>But silence is hard to bear. Ever since the scene with her father, a +certain undeclared estrangement had prevailed between these two; and no +reference whatsoever had been made to George Brand. Her lover had sent +her no message—no word of encouragement, of assurance, or sympathy. +Even Calabressa had gone. There remained to her only the portrait that +Calabressa had given her; and in the solitude of her own room many a +time she sat and gazed at the beautiful face with some dim, wondering +belief that she was looking at her other self, and that she could read +in the features some portion of her own experiences, her own joys and +sorrows. For surely those soft, dark, liquid eyes must have loved and +been beloved? And had they too filled with gladness when a certain step +had been heard coming near? and they looked up with trust and pride and +tenderness, and filled with tears again in absence, when only the memory +of loving words remained? She recalled many a time what Calabressa had +said to her—"My child, may Heaven keep you as true and brave as your +mother was, and send you more happiness." Her mother, then, had not been +happy? But she was brave, Calabressa had said: when she loved a man, +would she not show herself worthy of her love?</p> + +<p>This was all very well; but in spite of her reasoning and her forced +courage, and her self-possession in the presence of others, Natalie had +got into the habit of crying in the quietude of her own room, to the +great distress of the little Anneli, who had surprised her once or +twice. And the rosy-cheeked German maid guessed pretty accurately what +had happened; and wondered very much at the conduct of English lovers, +who allowed their sweethearts to pine and fret in solitude without +sending them letters or coming to see them. But on this particular +afternoon Anneli opened the door, in answer to a summons, and found +outside a club commissionaire whom she had seen once or twice before; +and when he gave her a letter, addressed in a handwriting which she +recognized, and ask for an answer, she was as much agitated as if it had +come from her own sweetheart in Gorlitz. She snatched it from the man, +as if she feared he would take it back. She flew with it up-stairs, +breathless. She forgot to knock at the door.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 181 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p><p>"Oh, Fraulein, it is a letter!" said she, in great excitement, "and +there is to be an answer—"</p> + +<p>Then she hesitated. But the good-sense of the child told her she ought +to go.</p> + +<p>"I will wait outside, Fraulein. Will you ring when you have written the +answer?"</p> + +<p>When Natalie opened the letter she was outwardly quite calm—a little +pale, perhaps; but as she read it her heart beat fast. And it was her +heart that instantly dictated the answer to this brief and simple +appeal:</p> + +<p>"My Natalie,—It is your father's wish that I should not see you. Is it +your wish also? There is something I would like to say to you."</p> + +<p>It was her heart that answered. She rose directly. She never thought +twice, or even once, about any wish, or menace, or possible consequence. +She went straight to her desk, and with a shaking hand wrote these +lines:</p> + +<p>"My Own,—Come to me now, at any time—when you please. Am I not yours?</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Natalie."</span><br /> +</p> + + +<p>Despite herself, she had to pause, to steady her hand—and because her +heart was beating so fast that she felt choked—before she could +properly address the envelope. Then she carried the letter to Anneli, +who she knew was waiting outside. That done, she shut herself in again, +to give herself time to think, though in truth she could scarcely think +at all. For all sorts of emotions were struggling for the mastery of +her—joy and a proud resolve distinctly predominant. It was done, and +she would abide by it. She was not given to fear.</p> + +<p>But she tried hard to think. At last her lover was coming to her; he +would ask her what she was prepared to do: what would she answer?</p> + +<p>Then, again, the joy of the thought that she was about to see him drove +every other consideration out of her mind. How soon might he be here? +Hurriedly she went to a jar of flowers on the table, chose some scarlet +geraniums, and turned to a mirror. Her haste did not avail much, for her +fingers were still trembling: but that was the color he had said, on one +occasion, suited her best. She had not been wearing flowers in her hair +of late.</p> + +<p>From time to time, for a second or so, some thought of her father +intervened. But then her father had only enjoined her to dismiss forever +the hope of her marrying the man to <!-- Page 182 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span>whom she had given her heart and +her life: that could not prevent her loving him, and seeing him, and +telling him that her love was his. She wished the geraniums were less +rose-red and more scarlet in hue. It was the scarlet he had approved +of—that evening that he and she the little Polish lady had dined +together.</p> + +<p>She had not long to wait. With a quick, intense consciousness she heard +the hansom drive up, and the rapid knock that followed; her heart +throbbed through the seconds of silence; then she knew that he was +ascending the stair; then it seemed to her as if the life would go out +of her altogether. But when he flung the door open and came toward her; +when he caught her two hands in his—one hand in each hand—and held +them tight; when, in a silence that neither cared to break, he gazed +into her rapidly moistening eyes—then the full tide of joy and courage +returned to her heart, and she was proud that she had sent him that +answer. For some seconds—to be remembered during a life time—they +regarded each other in silence; then he released her hands, and began to +put back the hair from her forehead as if he would see more clearly into +the troubled deeps of her eyes; and then, somehow—perhaps to hide her +crying—she buried her face in his breast, and his arms were around her, +and she was sobbing out all the story of her waiting and her despair.</p> + +<p>"What!" said he, cheerfully, to calm and reassure her, "the brave +Natalie to be frightened like that!"</p> + +<p>"I was alone," she murmured. "I had no one to speak to; and I could not +understand. Oh, my love, my love, you do not know what you are to me!"</p> + +<p>He kissed her; her cheeks were wet.</p> + +<p>"Natalie," said he in a low voice, "don't forget this: we may be +separated—that is possible—I don't know; but if we live fifty years +apart from each other—if you never hear one word more from me or of +me—be sure of this, that I am thinking of you always, and loving you, +as I do at this moment when my arms are around you. Will you remember +that? Will you believe that—always?"</p> + +<p>"I could not think otherwise," she answered. "But now that you are with +me—that I can hear you speak to me—" And at this point her voice +failed her altogether; and he could only draw her closer to him, and +soothe and caress her, and stroke the raven-black hair that had never +before thrilled his fingers with its soft, strange touch.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," she said at last, in a broken and hesitating voice, "you will +blame me for having said what I have said. <!-- Page 183 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span>I have had no +girl-companions; scarcely any woman to tell me what I should do and say. +But—but I thought you were going to America—I thought I should never +see you again—I was lonely and miserable; and when I saw you again, how +could I help saying I was glad? How could I help saying that, and +more?—for I never knew it till now. Oh, my love, do you know that you +have become the whole world to me? When you are away from me, I would +rather die than live!"</p> + +<p>"Natalie—my life!"</p> + +<p>"I must say that to you—once—that you may understand—if we should +never see each other again. And now—"</p> + +<p>She gently released herself from his embrace, and went and sat down by +the table. He took a chair near her and held her hand. She would not +look up, for her eyes were still wet with tears.</p> + +<p>"And now," she said, making a great effort to regain her self-control, +"you must tell me about yourself. A woman may have her feelings and +fancies, and cry over them when she is afraid or alone; that is nothing; +it is the way of the world. It is a man's fate that is of importance."</p> + +<p>"You must not talk like that, Natalie," said he gravely. "Our fate is +one. Without you, I don't value my life more than this bit of +geranium-leaf; with you, life would be worth having."</p> + +<p>"And you must not talk like that either," she said. "Your life is +valuable to others. Ah, my dear friend, that is what I have been trying +to console myself with of late. I said, 'Well, if he goes away and does +not see me again, will he not be freer? He has a great work to do; he +may have to go away from England for many years; why should he be +encumbered with a wife?"</p> + +<p>"It was your father, I presume, who made those suggestions to you?" said +Brand, regarding her.</p> + +<p>"Yes; papa said something like that," she answered, quite innocently. +"That is what would naturally occur to him; his work has always the +first place in his thoughts. And with you, too; is it not so?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>She looked up quickly.</p> + +<p>"I will be quite frank with you, Natalie. You have the first place in my +thoughts; I hope you ever will have, while I am a living man. But cannot +I give the Society all the work that is in me equally well, whether I +love you or whether I don't, whether you become my wife or whether you +do not? <!-- Page 184 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span>I have no doubt your father has been talking to you as he has +been talking to me."</p> + +<p>She placed her disengaged hand on the top of his, and said, gently,</p> + +<p>"My father perhaps does not quite understand you; perhaps he is too +anxious. I, for one, am not anxious—about <i>that</i>. Do you know how I +trust you, my dearest of friends? Sometimes I have said to myself, 'I +will ask him for a pledge. I will say to him that he must promise, that +he must swear to me, that whatever happens as between him and me, +nothing, nothing, nothing in all the world will induce him to give up +what he has undertaken;' but then again I have said to myself, 'No, I +can trust him for that.'"</p> + +<p>"I think you may, Natalie," said he, rather absently. "And yet what +could have led me to join such a movement but your own noble spirit—the +glamour of your voice—the thanks of your eyes? You put madness into my +blood with your singing."</p> + +<p>"Do you call it madness?" she said, with a faint flush in the pale olive +face. "Is it not rather kindness—is it not justice to others—the +desire to help—something that the angels in heaven must feel when they +look down and see what a great misery there is in the world?"</p> + +<p>"I think you are an angel yourself, Natalie," said he, quite simply, +"and that you have come down and got among a lot of people who don't +treat you too well. However, we must come to the present moment. You +spoke of America; now what do you know about that?"</p> + +<p>The abrupt question startled her. She had been so overjoyed to see +him—her whole soul was so <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: "bouyant" in the original text"> +buoyant</ins> and radiant +with happiness—that she had quite forgotten or dismissed the vague +fears that had been of late besetting her. But she proceeded to tell +him, with a little hesitation here and there, and with a considerable +smoothing down of phrases, what her father had said to her. She tried to +make it appear quite reasonable. And all she prayed for was that, if he +were sent to America, if they had to part for many years, or forever, +she should be permitted to say good-bye to him.</p> + +<p>"We are not parted yet," said Brand, briefly.</p> + +<p>The fact was, he had just got a new key to the situation. So that threat +about America could serve a double purpose? He was now more than ever +convinced that Ferdinand Lind was merely playing off and on with him +until this money question should be settled; and that he had been +resolved <!-- Page 185 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span>all the time that his daughter should not marry. He was +beginning to understand.</p> + +<p>"Natalie," said he, slowly, "I told you I had something to say to you. +You know your father wrote to me in the North, asking me neither to see +you nor write to you until some matter between him and me was settled. +Well, I respected his wish until I should know what the thing was. Now +that I do know, it seems to me that you are as much concerned as any +one; and that it is not reasonable, it is not possible, I should refrain +from seeing you and consulting you."</p> + +<p>"No one shall prevent your seeing me, when it is your wish," said the +girl, in a low voice.</p> + +<p>"This, then, is the point: you know enough about the Society to +understand, and there is no particular secret. Your father wishes me to +enter the higher grade of officers, under the Council; and the first +condition is that one surrenders up every farthing of one's property."</p> + +<p>"Yes?"</p> + +<p>He stared at her. Her "Yes?"—with its affectionate interest and its +absolute absence of surprise—was almost the exact equivalent of Lord +Evelyn's "Well?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you would advise me to consent?" he said, almost in the way of +a challenge.</p> + +<p>"Ah, no," she said, with a smile. "It is not for me to advise on such +things. What you decide for yourself, that will be right."</p> + +<p>"But you don't understand, my darling. Supposing I were ambitious of +getting higher office, which I am not; supposing I were myself willing +to sell my property to swell the funds of the Society—and I don't think +I should be willing in any case—do you think I would part with what +ought to belong to my wife—to you, Natalie? Do you think I would have +you marry a beggar—one dependent on the indulgence of people unknown to +him?"</p> + +<p>And now there was a look of real alarm on the girl's face.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" she said, quickly. "Is not that what my father feared? You are +thinking of me when you should think of others. Already I—I—interfere +with your duty; I tempt you—"</p> + +<p>"My darling, be calm, be reasonable. There is no duty in the matter; +your father acknowledges that himself. It is a proposal I am free to +accept or reject, as I please; and now I promise you that, as you won't +give me any advice, I shall decide without thinking of you at all. Will +that satisfy you?"</p> + +<p><!-- Page 186 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span></p><p>She remained silent for a second or two, and then she said +thoughtfully,</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you could decide just as if there were no possibility of my +ever being your wife?"</p> + +<p>"To please you, I will assume that too."</p> + +<p>Then she said, after a bit,</p> + +<p>"One word more, dearest; you must grant me this—that I may always be +able to think of it when I am alone and far from you, and be able to +reassure myself: it is the promise I thought I could do so well without. +Now you will give it me?"</p> + +<p>"What promise?"</p> + +<p>"That whatever happens to you or to me, whatever my father demands of +me, and wherever you may have to go, you will never withdraw from what +you have undertaken."</p> + +<p>He met the earnest, pleading look of those beautiful eyes without +flinching. His heart was light enough, so far as such a promise was +concerned. Heavier oaths than that lay on him.</p> + +<p>"That is simple enough, Natalie," said he. "I promise you distinctly +that nothing shall cause me to swerve from my allegiance to the Society; +I will give absolute and implicit obedience, and the best of such work +as I can do. But they must not ask me to forget my Natalie."</p> + +<p>She rose, still holding his hand, and stood by him, so that he could not +quite see her face. Then she said, in a very low voice indeed,</p> + +<p>"Dearest, may I give you a ring?—you do not wear one at all—"</p> + +<p>"But surely, Natalie, it is for me to choose a ring for you?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, it is not that I mean," she said, quickly, and with her face +flushing. "It is a ring that will remind you of the promise you have +given me to-day—when we may not be able to see each other."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII.</h2> + +<h3>KIRSKI.</h3> + + +<p>To this pale student from the Reading-room of the British Museum, as he +stands on a bridge crossing one of the smaller canals, surely the scene +around him must seem one fitted to gladden the heart; for it is Venice +at mid-day, in glowing <!-- Page 187 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span>sunlight: the warm cream-white fronts of the +marble palaces and casemented houses, the tall campanili with their +golden tips, the vast and glittering domes of the churches, all rising +fair and dream-like into the intense dark-blue of a cloudless sky. How +the hot sunlight brings out all the beautiful color of the place—the +richly laden fruit-stalls in the Riva dei Schiavoni; the russet and +saffron sails of the vessels; the canal-boats coming in to the steps +with huge open tuns of purple wine to be ladled out with copper buckets; +and then all around the shining, twinkling plain of the green-hued sea, +catching here and there a reflection from the softly red walls of San +Giorgio and the steel-gray gleaming domes of Santa Maria della Salute.</p> + +<p>Then the passers-by: these are not like the dusky ghosts that wander +through the pale-blue mists of Bloomsbury. Here comes a buxom +water-carrier, in her orange petticoat and sage-green shawl, who has the +two copper cans at the end of the long piece of wood poised on her +shoulders, pretty nearly filled to the brim. Then a couple of the gayer +gondoliers in white and blue, with fancy waist-belts, and rings in their +ears. A procession of black-garbed monks wends slowly along; they have +come from the silence of the Armenian convent over there at the horizon. +Some wandering minstrels shoot their gondola into the mouth of the +canal, and strike up a gay waltz, while they watch the shaded balconies +above. Here is a Lascar ashore from the big steamer that is to start for +Alexandria on the morrow. A company of soldiers, with blue coats, canvas +trousers, and white gaiters, half march and half trot along to the +quick, crackling music of the buglers. A swarthy-visaged maiden, with +the calm brow of a Madonna, appears in the twilight of a balcony, with a +packet of maize in her hand, and in a minute or two she is surrounded +with a cloud of pigeons. Then this beggar—a child of eight or +ten—red-haired and blue-eyed: surely she has stepped out of one of +Titian's pictures? She whines and whimpers her prayers to him; but there +is something in her look that he has seen elsewhere. It belongs to +another century.</p> + +<p>From these reveries Mr. Gathorne Edwards was aroused by some one tapping +him on the shoulder. It was Calabressa.</p> + +<p>"My dear Monsieur Edouarts," said he, in a low voice—for the red-haired +little beggar was still standing there expectant—"he has gone over to +the shipping-place. We must follow later on. Meanwhile, regard this +letter that has just been forwarded to me. Ah, you English do not forget +your promises!"</p> + +<p><!-- Page 188 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span></p><p>Edwards threw a piece of money to the child, who passed on. Then he +took the letter and read it. It was in French.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"Dear Calabressa,—I want you to tell me what you have done with Yakov +Kirski. They seem unwilling to say here, and I do not choose to inquire +further. But I undertook to look after him, and I understood he was +getting on very well, and now you have carried him off. I hope it is +with no intention of allowing him to go back to Russia, where he will +simply make an attempt at murder, and fall into the hands of the police. +Do not let the poor devil go and make a fool of himself. If you want +money to send him back to England, show this letter, or forward it to +Messrs. ——, who will give you what you want.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Your friend, George Brand.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>"P.S.—I have seen your beautiful caged little bird. I can say no more +at present, but that she shall not suffer through any neglect of mine."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"What is that about the caged bird?" said Edwards.</p> + +<p>"Ah, the caged bird?" said Calabressa. "The caged bird?—do you see, +that is a metaphor. It is nothing; one makes one's little joke. But I +was saying, my dear friend, that you English do not promise, and then +forget. No; he says, 'I will befriend this poor devil of a Kirski;' and +here he comes inquiring after him. Now I must answer the letter; you +will accompany me, Monsieur Edouarts? Ten minutes in my little room, and +it is done."</p> + +<p>So the two walked away together. This Edwards who now accompanied +Calabressa was a man of about thirty, who looked younger; tall, fair, +with a slight stoop, a large forehead, and blue eyes that stared +near-sightedly through spectacles. The ordinary expression of his face +was grave even to melancholy, but his occasional smile was humorous, and +when he laughed the laugh was soft and light like that of a child. His +knowledge of modern languages was considered to be almost unrivalled, +though he had travelled but little.</p> + +<p>When, in this little room, Calabressa had at length finished his letter +and dusted it over with sand, he was not at all loath to show it to this +master of modern speech. Calabressa was proud of his French; and if he +would himself have acknowledged that it was perhaps here and there of +doubtful idiom and of phonetic spelling, would he not have claimed for +it that it was fluent, incisive, and ornate?</p> + +<p>"My valued friend, it is not permitted me to answer your <!-- Page 189 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span>questions in +precise terms; but he to whom you have had the goodness to extend your +bountiful protection is well and safe, and under my own care. No; he +goes not back to Russia. His thoughts are different; his madness travels +in other directions; it is no longer revenge, it is adoration and +gratitude that his heart holds. And you, can you not guess who has +worked the miracle? Think of this: you have a poor wretch who is +distracted by injuries and suffering; he goes away alone into Europe; he +is buffeted about with the winds of hunger and thirst and cold: he +cannot speak; he is like a dog—a wild beast that people drive away from +their door. And all at once some one addresses him in gentle tones: it +is the voice of an angel to him! You plough and harrow the poor wretch's +heart with suffering and contempt and hopelessness, until it is a +desert, a wilderness; but some one, by accident, one day drops a seed of +kindness into it, and behold! the beautiful flower of love springing up, +and all the man's life going into it! Can you understand—you who ought +to understand? Were you not present when the bewildered, starved, hunted +creature heard that gentle voice of pity, like an angel speaking from +heaven? And if the beautiful girl, who will be the idol of my thoughts +through my remaining years, if she does not know that she has rescued a +human soul from despair, you will tell her—tell her from me, from +Calabressa. What would not Kirski do for her? you might well ask. The +patient regards the physician who has cured him with gratitude: this is +more that gratitude, it is worship. What she has preserved she owns; he +would give his life to her, to you, to any one whom she regards with +affection. For myself, I do not say such things; but she may count on me +also, while one has yet life.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"I am yours, and hers, Calabressa."</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The letter was handed to Gathorne Edwards with a proud air; and he read +it, and handed it back.</p> + +<p>"This man Kirski is not so much of a savage as you imagine," he said. +"He learns quickly, and forgets nothing. He can repeat all the articles +of membership; but it is No. 5 that he is particularly fond of. You have +not heard him go over it, Calabressa?"</p> + +<p>"I? No. He does not waste my time that way."</p> + +<p>"His pronunciation," continued the younger man, with a smile, "is rather +like the cracking of dry twigs. 'Article 5. Whatever punishment may be +decreed against any Officer, Companion, or Friend of the Society may be +vicariously <!-- Page 190 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span>borne by any other Officer, Companion, or Friend who of his +own full and free consent acts as substitute; the original offender +becoming thereby redeemed, acquitted, and released.' And then he +invariably adds: 'Why not make me of some use? To myself my life is +nothing.'"</p> + +<p>At this moment there was a tapping at the door.</p> + +<p>"It is himself," said Edwards.</p> + +<p>"Enter!" Calabressa called out.</p> + +<p>The man who now came into the room was a very different looking person +from the wild, unkempt creature who had confronted Natalie Lind in +Curzon Street. The voluminous red beard and mustache had been cropped; +he wore the clothes of a decent workman, with a foreign touch here and +there; he was submissive and docile in look.</p> + +<p>"Well, where have you been, my friend?" Calabressa said to him in +Italian.</p> + +<p>Kirski glanced at Gathorne Edwards, and began to speak to him in +Russian.</p> + +<p>"Will you explain for me, little father? I have been to many churches."</p> + +<p>"The police will not suspect him if he goes there," said Calabressa, +laughing.</p> + +<p>"And to the shops in the Piazza San Marco, where the pictures are of the +saints."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"Little father, I can find no one of the saints so beautiful as that one +in England that the Master Calabressa knows."</p> + +<p>Calabressa laughed again.</p> + +<p>"Allons, mon grand enfant! Tell him that if it is only a likeness he is +hunting for, I can show him one."</p> + +<p>With that he took out from his breast-pocket a small pocket book, opened +it, found a certain photograph, and put it on the table, shoving it over +toward Kirski. The dim-eyed Russian did not dare to touch it; but he +stooped over it, and he put one trembling hand on each side of it, as if +he would concentrate the light, and gazed at this portrait of Natalie +Lind until he could see nothing at all for the tears that came into his +eyes. Then he rose abruptly, and said something rapidly to Edwards.</p> + +<p>"He says, 'Take it away, or you will make me a thief. It is worth more +than all the diamonds in the world.'"</p> + +<p>Calabressa did not laugh this time. He regarded the man with a look in +which there was as much pity as curiosity.</p> + +<p>"The poor devil!" he said. "Tell him I will ask the beautiful saint whom +he worships so to send him a portrait <!-- Page 191 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span>of herself with her own hands. I +will. She will do as much as that for her friend Calabressa."</p> + +<p>This had scarcely been translated to Kirski when, in his sudden +gratitude, he caught Calabressa's hand and kissed it.</p> + +<p>"Tell him, also," Calabressa said, good-naturedly, "that if he is hungry +before dinner-time there is sausage and bread and beer in the cupboard. +But he must not stir out till we come back. Allons, mon bon camarade!"</p> + +<p>Calabressa lit another cigarette, and the two companions sallied forth. +They stepped into a gondola, and presently they were being borne swiftly +over the plain of light-green water. By-and-by they plunged into a +varied and picturesque mass of shipping, and touched land again in front +of a series of stores. The gondola was ordered to await their return.</p> + +<p>Calabressa passed without question through the lower floor of this +particular building, where the people were busy with barrels of flour, +and led the way up-stairs until he stopped at a certain door. He knocked +thrice and entered. There was a small, dark man seated at a table, +apparently engaged with some bills of lading.</p> + +<p>"You are punctual, Brother Calabressa."</p> + +<p>"Your time is valuable, Brother Granaglia. Let me present to you my +comrade Signor Edouarts, of whom I wrote to you."</p> + +<p>The sallow-faced little man with the tired look bowed courteously, +begged his guests to be seated, and pushed toward them a box of +cigarettes.</p> + +<p>"Now, my Calabressa," said he, "to the point. As you guess, I am pressed +for time. Seven days hence will find me in Moscow."</p> + +<p>"In Moscow!" exclaimed Calabressa. "You dare not!"</p> + +<p>Granaglia waved his hand a couple of inches.</p> + +<p>"Do not protest. It may be your turn to-morrow. And my good friend +Calabressa would find Moscow just about as dangerous for him as for me."</p> + +<p>"Monsieur le Secretaire, I have no wish to try. But to the point, as you +say. May one ask how it stands with Zaccatelli?"</p> + +<p>Granaglia glanced at the Englishman.</p> + +<p>"Of course he knows everything," Calabressa explained instantly. "How +otherwise should I have brought him with me?"</p> + +<p>"Well, Zaccatelli has received his warning."</p> + +<p>"Who carried it?"</p> + +<p>"I."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 192 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span></p><p>"You! You are the devil! You thrust your head into the lion's den!"</p> + +<p>The black-eyed, worn-faced little man seemed pleased. An odd, dry smile +appeared about the thin lips.</p> + +<p>"It needed no courage at all, friend Calabressa. His Eminence knows who +we are, no one better. The courage was his. It is not a pleasant thing +when you are told that within a certain given time you will be a dead +man; but Zaccatelli did not blanch; no, he was very polite to me. He +paid us compliments. We were not like the others, Calabressa. We were +good citizens and Christians; even his Holiness might be induced to lend +an ear; why should not the Church and we be friends?"</p> + +<p>Calabressa burst out laughing.</p> + +<p>"Surely evil days have fallen on the Pope, Brother Granaglia, when one +of his own Cardinals proposes that he should at last countenance a +secret society. But his Eminence was mad with fear—was it not so? He +wanted to win you over with promises, eh? Idle words, and no more. He +feeds you on wind, and sends you away, and returns to his mistresses and +his wines and his fountains of perfume?"</p> + +<p>"Not quite so," said the other, with the same dry smile, "His Eminence, +as I say to you, knows as well as any one in Europe who and what we are, +and what is our power. The day after I called on him with my little +message, what does he do—of his own free-will, mind you—but send back +the daughter of old De Bedros to her home, with a pledge to her father +that she shall have a dowry of ten thousand lire when she marries. The +father is pleased, the daughter is not. She sits and cries. She talks of +herself getting at him with a stiletto."</p> + +<p>He took a cigarette, and accepted a light from Calabressa.</p> + +<p>"Further," he continued, "his Eminence is so kind as to propose to give +the Council an annual subsidy from his own purse of thirty thousand +lire."</p> + +<p>"Thirty thousand lire!" Calabressa exclaimed.</p> + +<p>But at this point even Granaglia began to laugh.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, my friend," he said, apparently apostrophizing the absent +Cardinal. "You know, then, who we are, and you do not wish to give up +all pleasures. No; we are to become the good boy among secret societies; +we are to have the blessing of the Pope; we are to fight Prince Bismarck +for you. Prince Bismarck has all his knights and his castles on the +board; but what are they against an angelic host of bishops and some +millions of common pawns? Prince Bis<!-- Page 193 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span>marck wishes to plunge Europe again +into war. The church with this tremendous engine within reach, says, No. +Do you wish to find eight men—eight men, at the least—out of every +company of every regiment in all your <i>corps d'armee</i> throw down their +rifles at the first onset of battle? You will shoot them for mutiny? My +dear fellow, you cannot, the enemy is upon you. With eight men out of +each company throwing down their weapons, and determined either to +desert or die, how on earth can you fight at all? Well, then, good +Bismarck, you had better make your peace with the Church, and rescind +those Falk laws. What do you think of that scheme, Calabressa? It was +ingenious, was it not, to have come into the head of a man under +sentence of death?"</p> + +<p>"But the thirty thousand lire, Brother Granaglia. It is a tremendous +bribe."</p> + +<p>"The Council does not accept bribes, Brother Calabressa," said the +other, coldly,</p> + +<p>"It is decided, then, that the decree remains to be executed?"</p> + +<p>"I know nothing to the contrary. But if you wish to know for certain, +you must seek the Council. They are at Naples."</p> + +<p>He pulled an ink-bottle before him, and made a motion with his +forefinger.</p> + +<p>"You understand?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes," Calabressa answered. "And I will go on to Naples, Brother +Granaglia; for I have with me one who I think will carry out the wishes +of the Council effectively, so far as his Eminence the Cardinal is +concerned."</p> + +<p>"Who is he?" said the other, but with no great interest.</p> + +<p>"Yakov Kirski. He is a Russian."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII.</h2> + +<h3>A CLIMAX.</h3> + + +<p>It was a momentous decision that George Brand had to arrive at; and yet +he scarcely seemed to be aware of it. The man had changed so much during +these past six months.</p> + +<p>"Do you know, Evelyn," he was saying to his friend, on the very evening +on which his answer was to be given to Ferdinand Lind, "I am beginning +to look on that notion of my going to America with anything but dislike. +Rather the op<!-- Page 194 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span>posite, indeed. I should like to get rid of a lot of old +associations, and start in a new and wider field. With another life to +lead, don't you want another sort of world to live it in?"</p> + +<p>Lord Evelyn regarded him. No one had observed with a closer interest the +gradual change that had come over this old friend of his. And he was +proud of it, too; for had it not been partly of his doing?</p> + +<p>"One does not breathe free air here," Brand continued, rather +absently—as if his mental vision was fixed on the greater spaces beyond +the seas. "With a new sort of life beginning, wouldn't it be better to +start it under new conditions—feeling yourself unhampered—with nothing +around to disturb even the foolishness of your dreams and hopes? Then +you could work away at your best, leaving the result to time."</p> + +<p>"I know perfectly what all that means," Lord Evelyn said. "You are +anxious to get away from Lind. You believe in your work, but you don't +like to be associated with him."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I know a little more than you, Evelyn," said Brand, gently, "of +Lind's relation to the society. He does not represent it to me at all. +He is only one of its servants, like ourselves. But don't let us talk +about him."</p> + +<p>"You <i>must</i> talk about him," Lord Evelyn said, as he pulled out his +watch. "It is now seven. At eight you go to the initiation of Molyneux, +and you have promised to give Lind his answer to-night. Well?"</p> + +<p>Brand was playing idly with a pocket-pencil. After a minute or two, he +said,</p> + +<p>"I promised Natalie to consider this thing without any reference to her +whatever—that I would decide just as if there was no possibility of her +becoming my wife. I promised that; but it is hard to do, Evelyn. I have +tried to imagine my never having seen her, and that I had been led into +this affair solely through you. Then I do think that if you had come to +me and said that my giving up every penny I possess would forward a good +work—would do indirect benefit to a large number of people, and so +forth—I do think I could have said, 'All right, Evelyn; take it.' I +never cared much for money; I fancy I could get on pretty well on a +sovereign a week. I say that if you had come to me with this request—"</p> + +<p>"Precisely," Lord Evelyn said, quickly. "You would have said yes, if I +had come to you. But because it is Lind, whom you distrust, you fall +away from the height of self-sacrifice, and regard the proposal from the +point of view of the Waldegrave Club. Mind you, I am not counselling you +one way or the <!-- Page 195 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span>other. I am only pointing out to you that it is your +dislike of Lind that prevents your doing what you otherwise would have +done."</p> + +<p>"Very well," said the other, boldly. "Have I not reason to distrust him? +How can I explain his conduct and his implied threats except on the +supposition that he has been merely playing with me, as far as his +daughter is concerned; and that as soon as I had handed over this +property I should find it out? Oh, it is a very pretty scheme +altogether! This heap of English money transferred to the treasury; Lind +at length achieving his ambition of being put on the Council; Natalie +carried off to Italy; and myself granted the honor of stepping into +Lind's shoes in Lisle Street. On the other hand: 'Refuse, and we pack +you off to America.' Now, you know, Evelyn, one does not like to be +threatened into anything!"</p> + +<p>"Then you have decided to say, No?"</p> + +<p>He did not answer for a second or two; when he did, his manner was quite +changed.</p> + +<p>"I rather think I know what both you and Natalie would have me do, +although you won't say so explicitly. And if you and she had come to me +with this proposal, do you think there would have been any difficulty? I +should have been satisfied if she had put her hand in mine, and said, +'Thank you.' Then I should have reminded her that she was sacrificing +something too."</p> + +<p>He relapsed into silence again; Lord Evelyn was vaguely conscious that +the minutes were passing by, and that his friend seemed as far off as +ever from any decision.</p> + +<p>"You remember the old-fashioned rose-garden, Evelyn?"</p> + +<p>"At the beeches? Yes."</p> + +<p>"Don't you think Natalie would like the view from that side of the +house? And if she chose that side, I was thinking of having a +conservatory built all the length of the rooms, with steps opening out +into the rose-garden. She could go out there for a stroll of a morning."</p> + +<p>So these had been his dreams.</p> + +<p>"If I go to America," he said presently, "I should expect you to look +after the old place a little bit. You might take your sisters there +occasionally, and turn them loose; it wants a woman's hand here and +there. Mrs. Alleyne would put you all right; and of course I should send +Waters down, and give up those rooms in Buckingham Street."</p> + +<p>"But I cannot imagine your going to America, somehow," <!-- Page 196 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span>Lord Evelyn +said. "Surely there is plenty for you to do here."</p> + +<p>"I will say this of Lind, that he is not an idle talker. What he says he +means. Besides, Molyneux can take up my work in the North; he is the +very man."</p> + +<p>Again silence. It was now half-past seven.</p> + +<p>"I wish, though, it had been something more exciting," Brand said. "I +should not have minded having a turn at the Syrian business; I am not +much afraid of risking my neck. There is not much danger in +Philadelphia."</p> + +<p>"But look here, Brand," said Lord Evelyn, regarding him attentively. +"You are speaking with great equanimity about your going to America; +possibly you might like the change well enough; but do I understand you +that you are prepared to go alone?"</p> + +<p>Brand looked up; he understood what was meant.</p> + +<p>"If I am ordered—yes."</p> + +<p>He held out his right hand; on the third finger there was a massive gold +ring—a plain hoop, without motto or design whatever.</p> + +<p>"There," said he, "is the first ring I ever wore. It was given to me +this afternoon, to remind me of a promise; and that promise is to me +more binding than a hundred oaths."</p> + +<p>He rose with a sigh.</p> + +<p>"Ah, well, Evelyn, whatever happens we will not complain. There have +been compensations."</p> + +<p>"But you have not told me what answer you mean to give to Lind."</p> + +<p>"Suppose I wait until I see him before deciding?"</p> + +<p>"Then you will say, No. You have allowed your distrust of him to become +a sort of mania, and the moment you see him the mere sight of him will +drive you into antagonism."</p> + +<p>"I tell you what I wish I could do, Evelyn," said the other, laughing: +"I wish I could turn over everything I have got to you, and escape +scot-free to America and start my own life free and unencumbered."</p> + +<p>"And alone?"</p> + +<p>His face grew grave again.</p> + +<p>"There is nothing possible else!" said he.</p> + +<p>It was nearly eight o'clock when he left. As he walked along Piccadilly, +a clear and golden twilight was shining over the trees in the Green +Park. All around him was the roar of the London streets; but it was not +that that he heard. Was it not rather the sound of a soft, low voice, +and the silvery <!-- Page 197 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span>notes of the zither? His memory acted as a sea-shell, +and brought him an echo from other days and other climes.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Behold the beautiful night—the wind sleeps drowsily—the silent +shores slumber in the dark:</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0" style="margin-left: -.5em">"Sul placido elemento<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Vien meco a navigar!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"The soft wind moves—as it stirs among the leaves—it moves and +dies—among the murmur of the water:</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0" style="margin-left: -.5em">"Lascia l'amico tetto,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Vien meco a navigar!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Now on the spacious mantle—of the already darkening heavens—see, +oh the shining wonder—how the white stars tremble:</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0" style="margin-left: -.5em">"Sul l'onde addormentate<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Vien meco a navigar!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<p>This was the voice that he heard amidst the roar of the London streets. +Would he hear it far away on the wide Atlantic, with the shores of +England hidden behind the mists of rain? To-night was to decide what the +future of his life was to be.</p> + +<p>If Natalie had appeared at this moment, and said to him, "Dearest, let +it be as my father wishes;" or if Lord Evelyn had frankly declared to +him that it was his duty to surrender his possessions to this Society to +which he had devoted his life, there would have been not a moment's +hesitation. But now he was going to see a man whom he suspected and was +inclined to hate, and his nature began to harden. It would be a question +between one man of the world and another. Sentiment would be put aside. +He would no longer be played with. A man should be master of his own +affairs.</p> + +<p>This was what he said to himself. But he had quite forgotten his +determination to consider this matter as if no Natalie existed; and his +resolve to exclude sentiment altogether did not interfere with the fact +that always, if unconsciously, there remained in his mind a certain +picture he had been dreaming a good deal about of late. It was a picture +of an old-fashioned rose-garden in the light of an English summer +morning, with a young wife walking there, herself taller and fairer than +any flower. Would she sing, in her gladness, the songs of other lands, +to charm the sweet English air? There was that one about <i>O dolce +Napoli!—o suol beato!</i>—</p> + +<p>When he got to Lisle Street, every one had arrived except Molyneux +himself. Mr. Lind was gravely polite to him. Of <!-- Page 198 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span>course no mention could +then be made about private affairs; the talk going on was all about the +East, and how certain populations were faring.</p> + +<p>Presently the pink-faced farmer-agitator was ushered in, looking a +little bit alarmed. But this frightened look speedily disappeared, and +gave place to one of mild astonishment, as he appeared to recognize the +faces of one or two of those in the room. The business of the evening, +so far as the brief formalities were concerned, was speedily got over, +and five of the members of the small assembly immediately left.</p> + +<p>"Now, Mr. Molyneux," said Ferdinand Lind, pleasantly, "Mr. Brand and I +have some small private matters to talk over: will you excuse us if we +leave you for a few minutes? Here are some articles of our association +which you may look over in the mean time. May I trouble you to follow +me, Mr. Brand?"</p> + +<p>Brand followed him into an inner and smaller room, and sat down.</p> + +<p>"You said you would have your mind made up to-day with regard to the +proposal I put before you," Mr. Lind observed, with a matter-of-fact +air, as he drew in his chair to the small table.</p> + +<p>Brand simply nodded, and said "Yes." He was measuring his man. He +thought his manner was a good deal too suave.</p> + +<p>"But allow me to say, my dear Mr. Brand, that, as far I am concerned, +there is no hurry. Have you given yourself time? It is a matter of +moment; one should consider."</p> + +<p>"I have considered."</p> + +<p>His tone was firm: one would have thought he had never had any +hesitation at all. But his decision had not been definitely arrived at +until, some quarter of an hour before, he had met Ferdinand Lind face to +face.</p> + +<p>"I may say at once that I prefer to remain in my present grade."</p> + +<p>He was watching Lind as he spoke. There was a slight, scarcely +perceptible, movement of the eyebrows; that was all. The quiet courtesy +of his manner remained undisturbed.</p> + +<p>"That is your decision, then?" he said, just as if some trifling matter +had been arranged.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I need not bother you with my reasons," Brand continued, +speaking slowly and with precision, "but there are several."</p> + +<p>"I have no doubt you have given the subject serious con<!-- Page 199 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span>sideration," +said Mr. Lind, without expressing any <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: "futher" in the original text"> +further</ins> interest or curiosity.</p> + +<p>Now this was not at all what George Brand wanted. He wanted to have his +suspicions allayed or confirmed. He wanted to let this man know how he +read the situation.</p> + +<p>"One reason I may as well name to you, Mr. Lind," said he, being forced +to speak more plainly. "If I were to marry, I should like to give my +wife a proper home. I should not like her to marry a pauper—one +dependent on the complaisance of other people. And really it has seemed +to me strange that you, with your daughter's future, your daughter's +interests to think of, should have made this proposal—"</p> + +<p>Lind interrupted him with a slight deprecatory motion of the hand.</p> + +<p>"Pardon me," said he. "Let us confine ourselves to business, if you +please."</p> + +<p>"I presume it is a man's business to provide for the future of his +wife," said Brand, somewhat hotly, his pride beginning to kick against +this patronizing graciousness of manner.</p> + +<p>"I must beg of you, my dear sir," said Mr. Lind, with the same calm +courtesy, "to keep private interests and projects entirely outside of +this matter, which relates to the Society alone, and your duty, and the +wishes of those with whom you are associated. You have decided?—very +well. I am sorry; but you are within your right."</p> + +<p>"How can you talk like that?" said Brand, bluntly. "Sorry that your +daughter is not to marry a beggar?"</p> + +<p>"I must decline to have Natalie introduced into this subject in any way +whatever," said Mr. Lind.</p> + +<p>"Let us drop the subject, then," said Brand, in a friendly way, for he +was determined to have some further enlightenment. "Now about Natalie. +May I ask you plainly if you have any objection to a marriage between +her and myself?"</p> + +<p>The answer was prompt and emphatic.</p> + +<p>"I have every objection. I have said before that it would be inexpedient +in many ways. It is not to be thought of."</p> + +<p>Brand was not surprised by this refusal; he had expected it; he had put +the question as a matter of form.</p> + +<p>"Now one other question, Mr. Lind, and I shall be satisfied," said he, +watching the face of the man opposite him with a keen scrutiny. "Was it +ever your intention, at any time, to give your consent to our marriage, +in any circumstances whatever?"</p> + +<p>Ferdinand Lind was an admirable actor.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 200 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span></p><p>"Is it worth while discussing imaginary things—possibilities only?" he +said, carelessly.</p> + +<p>"Because, you see," continued Brand, who was not to be driven from his +point, "any plain and ordinary person, looking from the outside at the +whole affair, might imagine that you had been merely temporizing with +me, neither giving nor refusing your consent, until I had handed over +this money; and that, as you had never intended to let your daughter +marry, that was the reason why you did not care whether I retained a +penny of my own property or not."</p> + +<p>Lind did not flinch for an instant; nor was there the slightest trace of +surprise, or annoyance, or resentment in his look. He rose and pushed +back his chair.</p> + +<p>"Suppose we let outsiders think what they please, Mr. Brand," said he, +with absolute composure. "We have more serious matters to attend to."</p> + +<p>Brand rose also. He guessed what was coming, and he had nerved himself +to face it. The whole course of this man's action was now as clear to +him as noonday.</p> + +<p>"I have been considering further the suggestion I mentioned to you the +other day, that you should go over to some of the big American cities," +said Mr. Lind, almost with an indifferent air as he turned over some +papers. "We are strong there; you will find plenty of friends; but what +is wanted is cohesion, arrangement, co-operation. Now you say yourself +this Mr. Molyneux would be an admirable successor to you in the North?"</p> + +<p>"None better," said Brand. This sentence of banishment had been +foreseen; he knew how to encounter it when it came.</p> + +<p>"I think, on the whole, it would be advisable then. When could you go?"</p> + +<p>"I could start to-night," he said. But then, despite himself, a blush of +embarrassment mounted to his forehead, and he added quickly, "No; not +to-night. The day after to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"There is no need for any such great hurry," said Mr. Lind, with his +complaisant smile. "You will want much direction, many letters. Come, +shall we join your friend in the other room?"</p> + +<p>The two men, apparently on the best of terms, went back to Molyneux, and +the talk became general. George Brand, as he sat there, kept his right +hand shut tight, that so he could press the ring that Natalie had given +him; and when he thought of America, it was almost with a sense of +relief. <!-- Page 201 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span>She would approve; he would not betray his promise to her But +if only that one moment were over in which he should have to bid her +farewell!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXIX.</h2> + +<h3>A GOOD-NIGHT MESSAGE.</h3> + + +<p>Brand had nerved himself for that interview; he had determined to betray +neither surprise nor concern; he was prepared for the worst. When it was +intimated to him that hence-forth his life was to be lived out beyond +the seas, he had appeared to take it as a matter of course. Face to face +with his enemy, he would utter no protest. Then, had he not solemnly +promised to Natalie that nothing in the world should tempt him from his +allegiance? Why should he shrink from going to America, or prefer London +to Philadelphia? He had entered into a service that took no heed of such +things.</p> + +<p>But when he had parted from Lind and Molyneux, and got out into the +sombre glare of the night-world of London, and when there was no further +need for that forced composure, he began more clearly to recognize his +position, and his heart grew heavy. This, then, was the end of those +visions of loving companionship and constant and sustaining sympathy +with which he had dared to fill the future. He had thought little of +anything that might be demanded from him so long as he could anticipate +Natalie's approval, and be rewarded with a single glance of gratitude +from the proud, dark, beautiful eyes. What mattered it to him what +became of himself, what circumstances surrounded them, so long as he and +she were together? But now a more terrible sacrifice than any he had +dreamed of had to be made. The lady of love whom the Pilgrims had sworn +to serve was proving herself inexorable indeed:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0" style="margin-left: -.5em">"—Is she a queen, having great gifts to give?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">—Yea, these; that whoso hath seen her shall not live<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Except to serve her sorrowing, with strange pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Travail and bloodshedding and bitterer tears;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And when she bids die he shall surely die.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And he shall leave all things under the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">And go forth naked under sun and rain,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">And work and wait and watch out all his years."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><!-- Page 202 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span></p><p>When Lord Evelyn had asked him whether he was prepared to go to America +<i>alone</i>, he had clasped the ring that Natalie had given him, and +answered "Yes." But that was as a matter of theory. It was what he might +do, in certain possible circumstances. Now that he had to face the +reality, and bethink him of the necessity of taking Natalie's hand for +the last time, his heart sank within him.</p> + +<p>He walked on blindly through the busy streets, seeing nothing around +him. His memory was going over the most trivial incidents connected with +Natalie, as if every look of hers, every word she had uttered, was now +become something inexpressibly precious. Were there not many things he +could carry away with him to the land beyond the seas? No distance or +time could rob him of the remembrance of that night at the opera—the +scent of white rose—her look as she gave him the forget-me-nots. Then +the beautiful shining day as they drew near to Dover, and her pride +about England, and the loosened curls of hair that blew about her neck. +On the very first evening on which he had seen her—she sitting at the +table and bending over the zither—her profile touched by the +rose-tinted light from the shade of the candle—the low, rich voice, +only half heard, singing the old, familiar, tender <i>Lorelei</i>. He felt +the very touch of her fingers on his arm when she turned to him with +reproving eyes: "<i>Is that the way you answer an appeal for help?</i>" That +poor devil of a Kirski—what had become of him? He would find out from +Reitzei; and, before leaving England, would take care that something +should be done for the luckless outcast. He should have cause to +remember all his life-long that Natalie Lind had interfered in his +behalf.</p> + +<p>Without knowing well how he got there, Brand found himself in Curzon +Street. He walked on, perhaps with some vague notion that he might meet +Natalie herself, until he arrived at the house. It was quite dark; there +was no light in any of the windows; Anneli had not even lit the gas-jet +in the narrow hall. He turned away from the door that he felt was now +barred against him forever, and walked back to Clarges Street.</p> + +<p>Lord Evelyn was out; the man did not know when he would be home again. +So Brand turned away from that door also, and resumed his aimless +wanderings, busy with those pictures of the past. At length he got down +to Buckingham Street, and almost mechanically made his way toward his +own rooms.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 203 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span></p><p>He had reached his door, however, when he heard some one speaking +within.</p> + +<p>"I might have known," he said to himself. "That is so like Evelyn."</p> + +<p>It was indeed Lord Evelyn, who was chatting familiarly with old Waters. +But the moment Brand entered he ceased, and a look of anxiety, and even +alarm, appeared instantly on the fine, sensitive, expressive face.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter, Brand? Are you ill?"</p> + +<p>"No," said the other, dropping into a chair; "only tired—and worried, +perhaps. Waters, get me a biscuit and a glass of sherry. Now, when I +think of it, I ought to feel tired—I have eaten nothing since eight +o'clock this morning."</p> + +<p>Lord Evelyn jumped to his feet.</p> + +<p>"Come off at once, Brand. We will go up to the Strand and get you +something to eat. Gracious goodness, it is nearly ten o'clock!"</p> + +<p>"No, no, never mind. I have something to talk to you about, Evelyn."</p> + +<p>"But why on earth had Waters no dinner waiting for you?"</p> + +<p>"I did not tell him—I forgot. Never mind; I will have some supper +by-and-by. I called on you, Evelyn, about half an hour ago; I might have +known you would be here."</p> + +<p>Lord Evelyn paused for a second or two, while Waters came in and went +out again. Then he said,</p> + +<p>"I can tell by your face, Brand, that something has happened."</p> + +<p>"Nothing that I had not foreseen."</p> + +<p>"Did you consent or refuse?"</p> + +<p>"I refused."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"Then, as I knew he would, he suggested that I might as well get ready +to start for America as soon as possible."</p> + +<p>Brand was speaking in a light and scornful way; but his face was +careworn, and his eyes kept turning to the windows and the dark night +outside, as if they were looking at something far away.</p> + +<p>"About Natalie?" Lord Evelyn asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, he was frank enough. He dropped all those roundabout phrases about +the great honor, and so forth. He was quite plain. 'Not to be thought +of.'"</p> + +<p>Lord Evelyn remained silent for some time.</p> + +<p>"I am very sorry, Brand," he said at length; and then he continued with +some hesitation—"Do you know—I have <!-- Page 204 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span>been thinking that—that though +it's a very extreme thing for a man to give up his fortune—a very +extreme thing—I can quite understand how the proposal looked to you +very monstrous at first—still, if you put that in the balance as +against a man's giving up his native country and the woman whom he is in +love with—don't you see—the happiness of people of so much more +importance than a sum of money, however large—"</p> + +<p>"My dear fellow," said Brand, interrupting him, "there is no such +alternative—there never was any such alternative. Do you not think I +would rather give up twenty fortunes than have to go and bid good-bye to +Natalie? It is not a question of money. I suspected before—I know +now—that Lind never meant to let his daughter marry. He would not +definitely say no to me while he thought I could be persuaded about this +money business; as soon as I refused that, he was frank and explicit +enough. I see the whole thing clearly enough now. Well, he has not +altogether succeeded."</p> + +<p>His eye happened to light on the ring on his finger, and the frown on +his face lifted somewhat.</p> + +<p>"If I could only forget Lind; if I could forget why it was that I had to +go to America, I should think far less of the pain of separation. If I +could go to Natalie, and say, 'Look at what we must do, for the sake of +something greater than our own wishes and dreams,' then I think I could +bid her good-bye without much faltering; but when you know that it is +unnecessary—that you are being made the victim of a piece of personal +revenge—how can you look forward with any great enthusiasm to the new +life that lies before you? That is what troubles me, Evelyn."</p> + +<p>"I cannot argue the matter with you," his friend said, looking down, and +evidently much troubled himself. "I cannot help remembering that it was +I let you in for all this—"</p> + +<p>"Don't say that, Evelyn," Brand broke in, quickly. "Do you think I would +have it otherwise? Once in America, I shall no doubt forget how I came +to go there. I shall have something to do."</p> + +<p>"I—I was going to say that—that perhaps you are not quite fair to +Lind. You impute motives that may not exist."</p> + +<p>Lord Evelyn flushed a little; it was almost as if he were excusing or +defending one he had no particular wish to defend; but all the same, +with some hesitation, he continued,</p> + +<p>"Consider Lind's position. Mind, your reading of his conduct is only +pure assumption. It is quite possible that he would be really and +extremely surprised if he knew that <!-- Page 205 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span>you fancied he had been allowing +personal feelings to sway his decision. But suppose this—suppose he is +honestly convinced that you would be of great service in America. He has +seen what you can do in the way of patient persuading of people. I know +he has plenty around him who can do the risky business—men who have +been adventurous all their lives—who would like nothing better than to +be commissioned to set up a secret printing-press next door to the +Commissary of Police in St. Petersburg. I say he has plenty of people +like that; but very few who have persistence and patience enough to do +what you have been doing in the north of England. He told me so himself. +Very well. Suppose he thinks that what you have been doing this man +Molyneux can carry on? Suppose, in short, that, if he had no daughter at +all, he would be anxious to send you to the States?"</p> + +<p>Brand nodded. There was no harm in letting his friend have his theory.</p> + +<p>"Very well. Now suppose that, having this daughter, he would rather not +have her marry. He says she is of great service to him; and his wish to +have her with him always would probably exaggerate that service, +unconsciously to himself, if it were proposed to take her away. That is +only natural."</p> + +<p>Brand again assented.</p> + +<p>"Very well. He discovers that you and she are attached to each other. +Probably he does not consider it a very serious affair, so far; but he +knows that if you remain in London it would probably become so. Now, +Natalie is a girl of firm character; she is very gentle, but she is not +a fool. If you remained in London she would probably marry you, whether +her father liked it or not, if she thought it was right. He knows that; +he knows that the girl is capable of acting on her own judgment. Now put +the two things together. Here is this opportune service on which you can +be sent. That, according to his view, will be a good thing of itself; it +will also effectually prevent a marriage which he thinks would be +inexpedient. Don't you see that there may be no personal revenge or +malice in the whole affair? He may consider he is acting quite rightly, +with regard to the best interests of everybody concerned."</p> + +<p>"I am sick of him, Evelyn—of hearing of him—of thinking of him," Brand +said, impatiently. "Come, let us talk of something else. I wish the +whole business of starting for America were over, and I had only the +future to think about."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 206 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span></p><p>"That is not likely," said Lord Evelyn, gently. "You cannot cut +yourself away from everything like that. There will be <i>some</i> memories."</p> + +<p>Waters here appeared with a tray, and speedily placed on the table a +lobster, some oysters, and a bottle of Chablis.</p> + +<p>"There you are, Evelyn; have some supper."</p> + +<p>"Not unless you have some."</p> + +<p>"By-and-by—"</p> + +<p>"No, now."</p> + +<p>So the two friends drew in their chairs.</p> + +<p>"I have been thinking," said Lord Evelyn—with a slight flush, for he +was telling a lie—"I have been thinking for some time back I should +like to go to America for a year or two. There are some political phases +I should like to study."</p> + +<p>Brand looked at him.</p> + +<p>"You never thought of it before to-night. But it is like you to think of +it now."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I assure you," said the other, hastily, "there are points of great +interest in the political life of America that one could only properly +study on the spot—hearing the various opinions, don't you know—and +seeing how the things practically work. I should have gone long before +now, but that I dreaded the passage across. When do you go?"</p> + +<p>"It is not settled yet."</p> + +<p>"What line shall you go by?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know."</p> + +<p>Lord Evelyn paused for a moment; then he said,</p> + +<p>"I'll go with you, Brand."</p> + +<p>Well, he had not the heart even to protest; for he thoroughly understood +the generous friendship that had prompted such an offer. He might +remonstrate afterward; now he would not. On the contrary, he began to +speak of his experience of the various lines; of the delight of the +voyage to any one not abnormally sensitive to sea-sickness; of the +humors of the bagmen; of the occupations and amusements on board; of +dolphins, fog-horns, icebergs, rope-quoits, grass-widows, and the +chances of poker. It was all a holiday excursion, then? The two friends +lit their cigars and went back to their arm-chairs. The tired and +haggard look on George Brand's face had for the moment been banished.</p> + +<p>But by-and-by he said, <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: "rathed" in the original text"> +rather</ins> absently,</p> + +<p>"I suppose, hereafter, Natalie and you will have many a talk over what +has happened. And you will go there just as usual, and spend the +evening, and hear her read, or listen to her singing with the zither. It +seems strange. Perhaps she <!-- Page 207 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span>will be able to forget altogether—to cut +this unhappy episode out of her life, as it were." Then he added, as if +speaking to himself, "No, she is not likely to forget."</p> + +<p>Lord Evelyn looked up.</p> + +<p>"In the mean time, does she know about your going?"</p> + +<p>"I presume not—not yet. But I must see her and tell her unless, indeed, +Lind should try to prevent that too. He might lay injunctions on her +that she was not to see me again."</p> + +<p>"That is true," his friend said. "He might command. But the question is +whether she would obey. I have known Natalie Lind longer than you have. +She is capable of thinking and acting for herself."</p> + +<p>Nothing further was said on this point; they proceeded to talk of other +matters. It was perhaps a quarter of an hour afterward—close on eleven +o'clock—that Waters knocked at the door and then came into the room.</p> + +<p>"A letter for you, sir."</p> + +<p>A quick glance at the envelope startled him.</p> + +<p>"How did you get it?" he said instantly.</p> + +<p>"A girl brought it, sir, in a cab. She is gone again. There was no +answer, she said."</p> + +<p>Waters withdrew. Brand hastily opened the letter, and read the following +lines, written in pencil, apparently with a trembling hand:</p> + +<p>"Dearest,—I spent this evening with Madame Potecki. My father came for +me, and on the way home has told me something of what has occurred. It +was for the purpose of telling me that you and I must not meet +again—never, never. My own, I cannot allow you to pass a single night, +or a single hour, thinking such a thing possible. Have I not promised to +you? When it is your wish to see me, come to me: I am yours. Good-night, +and Heaven guard you!</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"NATALIE."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>George Brand turned to his friend.</p> + +<p>"This," said he; but his lip trembled, and he stopped for a second. Then +he continued: "This is a message from her, Evelyn. And I know what poor +old Calabressa would say of it, if he were here. He would say: 'This is +what might have been expected from the daughter of Natalie Berezolyi!'"</p> + +<p>"She knows, then?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said he, still looking at the hastily written lines in pencil, +"and it is as you imagined. Her father has told her <!-- Page 208 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span>we must not see +each other again, and she has refused to be bound by any such +injunction. I rather fancy she thinks he must have conveyed the same +intimation to me; at all events, she has written at once to assure me +that she will not break her promise to me. It was kindly meant; was it +not? I wish Anneli had waited for a second."</p> + +<p>He folded up the letter and put it in his pocket-book: it was one more +treasure he should carry with him to America. But when, later on, Evelyn +had left, he took it out again, and re-read again and again the +irregular, hurried, pencilled lines, and thought of the proud, quick, +generous spirit that had prompted them. And was she still awake and +thinking? And could her heart hear, through the silence of the night, +the message of love and gratitude that he sent her? "<i>Good-night, and +Heaven guard you!</i>" It had been a troubled and harassing day for him; +but this tender good-night message came in at the close of it like a +strain of sweet music that he would carry with him into the land of +dreams.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXX" id="CHAPTER_XXX"></a>CHAPTER XXX.</h2> + +<h3>SOME TREASURES.</h3> + + +<p>The next morning Natalie was sitting alone in the little dining-room, +dressed ready to go out. Perhaps she had been crying a little by +herself; but at all events, when she heard the sound of some one being +admitted at the front-door and coming into the passage, she rose, with a +flush of pleasure and relief appearing on her pale and saddened face. It +was Madame Potecki.</p> + +<p>"Ah, it is so good of you to come early," said Natalie to her friend, +with a kind of forced cheerfulness. "Shall we start at once? I have been +thinking and thinking myself into a state of misery; and what is the use +of that?"</p> + +<p>"Let me look at you," said the prompt little music mistress, taking both +her hands, and regarding her with her clear, shrewd blue eyes. "No; you +are not looking well. The walk will do you good, my dear. Come away, +then."</p> + +<p>But Natalie paused in the passage, with some appearance of +embarrassment. Anneli was standing by the door.</p> + +<p>"Remember this, Anneli; if any one calls and wishes to see me—and +particularly wishes to see me—you will not say, 'My mistress is gone +out;' you will say, 'My mistress is <!-- Page 209 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span>gone to the South Kensington Museum +with Madame Potecki.' Do you understand that, Anneli?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Fraulein; certainly."</p> + +<p>Then they left, going by way of the Park. And the morning was fresh and +bright; the energetic little Polish lady was more talkative and cheerful +than ever; the girl with her had only to listen, with as much appearance +of interest as was possible, considering that her thoughts were so apt +to wonder away elsewhither.</p> + +<p>"My dear, what a lovely morning for us to go and look at my treasures! +The other day I was saying to myself, 'There is my adopted daughter +Natalie, and I have not a farthing to leave her. What is the use of +adopting a child if you have nothing to leave her? Then I said to +myself, 'Never mind; I will teach her my theory of living; that will +make her richer than a hundred legacies will do.' Dear, dear! that was +all the legacy my poor husband left to me."</p> + +<p>She passed her hand over her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Don't you ever marry a man who has anything to do with politics, my +child. Many a time my poor Potecki used to say to me, 'My angel, +cultivate contentment; you may have to live on it some day.'"</p> + +<p>"And you have taken his advice, madame; you are very content."</p> + +<p>"Why? Because I have my theory. They think that I am poor. It is poor +Madame Potecki, who earns her solitary supper by 'One, two, three, four; +one, two, three, four;' who has not a treasure in the world—except a +young Hungarian lady, who is almost a daughter to her. Well, well; but +you know my way of thinking, my dear, you laugh at it; I know you do. +You say, 'That mad little Madame Potecki.' But some day I will convince +you."</p> + +<p>"I am willing to be taught now, madame—seriously. Is it not wise to be +content?"</p> + +<p>"I am more than content, my dear; I am proud, I am vain. When I think of +all the treasures that belong to the public, and to me as one of the +public—the Turner landscapes in the National Gallery; the books and +statues in the British Museum; the bronzes and china and jewellery at +South Kensington—do you not think, my dear, that I am thankful I have +no paltry little collection in my own house that I should be ashamed of? +Then look at the care that is taken of them. I have no risk. I am not +disheartened for a day because a servant has broken my best piece of +Nankin blue. I have no trouble and no thought; it is only when I have a +little hol<!-- Page 210 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span>iday that I say to myself, 'Well, shall I go and see my +Rembrandts? Or shall I look over my cases of Etruscan rings? Or shall I +go and feast my eyes on the <i>bleu de roi</i> of a piece of jewelled +Sevres?' Oh, my love!"</p> + +<p>She clasped her hands in ecstasy. Her volubility had outrun itself and +got choked.</p> + +<p>"I will show you three vases," said she, presently, in almost a solemn +way—"I will show you three vases, in white and brown crackle, and put +all the color in the whole of my collection to shame. My dear, I have +never seen in the world anything so lovely—the soft cream-white ground, +the rich brown decoration—the beautiful, bold, graceful shape; and they +only cost sixty pounds!—sixty pounds for three, and they are worth a +kingdom! Why— But really, my dear Natalie, you walk too fast. I feel as +if I were being marched off to prison!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I beg your pardon!" said the girl, laughing. "I am always +forgetting; and papa scolds me often enough for it."</p> + +<p>"Have you heard what I told you about those priceless vases in the South +Kensington?"</p> + +<p>"I am most anxious to see them, I assure you."</p> + +<p>"My blue-and-white," Madame Potecki continued, seriously, "I am afraid +is not always of the best. There are plenty of good pieces, it is true; +but they are not the finest feature of the collection. Oh! the Benares +brocades—I had forgotten them. Ah, my dear, these will make you open +your eyes!"</p> + +<p>"But don't you get bewildered, madame, with having to think of so many +possessions?" said Natalie, respectfully.</p> + +<p>"No," said the other, in a matter-of-fact way; "I take them one by one. +I pay a morning call here, a morning call there, when I have no +appointments, just to see that everything is going on well."</p> + +<p>Presently she said,</p> + +<p>"Ah, well, my dear, we are poor weak creatures. Here and there, in my +wanderings I have met things that I almost coveted; but see what an +impossible, monstrous collection they would make! Let me think, now. The +Raphael at Dresden; two Titian portraits in the Louvre; the Venus of +Milo—not the Medici one at all; I would not take it; I swear I would +not accept it, that trivial little creature with the yellow skin!"</p> + +<p>"My dear friend, the heavens will fall on you!" her companion exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Wait a moment," said the little music-mistress, reflective<!-- Page 211 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span>ly. "I have +not completed my collection. There is a Holy Family of Botticelli's—I +forget where I saw it. And the bust of the Empress Messalina in the +Uffizi: did you ever notice it, Natalie?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Do not forget it when you are in Florence again. You won't believe any +of the stories about her when you see the beautiful refined face; only +don't forget to remark how flat the top of her head is. Well, where are +we, my dear? The bronze head of the goddess in the Castellani +collection: I would have that; and the fighting Temeraire. Will these +do? But then, my dear, even if one had all these things, see what a +monstrous collection they would make. What should I do with them in my +lodgings, even if I had room? No; I must be content with what I have."</p> + +<p>By this time they had got down into South Kensington and were drawing +near one of Madame Potecki's great treasure houses.</p> + +<p>"Then, you see, my dear Natalie," she continued, "my ownership of these +beautiful things we are going to see is not selfish. It can be +multiplied indefinitely. You may have it too; any one may have it, and +all without the least anxiety!"</p> + +<p>"That is very pleasant also," said the girl, who was paying less heed +now. The forced cheerfulness that had marked her manner at starting had +in great measure left her. Her look was absent; she blindly followed her +guide through the little wicket, and into the hushed large hall.</p> + +<p>The silence was grateful to her; there was scarcely any one in the +place. While Madame Potecki busied herself with some catalogue or other, +the girl turned aside into a recess, to look at a cast of the effigy on +the tomb of Queen Eleanor of Castile. A tombstone stills the air around +it. Even this gilt plaster figure was impressive; it had the repose of +the dead.</p> + +<p>But she had not been standing there for a couple of seconds when she +heard a well-known voice behind her.</p> + +<p>"Natalie!"</p> + +<p>She knew. There was neither surprise nor shamefacedness in her look when +she turned and saw George Brand before her. Her eyes were as fearless as +ever when they met his; and they were glad, too, with a sudden joy; and +she said, quickly,</p> + +<p>"Ah, I thought you would come. I told Anneli."</p> + +<p>"It was kind of you—and brave—to let me come to see you."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 212 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span></p><p>"Kind?" she said. "How could I do otherwise?"</p> + +<p>"But you are looking tired, Natalie."</p> + +<p>"I did not sleep much last night. I was thinking."</p> + +<p>The tears started to her eyes; she impatiently brushed them aside.</p> + +<p>"I know what you were thinking. That is why I came so early to see you. +You were blaming yourself for what has happened. That is not right. You +are not to blame at all. Do you think I gave you that promise for +nothing?"</p> + +<p>"You were always like that," she said in a low voice. "Very generous and +unselfish. Yes, I—I—was miserable; I thought if you had never known +me—"</p> + +<p>"If I had never known you! You think that would be a desirable thing for +me!—"</p> + +<p>But at this moment the hurried, anxious, half-whispered conversation had +to cease, for Madame Potecki came up. Nor was she surprised to find Mr. +Brand there. On the contrary, she said that her time was limited, and +that she could not expect other people to care for old porcelain as much +as she did; and if Mr. Brand would take her dear daughter Natalie to see +some pictures in the rooms up-stairs, she would come and find her out +by-and-by.</p> + +<p>"Not at all, dear madame," said Natalie, with some slight flush. "No. We +will go with you to see the three wonderful vases."</p> + +<p>So they went, and saw the three crackle vases, and many another piece of +porcelain and enamel and bronze; but always the clever little Polish +woman took care that she should be at some other case, so that she could +not overhear what these two had to say to each other. And they had +plenty to say.</p> + +<p>"Why, Natalie, where is your courage? What is the going to America? It +cannot be for ever and ever."</p> + +<p>"But even then," she said, in a low, hesitating voice. "If you were +never to see me again, you would blame me for it all. You would regret."</p> + +<p>"How can I regret that my life was made beautiful to me, if only for a +time? It was worth nothing to me before. And you are forgetting all +about the ring, and my promise to you."</p> + +<p>This light way of talking did not at all deceive her. What had been +torturing her all the night long was the fancy, the suspicion, that her +father was sending her lover to America, not solely with a view to the +work he should have to undertake there, but to insure a permanent +separation between <!-- Page 213 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span>herself and him. That was the cruel bit of it. And +she more than ever admired the manliness of this man, because he would +make no complaint to her. He had uttered no word of protest, for fear of +wounding her. He did not mention her father to her at all; but merely +treated this project of going to America as if it were a part of his +duty that had to be cheerfully accepted.</p> + +<p>"After I have once said good-bye to you Natalie" said he, "it will not +be so bad for me. I shall have my work."</p> + +<p>"When do you go?" she asked, with rather a white face.</p> + +<p>"I don't know yet. It may be a matter of days. You will let me see you +again, my darling—soon?"</p> + +<p>"I shall be here every morning, if you wish it" she answered.</p> + +<p>"To-morrow, then?"</p> + +<p>"To-morrow, at eleven. Anneli will come with me. I should have waited in +on the hope of seeing you this morning; but it was an old engagement +with Madame Potecki. Ah, how good she is! Do you see how she pretends to +be interested in those things?"</p> + +<p>"I will send her a present of some old china before I leave England," +said Brand.</p> + +<p>"No, no," said Natalie, with a faint smile appearing on the sad face. +"It would destroy her theory. She does not care for anything at home so +long as she possesses these public treasures. She is very content. +Indeed, she earns enough to be charitable. She has many poor +dependents."</p> + +<p>By-and-by Madame Potecki, with great evident reluctance, confessed that +she had to return, as one of her pupils would be at her house by +half-past twelve. But would not Mr. Brand take her dear adopted child to +see some of the pictures? It was a pity that she should be dragged away, +and so forth.</p> + +<p>But Natalie promptly put an end to these suggestions by saying that she +would prefer to return with Madame Potecki; and, it being now past +twelve, as soon as they got outside she engaged a cab. George Brand saw +them off, and then returned into the building. He wished to look again +at the objects she had looked at, to recollect every word she had +uttered; to recall the very tones in which she had spoken. And this +place was so hushed and quiet.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, as the occupants of the cab were journeying northward, +Natalie took occasion to say to her companion, with something of a +heightened color,</p> + +<p>"You must not imagine, dear madame, that I expected to <!-- Page 214 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span>see Mr. Brand at +the Museum when I promised to go with you."</p> + +<p>"But what if you had expected, my child?" said the good-natured +music-mistress. "What harm is there?"</p> + +<p>"But this morning I did expect him to come, and that is why I left the +message with Anneli," continued the girl. "Because, do you know, madame, +he is going to America; and when he goes I may not see him for many +years."</p> + +<p>"My child!" the demonstrative little woman exclaimed, catching hold of +the girl's hand.</p> + +<p>But Natalie was not inclined to be sympathetic at this moment.</p> + +<p>"Now I wish you, dear Madame Potecki," she continued in a firm voice, +"to do me a favor. I would rather not speak to my father about Mr. +Brand. I wish you to tell him for me that so long as Mr. Brand remains +in England I shall continue to see him; and that as I do not choose he +should come to my father's house, I shall see him as I saw him this +morning."</p> + +<p>"My love, my love, what a frightful duty! Is it necessary?"</p> + +<p>"It is necessary that my father should know, certainly."</p> + +<p>"But what responsibility!"</p> + +<p>"You have no responsibility whatever. Anneli will go with me. All that I +ask of you, dear Madame Potecki, is to take the message to my father. +You will; will you not?"</p> + +<p>"More than that I will do for you," said the little woman, boldly. "I +see there is unhappiness; you are suffering, my child. Well, I will +plunge into it; I will see your father: this cannot be allowed. It is a +dangerous thing to interfere—who knows better than I? But to sit near +you is to be inspired; to touch your hand is to gain the courage of a +giant. Yes, I will speak to your father; all shall be put right."</p> + +<p>The girl scarcely heard her.</p> + +<p>"There is another thing I would ask of you," she said, slowly and +wistfully, "but not here. May I come to you when the lesson is over?"</p> + +<p>"At two: yes."</p> + +<p>So it was that Natalie called on her friend shortly after two o'clock +and was shown into the little parlor. She was rather pale. She sat down +at one side of the table.</p> + +<p>"I wished to ask your advice, dear Madame Potecki," she said, in a low +voice, and with her eyes down. "Now you must suppose a case. You must +suppose that—that two people love each other—better—better than +anything else in the <!-- Page 215 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span>world, and that they are ready to sacrifice a +great deal for each other. Well, the man is ordered away! it is a +banishment from his own country, perhaps forever; and he is very brave +about it, and will not complain. Now you must suppose that the girl is +very miserable about his going away, and blames herself; and +perhaps—perhaps wishes—to do something to show she understands his +nobleness—his devotion; and she would do anything in the world, Madame +Potecki—to prove her love to him—"</p> + +<p>"But, child, child, why do you tremble so?"</p> + +<p>"I wish you to tell me, Madame Potecki—I wish you to tell +me—whether—you would consider it unwomanly—unmaidenly—for her to go +and say to him, 'You are too brave and unselfish to ask me to go with +you. Now I offer myself to you. If you must go, why not I—your wife?"</p> + +<p>Madame Potecki started up in great alarm.</p> + +<p>"Natalie, what do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"I only—wished to—to ask—what you would think."</p> + +<p>She was very pale, and her lips were tremulous; but she did not break +down. Madame Potecki was apparently far more agitated than she was.</p> + +<p>"My child, my child, I am afraid you are on the brink of some wild +thing!"</p> + +<p>"Is that that I have repeated to you what a girl ought to do?" Natalie +said, almost calmly. "Do you think it is what my mother would have done, +Madame Potecki? They have told me she was a brave woman."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXI" id="CHAPTER_XXXI"></a>CHAPTER XXXI.</h2> + +<h3>IN A GARDEN AT POSILIPO.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0" style="margin-left: -.5em">"—Prends mon coeur, me dit-elle,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Oui, mais a la chapelle,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Sois mon petit....<br /></span> +<span class="i5">—Plait-il<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Ton petit?<br /></span> +<span class="i3">—Sois mon petit mari!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<p>—It was Calabressa who was gayly humming to himself; and it was well +that he could amuse himself with his <i>chansons</i> and his cigarettes, for +his friend Edwards was proving anything but an attentive companion. The +tall, near-sighted, blond-faced man from the British Museum was far too +much <!-- Page 216 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span>engrossed by the scene around him. They were walking along the +quays at Naples; and it so happened that at this moment all the +picturesque squalor and lazy life of the place were lit up by the glare +reflected from a wild and stormy sunset. The tall, pink-fronted houses; +the mules and oxen with their brazen yokes and tinkling bells; the +fruit-sellers, and fish-sellers, and water-carriers, in costumes of many +hues; the mendicant friars with their cloak and hood of russet-brown; +the priests black and clean-shaven; the groups of women, swarthy of +face, with head-dresses of red or yellow, clustered round the stalls; +the children, in rags of brown, and scarlet, and olive-green, lying +about the pavement as if artists had posed them there—all these formed +a picture which was almost bewildering in its richness of color, and was +no doubt rendered all the more brilliant because of the powerful +contrast with the dark and driven sea. For the waters out there were +racing in before a stiff breeze, and springing high on the fortresses +and rocks; and the clouds overhead were seething and twisting, with many +a sudden flash of orange; and then, far away beyond all this color and +motion and change, rose the vast and gloomy bulk of Vesuvius, +overshadowed and thunderous, as if the mountain were charged with a +coming storm.</p> + +<p>Calabressa grew impatient, despite his careless song.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0" style="margin-left: -.5em">"—Me seras tu fidele....<br /></span> +<span class="i1">—Comme une tourterelle.<br /></span> +<span class="i3">—Eh bieu, ca va....<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Ca va!<br /></span> +<span class="i3">—Ca me va!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">—Comme ca, ca me va!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>—<i>Diable</i>, Monsieur Edouarts! You are very silent. You do not know +where we are going, perhaps?"</p> + +<p>Edwards started, as if he were waking from a reverie.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, Signor Calabressa," said he, "I am not likely to forget that. +Perhaps I think more seriously about it than you. To you it is nothing. +But I cannot forget, you see, that you and I are practically conniving +at a murder."</p> + +<p>"Hush, hush, my dear friend!" said Calabressa, glancing round. "Be +discreet! And what a foolish phrase, too! You—you whose business is +merely to translate; to preach; to educate a poor devil of a +Russian—what have you to do with it? And to speak of murder! Bah! You +do not understand the difference, then, between killing a man as an act +of private anger and revenge, and executing a man for crimes <!-- Page 217 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span>against +society? My good friend Edouarts, you have lived all your life among +books, but you have not learned any logic—no!"</p> + +<p>Edwards was not inclined to go into any abstract argument</p> + +<p>"I will do what I have been appointed to do," he said, curtly; "but that +cannot prevent my wishing that it had not to be done at all."</p> + +<p>"And who knows?" said Calabressa, lightly. "Perhaps, if you are so +fearful about your small share, your very little share—it is no more +than that of the garcon who helps one on with his coat: is he accessary, +too, if a rogue has to be punished?—is he responsible for the sentence, +also, if he brushes the boots of the judge?—or the servant of the court +who sweeps out the room, is he guilty if there is a miscarriage of +justice? No, no; my dear friend Edouarts, do not alarm yourself. Then, I +was saying, perhaps it may not be necessary, after all. You perceived, +my friend, that when the proposal of his eminence the Cardinal was +mentioned, the Secretary Granaglia smiled, and I, thoughtless, laughed. +You perceived it, did you not?"</p> + +<p>By this time they were in the Chiaja, beyond the Villa Reale; and there +were fewer people about. Calabressa stopped and confronted his +companion. For the purposes of greater emphasis, he rested his right +elbow in the palm of his left hand, while his forefinger was at the +point of his nose.</p> + +<p>"What?" said he, in this striking attitude, "what if we were both +fools—ha? The Secretary Granaglia and myself—what if we were both +fools?"</p> + +<p>Calabressa abandoned his pose, linked his arm within that of his +companion, and walked on with him.</p> + +<p>"Come, I will implant something in your mind. I will throw out a fancy; +it may take root and flourish; if not, who is the worse? Now, if the +Council were really to entertain that proposal of Zaccatelli?"</p> + +<p>He regarded his friend Edouarts.</p> + +<p>"You observed, I say, that Granaglia smiled: to him it was ludicrous. I +laughed: to me it was farcical—the chatter of a <i>bavard</i>. The Pope +become the patron of a secret society! The priests become our friends +and allies! Very well, my friend; but listen. The little minds see what +is absurd; the great minds are serious. Granaglia is a little devil of +courage; but he is narrow; he is practical; he has no imagination. I: +what am I?—careless, useless, also a <i>bavard</i>, if you will. But it +occurred to me, after all, when I began to think—what a <!-- Page 218 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span>great man, a +great mind, might say to this proposal. Take a man like Lind: see what +he could make of it! 'Do not laugh at it any more, Calabressa,' said I +to myself, 'until you hear the opinion of wiser men than yourself.'"</p> + +<p>He gripped Edwards's arm tight.</p> + +<p>"Listen. To become the allies of the priests it is not necessary to +believe everything the priests say. On the other hand, they need not +approve all that we are doing, if only they withdraw their opposition. +Do you perceive the possibility now? Do you think of the force of that +combination? The multitudes of the Catholics encouraged to join!—the +Vatican the friend and ally of the Council of the Seven Stars!"</p> + +<p>He spoke the last words in a low voice, but he were a proud look.</p> + +<p>"And if this proposal were entertained," said Edwards, meditatively, "of +course, they would abandon this other business."</p> + +<p>"My good friend," said Calabressa, confidentially, "I know that Lind, +who sees things with a large vision, is against it. He consents—as you +consent to do your little outside part—against his own opinion. More; +if he had been on the Council the decree would never have been granted, +though De Bedros and a dozen of his daughters had demanded it. +'Calabressa,' he said to me, 'it will do great mischief in England if it +is known that we are connected with it.' Well, you see, all this would +be avoided if they closed with the Cardinal's offer."</p> + +<p>"You are sanguine, Signor Calabressa," said the other.</p> + +<p>"Besides, the thirty thousand lire!"' said Calabressa, eagerly. "Do you +know what that is? Ah, you English have always too much money!"</p> + +<p>"No doubt," said Edwards, with a smile. "We are all up to the neck in +gold."</p> + +<p>"Thirty thousand lire a year, and the favor of the Vatican; what fools +Granaglia and I were to laugh! But perhaps we will find that the Council +were wiser."</p> + +<p>They had now got out to Posilipo, and the stormy sunset had waned, +leaving the sky overclouded and dusk. Calabressa, having first looked up +and down the road, stopped by the side of a high wall, over which +projected a number of the broken, gray-green, spiny leaves of the +cactus—a hedge at the foot of the terrace above.</p> + +<p>"<i>Peste!</i>" said he. "How the devil is one to find it out in the dark?"</p> + +<p>"Find what out?"</p> + +<p><!-- Page 219 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span></p><p>"My good friend," said he, in a whisper, "you are not able by chance to +see a bit of thread—a bit of red thread—tied round one of those big +leaves?"</p> + +<p>Edwards glanced up.</p> + +<p>"Not I."</p> + +<p>"Ah, well, we must run the risk. Perhaps by accident there may be a +meeting."</p> + +<p>They walked on for some time, Calabressa becoming more and more +watchful. They paused to let a man driving a wagon and a pair of oxen go +by; and then Calabressa, enjoining his companion to remain where he was, +went on alone.</p> + +<p>The changing sky had opened somewhat overhead, and there was a wan +twilight shining through the parted clouds. Edwards, looking after +Calabressa, could have fancied that the dark figure had disappeared like +a ghost; but the old albino had merely crossed the road, opened the one +half of a huge gate, and entered a garden.</p> + +<p>It was precisely like the gardens of the other villas along the +highway—cut in terraces along the steep side of the hill, with winding +pathways, and marble lions here and there, and little groves of orange +and olive and fig trees; while on one side the sheer descent was guarded +by an enormous cactus hedge. The ground was very unequal: on one small +plateau a fountain was playing—the trickling of the water the only +sound audible in the silence.</p> + +<p>Calabressa took out his pocket-book, and tore a leaf from it.</p> + +<p>"The devil!" he muttered to himself. "How is one to write in the dark?"</p> + +<p>But he managed to scrawl the word "Barsanti;" then he wrapped the paper +round a small pebble and approached the fountain. By putting one foot on +the edge of the stone basin beneath he could reach over to the curved +top, and there he managed to drop the missive into some aperture +concealed under the lip. He stepped back, dried his hand with his +handkerchief, and then went down one of the pathways to a lower level of +the garden.</p> + +<p>Here he easily found the entrance to an ordinary sort of grotto—a +narrow cave winding inward and ending in a piece of fancy rockwork down +which the water was heard to trickle. But he did not go to the end—he +stopped about half-way and listened. There was no sound whatever in the +dark, except the plash of the tiny water-fall.</p> + +<p>Then there was a heavy grating noise, and in the black wall before him +appeared a vertical line of orange light. This sudden gleam was so +bewildering to the eyes that Cala<!-- Page 220 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span>bressa could not see who it was that +come out to him; he only knew that the stranger waited for him to pass +on into the outer air.</p> + +<p>"It is cooler here. To your business, friend Calabressa."</p> + +<p>The moment Calabressa recognized this tall, military-looking man, with +the closely cropped bullet-head and long silver-white mustache, he +whipped off his cap, and said, anxiously,</p> + +<p>"A thousand pardons, Excellency! a thousand pardons! Do I interrupt? May +not I see Fossati?"</p> + +<p>"It is unnecessary. There is much business to-night. One must breathe +the air sometimes."</p> + +<p>Calabressa for once had completely lost his <i>sang-froid</i>. He could not +speak for stammering.</p> + +<p>"I assure you, your Excellency, it is death to me to think that I +interrupt you."</p> + +<p>"But why did you come, then, my friend? To the point."</p> + +<p>"Zaccatelli," the other managed to get out.</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"There was a proposal. Some days ago I saw Granaglia."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"Pardon me, Excellency. If I had known, not for worlds would I have +called you—"</p> + +<p>"Come, come my Calabressa," said the other, good-naturedly. "No more +apologies. What is it you have to say?—the proposal made by the +Cardinal? Yes; we know about that."</p> + +<p>"And it has not been accepted?—the decree remains?"</p> + +<p>"You waste your breath, my friend. The decree remains, certainly. We are +not children; we do not play. What more, my Calabressa?"</p> + +<p>But Calabressa had to collect his thoughts. Then he said, slowly,</p> + +<p>"It occurred to me when I was in England—there was a poor devil there +who would have thrown away his life in a useless act of revenge—well—"</p> + +<p>"Well, you brought him over here," said the other, interrupting him. +"Your object? Ah, Lind and you being old comrades; and Lind appearing to +you to be in a difficulty. But did Lind approve?"</p> + +<p>"Not quite," said Calabressa, still hesitating. "He allowed us to try. +He was doubtful himself."</p> + +<p>"I should have thought so," said the other, ironically. "No, good +Calabressa; we cannot accept the services of a maniac. The night has got +dark; I cannot see whether you are surprised. How do we know? The man +Kirski <!-- Page 221 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span>has been twice examined—once in Venice, once this morning, when +you went down to the <i>Luisa</i>; the reports the same. What! To have a +maniac blundering about the gates, attracting every one's notice by his +gibberish; then he is arrested with a pistol or a knife in his hand; he +talks nonsense about some Madonna; he is frightened into a confession, +and we become the laughing-stock of Europe! Impossible, impossible, my +Calabressa: where were your wits? No wonder Lind was doubtful—"</p> + +<p>"The man is capable of being taught," said Calabressa, humbly.</p> + +<p>"We need not waste more breath, my friend. To-night Lind will be +reminded why it was necessary that the execution of this decree was +intrusted to the English section: he must not send any Russian madman to +compromise us."</p> + +<p>"Then I must take him back, your Excellency!"</p> + +<p>"No; send him back—with the English scholar. You will remain in Naples, +Calabressa. There is something stirring that will interest you."</p> + +<p>"I am at your service, Excellency."</p> + +<p>"Good-night, dear friend."</p> + +<p>The figure beside him had disappeared almost before he had time to +return the salutation, and he was left to find his way down to the gate, +taking care not to run unawares on one of the long cactus spines. He +discovered Edwards precisely where he had left him.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Monsieur Edouarts, now you may clap your hands—now you may shout +an English 'hurrah!' For you, at all events, there is good news."</p> + +<p>"That project has been abandoned, then?" said Edwards, eagerly.</p> + +<p>"No, no, no!" said Calabressa, loftily; as if he had never entertained +such a possibility. "Do you think the Council is to be played with—is +to be bribed by so many and so many lire? No, no. Its decree is +inviolable."</p> + +<p>"Well, then?"</p> + +<p>"Well, then, some stupidities of our Russian friend have saved you: they +know everything, these wonderful people: they say, 'No; we will not +trust the affair to a madman.' Do you perceive? What you have to do now +is to take Kirski back to England."</p> + +<p>"And I am not wanted any longer?" said the other, with the same +eagerness.</p> + +<p>"I presume not. I am. I remain in Naples. For you, <!-- Page 222 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span>you are free. Away +to England! I give you my blessing; and to-night—to-night you will give +me a bottle of wine."</p> + +<p>But presently he added, as they still walked on,</p> + +<p>"Friend Edouarts, do you think I should be humiliated because my little +plan has been refused? No: it was born of idleness. My freedom was new +to me; over in England I had nothing to do. And when Lind objected, I +talked him over. <i>Peste</i>, if those fellows of Society had not got at the +Russian, all might have been well."</p> + +<p>"You will forgive my pointing out," said Edwards, in quite a facetious +way, "that all would not have been so well with me, for one. I am very +glad to be able to wash my hands of it. You shall have not only one but +two bottles of wine with supper, if you please."</p> + +<p>"Well, friend Edouarts. I bring you the good news, but I am not the +author of it. No; I must confess, I would rather have had my plan +carried out. But what matter? One does one's best from time to time—the +hours go by—at the end comes sleep, and no one can torment you more."</p> + +<p>They walked on for a time in silence. And now before them lay the +wonderful sight of Naples ablaze with a dusky yellow radiance in the +dark; and far away beyond the most distant golden points, high up in the +black deeps of the sky, the constant, motionless, crimson glow of +Vesuvius told them where the peaks of the mountain, themselves unseen +towered above the sea.</p> + +<p>By-and-by they plunged into the great murmuring city.</p> + +<p>"You are going back to England, Monsieur Edouarts. You will take Kirski +to Mr. Brand, he will be reinstated in his work; Englishmen do not +forget their promises. Then I have another little commission for you."</p> + +<p>He went into one of the small jeweller's shops, and, after a great deal +of haggling—for his purse was not heavy, and he knew the ways of his +countrymen—he bought a necklace of pink coral. It was carefully wrapped +in wool and put into a box. Then they went outside again.</p> + +<p>"You will give this little present, my good friend Edouarts—you will +take it, with my compliments, to my beautiful, noble child Natalie; and +you will tell her that it did not cost much, but it is only a +message—to show her that Calabressa still thinks of her, and loves, her +always."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><!-- Page 223 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXII" id="CHAPTER_XXXII"></a>CHAPTER XXXII.</h2> + +<h3>FRIEND AND SWEETHEART.</h3> + + +<p>Madame Potecki was a useful enough adviser in the small and ordinary +affairs of every-day life, but face to face with a great emergency she +became terrified and helpless.</p> + +<p>"My dear, my dear," she kept repeating, in a flurried sort of way, "you +must not do anything rash—you must not do anything wild. Oh, my dear, +take care! it is so wicked for children to disobey their parents!"</p> + +<p>"I am no longer a child, Madame Potecki; I am a woman: I know what seems +to me just and unjust; and I only wish to do right." She was now quite +calm. She had mastered that involuntary tremulousness of the lips. It +was the little Polish lady who was agitated.</p> + +<p>"My dear Natalie, I will go to your father. I said I would go—even with +your message—though it is a frightful task. But how can I tell him that +you have this other project in your mind? Oh, my dear, be cautious! +don't do anything you will have to repent of in after-years!"</p> + +<p>"You need not tell him, dear Madame Potecki, if you are alarmed," said +the girl. "I will tell him myself, when I have come to a decision. So +you cannot say what one ought to do in such circumstances? You cannot +tell me what my mother, for example, would have done in such a case?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I can; I can, my dear," said the other, eagerly. "At least I can +tell you what is best and safest. Is it not for a girl to go by her +father's advice—her father's wishes? Then she is safe. Anything else is +wild, dangerous. My dear, you are far too impulsive. You do not think of +consequences. It is all the affair of the moment with you, and how you +can do some one you love a kindness at the instant. Your heart is warm, +and you are quick to act. All the more reason, I say, that you should go +by some one else's judgment; and who can guide you better than your own +father?"</p> + +<p>"I know already what my father wishes," said Natalie.</p> + +<p>"Then why not go by that, my dear? Be sure it is the safest. Do you +think I would take it on me to say otherwise? Ah, my clear child, +romance is very beautiful at your age; but one may sacrifice too much +for it."</p> + +<p>"It is not a question of romance at all," said Natalie, looking down. +"It is a question of what it is right that a girl <!-- Page 224 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span>should do, in +faithfulness to one whom she loves. But perhaps it is better not to +argue it, for one sees so differently at different ages. And I am very +grateful to you, dear Madame Potecki, for agreeing to take that message +to my father; but I will tell him myself."</p> + +<p>She rose. The little woman came instantly and caught her by both hands.</p> + +<p>"Is my child going to quarrel with me because I am old and +unsympathetic?"</p> + +<p>"Oh no; do not think that!" said Natalie, quickly.</p> + +<p>"What you say is quite true, my dear; different ages see differently. +When I was at your age, perhaps I was as liable as anyone to let my +heart get the better of my head. And do I regret it?" The little woman +sighed. "Many a time they warned me against marrying one who did not +stand well with the authorities. But I—I had my opinions, too; I was a +patriot, like the rest. We were all mad with enthusiasm. Ah, the secret +meetings in Warsaw!—the pride of them!—we girls would not marry one +who was not a patriot. But that is all over now; and here am I an old +woman, with nothing left but my old masters, and my china, and my 'One, +two, three, four; one, two, three, four.'"</p> + +<p>Here a knock outside warned Natalie that she must leave, another pupil, +no doubt, having arrived; and so she bade good-bye to her friend, not +much enlightened or comforted by her counsel.</p> + +<p>That evening Mr. Lind brought Beratinsky home with him to dinner—an +unusual circumstance, for at one time Beratinsky had wished to become a +suitor for Natalie's hand, and had had that project very promptly +knocked on the head by Lind himself. Thereafter he had come but seldom +to the house, and never without a distinct invitation. On this evening +the two men talked almost exclusively between themselves, and Natalie +was not sorry to be allowed to remain an inattentive listener. She was +thinking of other things.</p> + +<p>When Beratinsky had gone, Lind turned to his daughter, and said to her +pleasantly,</p> + +<p>"Well, Natalie, what have you been about to-day?"</p> + +<p>"First of all," said she, regarding him with those fearless eyes of +hers, "I went to South Kensington Museum with Madame Potecki. Mr. Brand +was there."</p> + +<p>His manner changed instantly.</p> + +<p>"By appointment?" he said, sharply.</p> + +<p>"No," she answered. "I thought he would call here, and I told Anneli +where we had gone."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 225 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span></p><p>Lind betrayed no expression of annoyance. He only said, coldly,</p> + +<p>"Last night I told you it was my wish that he and you should have no +further communication with each other."</p> + +<p>"Yes; but is it reasonable, is it fair, is it possible, papa?" she said, +forgetting for a moment her forced composure. "Do you think I can forget +why he is going away?"</p> + +<p>"Apparently you do not know why he is going away," her father said. "He +is going to America because his duty commands that he should; because he +has work to do there of more importance than sentimental entanglements +in this country. He understands himself the necessity of his going."</p> + +<p>The girl's cheeks burnt red, and she sat silent. How could she accuse +her own father of prevarication? But the crisis was a momentous one.</p> + +<p>"You forget, papa," she said at length, in a low voice, "that when you +returned from abroad and got Mr. Brand's letter, you came to me. You +said that if there was any further question of a—a marriage—between +Mr. Brand and myself, you would have to send him to America. I was to be +the cause of his banishment."</p> + +<p>"I spoke hastily—in anger," her father said, with some impatience. +"Quite apart from any such question, Mr. Brand knows that it is of great +importance some one like himself should go to Philadelphia; and at the +moment I don't see any one who could do as well. Have you anything +further to say?"</p> + +<p>"No, papa—except good night." She kissed him on the forehead and went +away to her own room.</p> + +<p>That was a night of wild unrest for Natalie Lind. It was her father +himself who had represented to her all that banishment from his native +country meant to an Englishman; and in her heart of hearts she believed +that it was through her this doom had befallen George Brand. She knew he +would not complain. He professed to her that it was only in the +discharge of an ordinary duty he was leaving England: others had +suffered more for less reason; it was nothing; why should she blame +herself? But all the same, through this long, restless, agonizing night +she accused herself of having driven him from his country and his +friends, of having made an exile of him. And again and again she put +before herself the case she had submitted to Madame Potecki; and again +and again she asked herself what her own mother would have done, with +her lover going away to a strange land.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 226 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span></p><p>In the morning, long before it was light, and while as yet she had not +slept for a second, she rose, threw a dressing-gown round her, lit the +gas, and went to the little escritoire that stood by the window. Her +hand was trembling when she sat down to write, but it was not with the +cold. There was a proud look on her face. This was what she wrote:</p> + +<p>"My lover and husband,—You are going away from your own country, +perhaps forever; and I think it is partly through me that all this has +happened. What can I do? Only this; that I offer to go with you, if you +will take me. I am your wife; why should you go alone?"'</p> + +<p>There was no signature. She folded the paper, and placed it in an +envelope, and carefully locked it up. Then she put out the light and +went back to bed again, and fell into a sound, happy, contented +sleep—the untroubled sleep of a child.</p> + +<p>Then in the morning how bright and light-hearted she was!</p> + +<p>Anneli could not understand this change that had suddenly come over her +young mistress. She said little, but there was a happy light on her +face; she sung "Du Schwert an meiner Linken" in snatches, as she was +dressing her hair; and she presented Anneli with a necklace of Turkish +silver coins.</p> + +<p>She was down at South Kensington Museum considerably before eleven +o'clock. She idly walked Anneli through the various rooms, pointing out +to her this and that; and as the little Dresden maid had not been in the +Museum before, her eyes were wide open at the sight of such beautiful +things. She was shown masses of rich tapestry and cases of Japanese +lacquer-work; she was shown collections of ancient jewellery and glass; +she went by sunny English landscapes, and was told the story of solemn +cartoons. In the midst of it all George Brand appeared; and the little +German girl, of her own accord, and quite as deftly as Madame Potecki, +devoted herself to the study of some screens of water-colors, just as if +she were one of the Royal Academy pupils.</p> + +<p>"We have been looking over Madame Potecki's treasures once more," said +Natalie. He was struck by the happy brightness of her face.</p> + +<p>"Ah, indeed!" said he; and he went and brought a couple of chairs, that +together they might regard, if they were so minded, one of those vast +cartoons. "Well, I have good news, Natalie. I do not start until a clear +week hence. <!-- Page 227 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span>So we shall have six mornings here—six mornings all to +ourselves. Do you know what that means to me?"</p> + +<p>She took the chair he offered her. She did not look appalled by this +intelligence of his early departure.</p> + +<p>"It means six more days of happiness: and do you not think I shall look +back on them with gratitude? And there is not to be a word said about my +going. No; it is <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: "underderstood" in the original text"> +understood</ins> that we cut +off the past and the future for these six days. We are here; we can +speak to each other; that is enough."'</p> + +<p>"But how can one help thinking of the future?" said she, with a mock +mournfulness. "You are going away alone."</p> + +<p>"No, not quite alone."</p> + +<p>She looked up quickly.</p> + +<p>"Why, you know what Evelyn is—the best-hearted of friends," he said to +her. "He insists on going over to America with me, and even talks of +remaining a year or two. He pretends to be anxious to study American +politics."</p> + +<p>He could not understand why she laughed—though it was a short, quick, +hysterical laugh, very near to tears.</p> + +<p>"You remind me of one of Mr. Browning's poems," she said, half in +apology. "It is about a man who has a friend and a sweetheart. You don't +remember it, perhaps?"</p> + +<p>He thought for a moment.</p> + +<p>"The fact is," he said, "that when I think of Browning's poems, all +along the line of them, there are some of them seem to burn like fire, +and I cannot see the others."</p> + +<p>"This is a very modest little one," said she. "It is a poor poet +starving in a garret; and he tells you he has a friend beyond the sea; +and he knows that if he were to fall ill, and to wake up out of his +sickness, he would find his friend there, tending him like the gentlest +of nurses, even though he got nothing but grumblings about his noisy +boots. And the—the poor fellow—"</p> + +<p>She paused for a second.</p> + +<p>"He goes on to tell about his sweetheart—who has ruined him—to whom he +has sacrificed his life and his peace and fame—and what would she do? +He says,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6" style="margin-left: -1em">"'She<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—I'll tell you—calmly would decree<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I should roast at a slow fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If that would compass her desire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And make her one whom they invite<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the famous ball to-morrow night.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><!-- Page 228 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span></p><p>That is—the difference—between a friend and a sweetheart—"</p> + +<p>He did not notice that she spoke rather uncertainly, and that her eyes +were wet.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, Natalie?"</p> + +<p>"That it is a good thing for you that you have a friend. There is one, +at all events—who will—who will not let you go away alone."</p> + +<p>"My darling!" he said, "what new notion is this you have got into your +head? You do not blame yourself for that too? Why, you see, it is a very +simple thing for Lord Evelyn, who is an idle man, and has no particular +ties binding him, to spend a few months in the States; and when he once +finds out that the voyage across is one of the pleasantest holidays a +man can take, I have no doubt I shall see him often enough. Now, don't +let us talk any more about that—except this one point. Have you +promised your father that you will not write to me?"</p> + +<p>"Oh no; how could I?"</p> + +<p>"And may I write to you?"</p> + +<p>"I shall live from week to week expecting your letters," she said +simply.</p> + +<p>"Then we shall not say another word about it," said he, lightly. "We +have six days to be together: no one can rob us of them. Come, shall we +go and have a look at the English porcelain that is on this floor? We +have whole heaps of old Chelsea and Crown Derby and that kind of thing +at the Beeches: I think I must try and run down there before I go, and +send you some. What use is it to me?"</p> + +<p>"Oh no, I hope you won't do that," she said quickly, as she rose.</p> + +<p>"You don't care about it, perhaps?"</p> + +<p>She seemed embarrassed for a moment.</p> + +<p>"For old china?" she said, after a moment. "Oh yes, I do. But—but—I +think you may find something happen that would make it unnecessary—I +mean it is very kind of you—but I hope you will not think of sending me +any."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean? What is about to happen?"</p> + +<p>"It is all a mystery and a secret as yet," she said, with a smile. She +seemed so much more light-hearted than she had been the day before.</p> + +<p>Then, as they walked by those cases, and admired this or that, she would +recur to this forth-coming departure of his, despite of him. And she was +not at all sad about it. She was curious; that was all. Was there any +difficulty in getting <!-- Page 229 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span>a cabin at short notice? It was from Liverpool +the big steamers sailed, was it not? And it was a very different thing, +she understood, travelling in one of those huge vessels, and crossing +the Channel in a little cockle-shell. He would no doubt make many +friends on board. Did single ladies ever make the voyage? Could a single +lady and her maid get a cabin to themselves? It would not be so very +tedious, if one could get plenty of books. And so forth, and so forth. +She did not study the Chelsea shepherdesses very closely.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you what I wish you would do, Natalie," said he.</p> + +<p>"I will do it," she answered.</p> + +<p>"When Lord Evelyn comes back—some day I wish you would take Anneli with +you for a holiday—and Evelyn would take you down to have a look over +the Beeches. You could be back the same night. I should like you to see +my mother's portrait."</p> + +<p>She did not answer.</p> + +<p>"Will you do that?"</p> + +<p>"You will know before long," she said, in a low voice, "why I need not +promise that to you. But that, or anything else I am willing to do, if +you wish it."</p> + +<p>The precious moments sped quickly. And as they walked through the almost +empty rooms—how silent these were, with the occasional foot-falls on +the tiled floors, and once or twice the distant sounding of a bell +outside!—again and again he protested against her saying another word +about his going away. What did it matter? Once the pain of parting was +over, what then? He had a glad work before him. She must not for a +moment think she had anything to do with it. And he could not regret +that he had ever met her, when he would have these six mornings of happy +intercommunion to think over, when the wide seas separated them?</p> + +<p>"Natalie," said he, reproachfully, "do you forget the night you and I +heard <i>Fidelio</i> together? And you think I shall regret ever having seen +you."</p> + +<p>She smiled to herself. Her hand clasped a certain envelope that he could +not see.</p> + +<p>Then the time came for their seeking out Anneli. But as they were going +through the twilight of a corridor she stopped him, and her usually +frank eyes were downcast. She took out that envelope.</p> + +<p>"Dearest," she said, almost inaudibly, "this is something I wish you to +read after Anneli and I am gone. I think you will—you will not +misunderstand me. If you think—it is—it is too bold, you will remember +that I have—no mother to <!-- Page 230 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span>advise me; and—and you will be kind, and not +answer. Then I shall know."</p> + +<p>Ten minutes thereafter he was standing alone, in the broad daylight +outside, reading the lines she had written early that morning, and in +every one of them he read the firm and noble character of the woman he +loved. He was almost bewildered by the proud-spirited frankness of her +message to him; and involuntarily he thought of the poor devil of a poet +in the garret who spoke of his faithful friend and his worthless +mistress.</p> + +<p>"One is fortunate indeed to have a friend like Evelyn," he said to +himself. "But when and has, besides that, the love of a woman like +this—then the earth holds something worth living for."</p> + +<p>He looked at the brief, proud, pathetic message again—"<i>I am your wife: +why should you go alone?</i>" It was Natalie herself speaking in every +word.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXIII.</h2> + +<h3>INTERVENTION.</h3> + + +<p>The more that Madame Potecki thought over the communication made to her +by Natalie, the more alarmed she became. Her pupils received but a very +mechanical sort of guidance that afternoon. All through the "One, two, +three, four; one, two, three, four" she was haunted by an uneasy +consciousness that her protest had not been nearly strong enough. The +girl had not seemed in the least impressed by her counsel. And suppose +this wild project were indeed carried out, might not she, that is, +Madame Potecki, be regarded as an accomplice if she remained silent and +did not intervene?</p> + +<p>On the other hand, although she and Ferdinand Lind were friends of many +years standing, she had never quite got over a certain fear of him. She +guessed pretty well what underlay that pleasant, plausible exterior of +his. And she was not at all sure that, if she went to Mr. Lind and told +him that in such and such circumstances his daughter meant to go to +America as the wife of George Brand, the first outburst of his anger +might not fall on herself. She was an intermeddler. What concern of hers +was it? He might even accuse her of having connived at the whole affair, +especially during his absence in Philadelphia.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 231 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span></p><p>But after all, the little Polish lady was exceedingly fond of this +girl; and she resolved to go at all hazards and see whether something +could not be done to put matters straight. She would call at the +chambers in Lisle Street, and make sure of seeing Mr. Lind alone. She +would venture to remind him that his daughter was grown up—a woman, not +to be treated as a child. As she had been altogether on the father's +side in arguing with Natalie, so she would be altogether on the +daughter's side in making these representations to Mr. Lind. Perhaps +some happy compromise would result.</p> + +<p>She was, however, exceedingly nervous when, on the following afternoon, +she called at Lisle Street, and was preceded up-stairs by the stout old +German. In the room into which she was shown Reitzei was seated. Reitzei +received her very graciously; they were old friends. But although Madame +Potecki on ordinary occasions was fond of listening to the sound of her +own voice, she seemed now quite incapable of saying anything. Reitzei +had been fortunate enough to hear the new barytone sing at a private +house on the previous evening; she did not even ask what impression had +been produced.</p> + +<p>Then Mr. Lind came into the room, and Reitzei left.</p> + +<p>"How do you do, Madame Potecki?" said he, somewhat curtly.</p> + +<p>She took it that he was offended because she had come on merely private +affairs to his place of <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: "buisness" in the original text"> +business</ins>; and this did +not tend to lessen her embarrassment. However, she made a brave plunge.</p> + +<p>"You are surprised," she said, "to find me calling upon you here, are +you not? Yes; but I will explain. You see, my dear friend, I wished to +see you alone—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, Madame Potecki; I understand. What is your news?"</p> + +<p>"It is—about Natalie," she managed to say, and then all the methods of +beginning that she had studied went clean out of her mind; and she was +reduced to an absolute silence.</p> + +<p>He did not seem in the least impatient.</p> + +<p>"Yes; about Natalie?" he repeated, taking up a paper-knife, and +beginning to write imaginary letters on the leather of the desk before +him.</p> + +<p>"You will say to me, 'Why do you interfere?'" the little woman managed +to say at last. "Meddlers do harm; they are not thanked. But then, my +dear friend, Natalie is like my own child to me; for her what would I +not do?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Lind could not fail to see that his visitor was very <!-- Page 232 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span>nervous and +agitated: perhaps it was to give her time to compose herself that he +said, leisurely,</p> + +<p>"Yes, Madame Potecki; I know that you and she are great friends; and it +is a good thing that the child should have some one to keep her company; +perhaps she is a little too much alone. Well, what do you wish to say +about her? You run no risk with me. You will not be misunderstood. I +know you are not likely to say anything unkind about Natalie."</p> + +<p>"Unkind!" she exclaimed; and now she had recovered herself somewhat. +"Who could do that? Oh no, my dear friend; oh no!"</p> + +<p>Here was another awkward pause.</p> + +<p>"My dear Madame Potecki," said Mr. Lind, with a smile, "shall I speak +for you? You do not like to say what you have come to say. Shall I speak +for you? This is it, is it not? You have become aware of that +entanglement that Natalie has got into. Very well. Perhaps she has told +you. Perhaps she has told you also that I have forbidden her to have any +communication with—well, let us speak frankly—Mr. Brand. Very well. +You go with her to the South Kensington Museum; you meet Mr. Brand +there. Naturally you think if that comes to my ears I shall suspect you +of having planned the meeting; and you would rather come and assure me +that you had nothing to do with it. Is it so?"</p> + +<p>"My dear friend," said Madame Potecki, quickly, "I did not come to you +about myself at all! What am I? What matters what happens to an old +woman like me? It is not about myself, it is about Natalie that I have +come to you. Ah, the dear, beautiful child!—how can one see her +unhappy, and not try to do something? Why should she be unhappy? She is +young, beautiful, loving; my dear friend, do you wonder that she has a +sweetheart?—and one who is so worthy of her, too: one who is not +selfish, who has courage, who will be kind to her. Then I said to +myself, 'Ah, what a pity to have father and daughter opposed to each +other!' Why might not one step in and say, 'Come, and be friends. You +love each other: do not have this coldness that makes a young heart so +miserable!'"</p> + +<p>She had talked quickly and eagerly at last; she was trembling with +excitement, she had her eyes fixed on his face to catch the first +symptom of acquiescence.</p> + +<p>But, on the contrary, Mr. Lind remained quite impassive, and he said, +coldly,</p> + +<p>"This is a different matter altogether, Madame Potecki. <!-- Page 233 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span>I do not blame +you for interfering; but I must tell you at once that your interference +is not likely to be of much use. You see, there are reasons which I +cannot explain to you, but which are very serious, why any proposal of +marriage between Mr. Brand and Natalie is not to be entertained for a +moment. The thing is quite impossible. Very well. She knows this; she +knows that I wish all communication between them to cease; nevertheless, +she says she will see him every day until he goes. How can you wonder +that she is unhappy? Is it not her own doing?"</p> + +<p>"If she was in reality my child, that is not the way I would speak," +said the little woman, boldly.</p> + +<p>"Unfortunately, my dear Madame Potecki," said Mr. Lind, blandly, "I +cannot, as I say, explain to you the reasons which make such a marriage +impossible, or you yourself would say it was impossible. Very well, +then. If you wish to do a service to your friend Natalie—if you wish to +see her less unhappy, you know what advice to give her. A girl who +perseveres in wilful disobedience is not likely to be very contented in +her mind."</p> + +<p>Madame Potecki sat silent and perplexed. This man seemed so firm, so +reasonable, so assured, it was apparently hopeless to expect any +concession from him. And yet what was the use of her going away merely +to repeat the advice she had already given?</p> + +<p>"And in any case," he continued, lightly, "it is not an affair for you +to be deeply troubled about, my dear Madame Potecki; on the contrary, it +is a circumstance of little moment. If Natalie chooses to indulge this +sentiment—well, the fate of empires does not hang on it, and in a +little while it will be all right. Youth soon recovers from small +disappointments; the girl is not morbid or melancholy. Moreover, she has +plenty to occupy her mind with: do not fear that she will be permanently +unhappy."</p> + +<p>All this gave Natalie's friend but scant consolation. She knew something +of the girl, she knew it was not a light matter that had made her +resolve to share banishment with her lover rather than that he should +depart alone.</p> + +<p>"Yes, she is acting contrary to my wishes," continued Mr. Lind, who saw +that his visitor was anxious and chagrined. "But why should you vex +yourself with that, my dear madame?—why, indeed? It is only for a few +days. When Mr. Brand leaves for America, then she will settle down to +her old ways. This episode of sentiment will soon be forgotten. Do not +<!-- Page 234 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span>fear for your friend Natalie; she has a healthy constitution; she is +not likely to sigh away her life."</p> + +<p>"But you do not understand, Mr. Lind!" Madame Potecki exclaimed +suddenly. "You do not understand. When he leaves for America, there is +to be an end? No! You are not aware, then, that if he goes to America, +Natalie will go also?"</p> + +<p>She had spoken quickly, breathlessly, not taking much notice of her +words, but she was appalled by the effect they produced. Lind started, +as if he had been struck; and for a second, as he regarded her, the eyes +set under the heavy brows burnt like coals, and she noticed a curious +paleness in his face, especially in the lips. But this lasted only for +an instant. When he spoke, he was quite calm, and was apparently +considering each word.</p> + +<p>"Are you authorized to bring me this message?" he said, slowly.</p> + +<p>"Oh no; oh no!" the little woman exclaimed. "I assure you, my dear +friend, I came to you because I thought something was about to +happen—something that might be prevented. Ah, you don't know how I love +that darling child; and to see her unhappy, and resolved, perhaps, to +make some great mistake in her life, how could I help interfering?"</p> + +<p>"So," continued Lind, apparently weighing every word, "this is what she +is bent on! If Brand goes to America, she will go with him?"</p> + +<p>"I—I—am afraid so," stammered Madame Potecki. "That is what I gathered +from her—though it was only an imaginary case she spoke of. But she was +pale, and trembling, and how could I stand by and not do something?"</p> + +<p>He did not answer; his lips were firm set. Unconsciously he was pressing +the point of the paper-knife into the leather; it snapped in two. He +threw the pieces aside, and said, with a sudden lightness of manner,</p> + +<p>"Ah, well, my dear madame, you know young people are sometimes very +headstrong, and difficult to manage. We must see what can be done in +this case. You have not told Natalie you were coming to me?"</p> + +<p>"No. She asked me at first; then she said she would tell you herself."</p> + +<p>He regarded her for a second.</p> + +<p>"There is no reason why you should say you have been here?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps not, perhaps not," Madame Potecki said, doubt<!-- Page 235 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span>fully. "No; there +is no necessity. But if one were sure that the dear child were to be +made any happier—"</p> + +<p>She did not complete the sentence.</p> + +<p>"I think you may leave the whole affair in my hands, my dear Madame +Potecki," said Lind, in his usual courteous fashion. He spoke, indeed, +as if it were a matter of the most trifling importance. "I think I can +promise you that Natalie shall not be allowed to imperil the happiness +of her life by taking any rash steps. In the mean time, I am your debtor +that you have come and told me. It was considerate of you, Madame +Potecki; I am obliged to you."</p> + +<p>The little woman was practically dismissed. She rose, still doubtful, +and hesitated. But what more could she say?</p> + +<p>"I am not to tell her, then?" she said.</p> + +<p>"If you please, not."</p> + +<p>When he had graciously bowed her out, he returned to his seat at the +desk; and then the forced courtesy of his manner was abandoned. His +brows gathered down; his lips were again firm set; he bent one of the +pieces of the paper-knife until that snapped too; and when some one +knocked at the door, he answered sharply in German.</p> + +<p>It was Gathorne Edwards who entered.</p> + +<p>"Well, you have got back?" he said, with but scant civility. "Where is +Calabressa?"</p> + +<p>The tall, pale, stooping man looked round with some caution.</p> + +<p>"There is no one—no one but Reitzei," said Lind, impatiently.</p> + +<p>"Calabressa is detained in Naples—the General's orders," said the +other, in rather a low voice. "I did not write—I thought it was not +safe to put anything on paper; more especially as we discovered that +Kirski was being watched."</p> + +<p>"No wonder," said Lind, scornfully. "A fool of a madman being taken +about by a fool of a mountebank!"</p> + +<p>Edwards stared at him. Surely this man, who was usually the most +composed, and impenetrable, and suave of men, must have been +considerably annoyed thus to give way to a petulant temper.</p> + +<p>"But the result, Edwards: well?"</p> + +<p>"Refused!"</p> + +<p>Lind laughed sardonically.</p> + +<p>"Who could have doubted? Of course the council do not think that I +approved of that mad scheme?"</p> + +<p>"At all events, sir," said Edwards, submissively, "you permitted it."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 236 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span></p><p>"Permitted it! Yes; to please old Calabressa, who imagines himself a +diplomatist. But who could have doubted what the end would be? Well, +what further?"</p> + +<p>"I understand that a message is on its way to you from the council," +said the other, speaking in still lower tones, "giving further +instructions. They consider it of great importance that—it—should be +done by one of the English section; so that no one may imagine it arises +from a private revenge."</p> + +<p>Lind was toying with one of the pieces of the broken paper-knife.</p> + +<p>"Zaccatelli has had the warning," Edwards continued. "Granaglia took it. +The Cardinal is mad with fright—will do anything."</p> + +<p>Lind seemed to rouse himself with an effort.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, friend Edwards. I did not hear. What were you +saying?"</p> + +<p>"I was saying that the Cardinal had had the decree announced to him, and +is mad with fear, and he will do anything. He offers thirty thousand +lire a year; not only that, but he will try to get his Holiness to give +his countenance to the Society. Fancy, as Calabressa says, what the +world would say to an alliance between the Vatican and the SOCIETY OF +THE SEVEN STARS!"</p> + +<p>Lind seemed incapable of paying attention to this new visitor, so +absorbed was he in his own thoughts. He had again to rouse himself +forcibly.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, "you were saying, friend Edwards, that the Starving +Cardinal had become aware of the decree. Yes; well, then?"</p> + +<p>"Did you not hear, sir? He thinks there should be an alliance between +the Vatican and the Society."</p> + +<p>"His Eminence is jocular, considering how near he is to the end of his +life," said Lind, absently.</p> + +<p>"Further," Edwards continued, "he has sent back the daughter of old De +Bedros, who, it seems, first claimed the decree against him; and he is +to give her a dowry of ten thousand lire when she marries. But all these +promises and proposals do not seem to have weighed much with the +council."</p> + +<p>Here Edwards stopped. He perceived plainly that Lind—who sat with his +brows drawn down, and a sombre look on his face—was not listening to +him at all. Presently Lind rose, and said,</p> + +<p>"My good Edwards, I have some business of serious importance to attend +to at once. Now you will give me the re<!-- Page 237 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span>port of your journey some other +time. To-night—at nine o'clock?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir; if that will suit you."</p> + +<p>"Can you come to my house in Curzon Street at nine?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, certainly."</p> + +<p>"Very well. I am your debtor. But stay a moment. Of course, I understand +from you that nothing that has happened interferes with the decree +against our excellent friend the Cardinal?"</p> + +<p>"So it appears."</p> + +<p>"The Council are not to be bought over by idle promises?"</p> + +<p>"Apparently not."</p> + +<p>"Very well. Then you will come to-night at nine; in my little study +there will be no interruption; you can give me all the details of your +holiday. Ha, my friend Edwards," he added more pleasantly, as he opened +the door for his visitor, "would it not be better for you to give up +that Museum altogether, and come over to us? Then you would have many a +pleasant little trip."</p> + +<p>"I suspect the Museum is most likely to give me up," said Edwards, with +a laugh, as he descended the narrow twilight stairs.</p> + +<p>Then Lind returned to his desk, and sat down. A quarter of an hour +afterward, when Reitzei came into the room, he found him still sitting +there, without any papers whatsoever before him. The angry glance that +Lind directed to him as he entered told him that the master did not wish +to be disturbed; so he picked up a book of reference by way of excuse, +and retreated into the farther room, leaving Lind once more alone.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXXIV.</h2> + +<h3>AN ENCOUNTER.</h3> + + +<p>This was an October morning, in the waning of the year; and yet so +bright and clear and fresh was it, even in the middle of London, that +one could have imagined the spring had returned. The world was full of a +soft diffused light, from the pale clouds sailing across the blue to the +sheets of silver widening out on the broad bosom of the Thames; but here +and there the sun caught some shining surface—the lip of a marble +fountain, the glass of a lamp on the Embankment, or <!-- Page 238 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span>the harness of some +merchant-prince's horses prancing into town—and these were sharp +jewel-like gleams amidst the vague general radiance. The air was sweet +and clear; the white steam blown from the engines on Hungerford Bridge +showed that the wind was westerly. Two lovers walked below, in the +Embankment gardens, probably listening but little to the murmur of the +great city around them. Surely the spring had come again, and youth and +love and hope! The solitary occupant of this chamber that overlooked the +gardens and the shining river did not stay to ask why his heart should +be so full of gladness, why this beautiful morning should yield him so +much delight. He was thinking chiefly that on such a morning Natalie +would be abroad soon; she loved the sunlight and the sweet air.</p> + +<p>It was far too fine a morning, indeed, to spend in a museum, even with +all Madame Potecki's treasures spread out before one. So, instead of +going to South Kensington, he went straight up to Curzon Street. Early +as he was, he was not too early, for he was leisurely walking along the +pavement when, ahead of him, he saw Natalie and her little maid come +forth and set out westward. He allowed them to reach the park gates; +then he overtook them. Anneli fell a little way behind.</p> + +<p>Now, whether it was the brightness of the morning had raised her +spirits, or that she had been reasoning herself into a more courageous +frame of mind, it was soon very clear that Natalie was not at all so +anxious and <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: "embaraassed" in the original text"> +embarrassed</ins> as she had shown +herself the day before when they parted.</p> + +<p>"There was no letter from you this morning," she said, with a smile, +though she did not look up into his face. "Then I have offered myself to +you, and am refused?"</p> + +<p>"How could I write?" he said. "I tried once or twice, and then I saw I +must wait until I could tell you face to face all that I think of your +bravery and your goodness. And now that I see you Natalie, it is not a +bit better: I can't tell you; I am so happy to be near you, to be beside +you, and hear your voice, that I don't think I can say anything at all."</p> + +<p>"I am refused, then?" said she, shyly.</p> + +<p>"Refused!" he exclaimed. "There are some things one cannot refuse—like +the sunshine. But do you know what a terrible sacrifice you are making?"</p> + +<p>"It is you, then, who are making no sacrifice at all," she said, +reproachfully. "What do I sacrifice more than every girl must sacrifice +when she marries? England is not my <!-- Page 239 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span>home as it is your home; we have +lived everywhere; I have no childhood's friends to leave, as many a girl +has."</p> + +<p>"Your father—"</p> + +<p>"After a little while my father will scarcely miss me; he is too busy."</p> + +<p>But presently she added,</p> + +<p>"If you had remained in England I should never have been your wife."</p> + +<p>"Why?" he said with some surprise.</p> + +<p>"I should never have married against my father's wishes," she said, +thoughtfully. "No. My promise to you was that I would be your wife, or +the wife of no one. I would have kept that promise. But as long as we +could have seen each other, and been with each other from time to time, +I don't think I could have married against my father's wish. Now it is +quite different. Your going to America has changed it all. Ah, my dear +friend, you don't know what I suffered one or two nights before I could +decide what was right for me to do!"</p> + +<p>"I can guess," he said, in a low voice, in answer to that brief sigh of +hers.</p> + +<p>Then she grew more cheerful in manner.</p> + +<p>"But that is all over; and now, am I accepted? I think you are like +Naomi: it was only when she saw that Ruth was very determined to go with +her that she left off protesting. And I am to consider America as my +future home? Well, at all events, one will be able to breathe freely +there. It is not a country weighed down with standing armies and +conscriptions and fortifications. How could one live in a town like +Coblentz, or Metz, or Brest? The poor wretches marching this way and +marching that—you watch them from your hotel window—the young men and +the middle-aged men—and you know that they would rather be away at +their farms, or in their factories, or saw-pits, or engine-houses, +working for their wives and children—"</p> + +<p>"Natalie," said he, "you are only half a woman: you don't care about +military glory."</p> + +<p>"It is the most mean, the most cruel and contemptible thing under the +sun!" she said, passionately. "What is the quality that makes a great +hero—a great general—nowadays? Courage? Not a bit. It is +callousness!—an absolute indifference to the slaughtering of human +lives! You sit in your tent—you sit on horseback—miles away from the +fighting; and if the poor wretches are being destroyed here or there in +too great quantities, if they are ridden down by the horses <!-- Page 240 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span>and torn to +pieces by the mitrailleuses, 'Oh, clap on another thousand or two: the +place must be taken at all risks.' Yes, indeed; but not much risk to +you! For if you fail—if all the thousands of men have been hurled +against the stone and lead only to be thrown back crushed and +murdered—why, you have fought with great courage—<i>you</i>, the great +general, sitting in your saddle miles away; it is <i>you</i> who have shown +extraordinary courage!—but numbers were against you: and if you win, +you have shown still greater courage; and the audacity of the movement +was so and so; and your dogged persistence was so and so; and you get +another star for your breast; and all the world sings your praises. And +who is to court-martial a great hero for reckless waste of human life? +Who is to tell him that he is a cruel-hearted coward? Who is to take him +to the fields he has saturated with blood, and compel him to count the +corpses; or to take him to the homesteads he has ruined throughout the +land, and ask the women and sons and the daughters what they think of +this marvellous courage? Oh no; he is away back in the capital—there is +a triumphal procession; all we want now is another war-tax—for the +peasant must pay with his money as well as with his blood—and another +levy of the young men to be taken and killed!"</p> + +<p>This was always a sore point with Natalie; and he did not seek to check +her enthusiasm with any commonplace and obvious criticisms. When she got +into one of these moods of proud indignation, which was not seldom, he +loved her all the more. There was something in the ring of her voice +that touched him to the heart. Such noble, quick, generous sympathy +seemed to him far too beautiful and rare a thing to be met by argument +and analysis. When he heard that pathetic tremulousness in her voice, he +was ready to believe anything. When he looked at the proud lips and the +moistened eyes, what cause that had won such eloquent advocacy would he +not have espoused?</p> + +<p>"Ah, well, Natalie," said he, "some day the mass of the people of the +earth will be brought to see that all that can be put a stop to, if they +so choose. They have the power: <i>Zahlen regieren die Welt</i>; and how can +one be better employed than in spreading abroad knowledge, and showing +the poorer people of the earth how the world might be governed if they +would only ally themselves together? It would be more easy to persuade +them if we had all of us your voice and your enthusiasm."</p> + +<p>"Mine?" she said. "A woman's talking is not likely to <!-- Page 241 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span>be of much use. +But," she added, rather hesitatingly, "at least—she can give her +sympathy—and her love—to those who are doing the real work."</p> + +<p>"And I am going to earn yours, Natalie," said he, cheerfully, "to such a +degree as you have never dreamed of, when you and I together are away in +the new world. And that reminds me now you must not be frightened; but +there is a little difficulty. Of course you thought of nothing, when you +wrote those lines, but of doing a kindness; that was like you; your +heart speaks quickly. Well—"</p> + +<p>He himself seemed somewhat embarrassed.</p> + +<p>"You see, Natalie, there would be no difficulty at all if you and I +could get married within the next few days."</p> + +<p>Her eyes were cast down, and she was silent.</p> + +<p>"You don't think it possible you could get your father to consent?" he +said, but without much hope.</p> + +<p>"Oh no, I think not; I fear not," she said, in a low voice.</p> + +<p>"Then you see, Natalie," he continued—and he spoke quite lightly, as if +it was merely an affair of a moment—"there would be this little +awkwardness: you are not of age; unless you get your father's consent, +you cannot marry until you are twenty-one. It is not a long time—"</p> + +<p>"I did not think of it," she said, very hurriedly, and even +breathlessly. "I only thought it—it seemed hard you should go away +alone—and I considered myself already your wife—and I said, 'What +ought I to do?' And now—now you will tell me what to do. I do not +know—I have no one to ask."</p> + +<p>"Do you think," said he, after a pause, "that you would <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: "forgot" in the original text"> +forget</ins> me, if you were to remain two years in England while I was +in America?"</p> + +<p>She regarded him for a moment with those large, true eyes of hers; and +she did not answer in words.</p> + +<p>"There is another way; but—it is asking too much," he said.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" she said, calmly.</p> + +<p>"I was thinking," he said, with some hesitation, "that if I could bribe +Madame Potecki to leave her music-lessons—and take charge of you—and +bring you to America—and you and she might live there until you are +twenty-one—but I see it is impossible. It is too selfish. I should not +have thought of it. What are two years, Natalie?"</p> + +<p>The girl answered nothing; she was thinking deeply. When she next spoke, +it was about Lord Evelyn, and of the probability of his crossing to the +States, and remaining there for a year or two; and she wanted to know +more about the <!-- Page 242 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span>great country beyond the seas, and what was Philadelphia +like.</p> + +<p>Well, it was not to be expected that these two, so busy with their own +affairs, were likely to notice much that was passing around them, as the +forenoon sped rapidly away, and Natalie had to think of getting home +again. But the little German maid servant was not so engrossed. She was +letting her clear, observant blue eyes stray from the pretty young +ladies riding in the Row to the people walking under the trees, and from +them again to the banks of the Serpentine, where the dogs were barking +at the ducks. In doing so she happened to look a little bit behind her; +then suddenly she started, and said to herself, '<i>Herr Je!</i>' But the +little maid had her wits about her. She pretended to have seen nothing. +Gradually, however, she lessened the distance between herself and her +young mistress; then, when she was quite up to her, and walking abreast +with her, she said, in a low, quick voice.</p> + +<p>"Fraulein! Fraulein!"</p> + +<p>"What is it, Anneli?"</p> + +<p>George Brand was listening too. He wondered that the girl seemed so +excited, and yet spoke low, and kept her eyes fixed on the ground.</p> + +<p>"Ah, do not look round, Fraulein!" said she, in the same hurried way. +"Do not look round! But it is the lady who gave you the locket. She is +walking by the lake. She is watching you."</p> + +<p>Natalie did not look round. She turned to her companion, and said, +without any agitation whatever,</p> + +<p>"Do you remember, dearest? I showed you the locket, and told you about +my mysterious visitor. Now Anneli says she is walking by the side of the +lake. I may go and speak to her, may I not? Because it was so wicked of +Calabressa to say some one had stolen the locket, and wished to restore +it after many years. I never had any such locket."</p> + +<p>She was talking quite carelessly; it was Brand himself who was most +perturbed. He knew well who that stranger must be, if Anneli's sharp +eyes had not deceived her.</p> + +<p>"No, Natalie," he said, quickly, "you must not go and speak to her; and +do not look round, either. Perhaps she does not wish to be seen: perhaps +she would go away. Leave it to me, my darling; I will find out all about +her for you."</p> + +<p>"But it is very strange," said the girl. "I shall begin to be afraid of +this emissary of Santa Claus if she continues to be so mysterious; and I +do not like mystery: I think, dearest, <!-- Page 243 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span>I must go and speak to her. She +can not mean me any harm. She has brought me flowers again and again on +my birthday, if it is the same. She gave me the little locket I showed +you. Why may not I stop and speak to her?"</p> + +<p>"Not now, my darling," he said, putting his hand on her arm. "Let me +find out about her first."</p> + +<p>"And how are you going to do that? In a few minutes, perhaps, she goes +away; and when will you see her again? It is many months since Anneli +saw her last; and Anneli sees everything and everybody."</p> + +<p>"We will cross the bridge," said he, in a low voice, for he knew not how +near the stranger might be, "and walk on to Park Lane. Anneli must tell +us how far she follows. If she turns aside anywhere I will bid you +good-bye and see where she goes. Do you understand, Natalie?"</p> + +<p>She certainly did not understand why he should speak so seriously about +it.</p> + +<p>"And I am to be marched like a prisoner? I may not turn my head?"</p> + +<p>She began to be amused. He scarcely knew what to say to her. At last he +said, earnestly,</p> + +<p>"Natalie, it is of great importance to you that I should see this +lady—that I should try to see her. Do as I bid you, my dearest."</p> + +<p>"Then you know who she is?" said Natalie, promptly.</p> + +<p>"I have a suspicion, at all events; and—and—something may happen—that +you will be glad of."</p> + +<p>"What, more mysterious presents?" the girl said, lightly; "more messages +from Santa Claus?"</p> + +<p>He could not answer her. The consciousness that this might be indeed +Natalie's mother who was so near to them; the fear of the possible +consequences of any sudden disclosure; the thought that this opportunity +might escape him, and he leaving in a few days for America: all these +things whirled through his brain in rapid and painful succession. But +there was soon to be an end of them. Natalie, still obediently following +his instructions, and yet inclined to make light of the whole thing, and +himself arrived at the gates of the park; Anneli, as formerly, being +somewhat behind. Receiving no intimation from her, they crossed the road +to the corner of Great Stanhope Street. But they had not proceeded far +when Anneli said,</p> + +<p>"Ah, Fraulein, the lady is gone! You may look after her now. See!"</p> + +<p>That was enough for George Brand. He had no difficulty <!-- Page 244 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span>in making out +the dark figure that Anneli indicated; and he was in no great hurry, for +he feared the stranger might discover that she was being followed. But +he breathed more freely when he had bidden good-bye to Natalie, and seen +her set out for home.</p> + +<p>He leisurely walked up Park Lane, keeping an eye from time to time on +the figure in black, but not paying too strict attention, lest she +should turn suddenly and observe him. In this way he followed her up to +Oxford Street; and there, in the more crowded thoroughfare, he lessened +the distance between them considerably. He also watched more closely +now, and with a strange interest. From the graceful carriage, the +beautiful figure, he was almost convinced that that, indeed, was +Natalie's mother; and he began to wonder what he would say to her—how +he would justify his interference.</p> + +<p>The stranger stopped at a door next a shop in the Edgware Road; knocked, +waited, and was admitted. Then the door was shut again.</p> + +<p>It was obviously a private lodging-house. He took a half-crown in his +hand to bribe the maid-servant, and walked boldly up to the door and +knocked. It was not a maid-servant who answered, however; it was a man +who looked something like an English butler, and yet there was a foreign +touch about his dress—probably, Brand thought, the landlord. Brand +pulled out a card-case, and pretended to have some difficulty in getting +a card from it.</p> + +<p>"The lady who came in just now—" he said, still looking at the cards.</p> + +<p>"Madame Berezolyi? Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>His heart jumped. But he calmly took out a pencil, and wrote on one of +the cards, in French, "<i>One who knows your daughter would like to see +you</i>."</p> + +<p>"Will you be so kind as to take up that card to Madame Berezolyi? I +think she will see me. I will wait here till you come down."</p> + +<p>The man returned in a couple of minutes.</p> + +<p>"Madame Berezolyi will be pleased to see you, sir; will you step this +way?"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><!-- Page 245 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXV" id="CHAPTER_XXXV"></a>CHAPTER XXXV.</h2> + +<h3>THE MOTHER.</h3> + + +<p>This beautiful, pale, trembling mother: she stood there, dark against +the light of the window; but even in the shadow how singularly like she +was to Natalie, in the tall, slender, elegant figure, the proud set of +the head, the calm, intellectual brows, and the large, tender, dark +eyes, as soft and pathetic as those of a doe—only this woman's face was +worn and sad, and her hair was silver-gray.</p> + +<p>She was greatly agitated, and for a second or two incapable of speech. +But when he began in French to apologize for his intrusion, she eagerly +interrupted him.</p> + +<p>"Ah, no, no!" she said, in the same tongue. "Do not waste words in +apology. You have come to tell me about my child, my Natalie: Heaven +bless you for it; it is a great kindness. To-day I saw you walking with +her—listening to her voice—ah, how I envied you!—and once or twice I +thought of going to her and taking her hand, and saying only one +word—'Natalushka!'"</p> + +<p>"That would have been a great imprudence," said he gravely. "If you wish +to speak to your daughter—"</p> + +<p>"If I wish to speak to her!—if I wish to speak to her!" she exclaimed; +and there were tears in her voice, if there were none in the sad eyes.</p> + +<p>"You forget, madame, that your daughter has been brought up in the +belief that you died when she was a mere infant. Consider the effect of +any sudden disclosure."</p> + +<p>"But has she never suspected? I have passed her; she has seen me. I gave +her a locket: what did she think?"</p> + +<p>"She was puzzled, yes; but how would it occur to the girl that any one +could be so cruel as to conceal from her all those years the fact that +her mother was alive?"</p> + +<p>"Then you yourself, monsieur—"</p> + +<p>"I knew it from Calabressa."</p> + +<p>"Ah, my old friend Calabressa! And he was here, in London, and he saw my +Natalie. Perhaps—"</p> + +<p>She paused for a second.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it was he who sent the message. I heard—it was only a word or +two—that my daughter had found a lover."</p> + +<p>She regarded him. She had the same calm fearlessness of look that dwelt +in Natalie's eyes.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 246 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span></p><p>"You will pardon me, monsieur. Do I guess right? It is to you that my +child has given her love?"</p> + +<p>"That is my happiness," said he. "I wish I were better worthy of it."</p> + +<p>She still regarded him very earnestly, and in silence.</p> + +<p>"When I heard," she said, at length, in a low voice, "that my Natalie +had given her love to a stranger, my heart sunk. I said, 'More than ever +is she away from me now;' and I wondered what the stranger might be +like, and whether he would be kind to her. Now that I see you, I am not +so sad. There is something in your voice, in your look, that tells me to +have confidence in you: you will be kind to Natalie."</p> + +<p>She seemed to be thinking aloud: and yet he was not embarrassed by this +confession, nor yet by her earnest look; he perceived how all her +thoughts were really concentrated on her daughter.</p> + +<p>"Her father approves?" said this sad-faced, gray-haired woman.</p> + +<p>"Oh no; quite the contrary."</p> + +<p>"But he is kind to her?" she said, quickly, and anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes," he answered. "No doubt he is kind to her. Who could be +otherwise?"</p> + +<p>She had been so agitated at the beginning of this interview that she had +allowed her visitor to remain standing. She now asked him to be seated, +and took a chair opposite to him. Her nervousness had in a measure +disappeared; though at times she clasped the fingers of both hands +together, as if to force herself to be composed.</p> + +<p>"You will tell me all about it, monsieur; that I may know what to say +when I speak to my child at last. Ah, heavens, if you could understand +how full my heart is: sixteen years of silence! Think what a mother has +to say to her only child after that time! It was cruel—cruel—cruel!"</p> + +<p>A little convulsive sob was the only sign of her emotion, and the +lingers were clasped together.</p> + +<p>"Pardon me, madame," said he, with some hesitation; "but, you see, I do +not know the circumstances—"</p> + +<p>"You do not know why I dared not speak to my own daughter?" she said, +looking up in surprise. "Calabressa did not tell you?"</p> + +<p>"No. There were some hints I did not understand."</p> + +<p>"Nor of the reasons that forced me to comply with such an inhuman +demand? Alas! these reasons exist no longer. I have done my duty to one +whose life was sacred to me; now his death has released me from fear; I +come to my <!-- Page 247 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span>daughter now. Ah, when I fold her to my heart, what shall I +say to her—what but this?—'Natalushka, if your mother has remained +away from you all these years, it was not because she did not love +you.'"</p> + +<p>He drew his chair nearer, and took her hand.</p> + +<p>"I perceive that you have suffered, and deeply. But your daughter will +make amends to you. She loves you now; you are a saint to her; your +portrait is her dearest possession—"</p> + +<p>"My portrait?" she said, looking rather bewildered. "Her father has not +forbidden her that, then?"</p> + +<p>"It was Calabressa who gave it to her quite recently."</p> + +<p>She gently withdrew her hand, and glanced at the table, on which two +books lay, and sighed.</p> + +<p>"The English tongue is so difficult," she said. "And I have so much—so +much—to say! I have written out many things that I wish to tell her; +and have repeated them, and repeated them; but the sound is not +right—the sound is not like what my heart wishes to say to her."</p> + +<p>"Reassure yourself, madame, on that point," said he, cheerfully: "I +should imagine there is scarcely any language in Europe that your +daughter does not know something of. You will not have to speak English +to her at all."</p> + +<p>She looked up with bright eagerness in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"But not Magyar?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know for certain," he said, "for I don't know Magyar myself; +but I am almost convinced she must know it. She has told me so much +about her countrymen that used to come about the house; yes, surely they +would speak Magyar."</p> + +<p>A strange happy light came into the woman's face; she was communing with +herself—perhaps going over mentally some tender phrases, full of the +soft vowel sounds of the Magyar tongue.</p> + +<p>"That," said she, presently, and in a low voice, "would be my crowning +joy. I have thought of what I should say to her in many languages; but +always 'My daughter, I love you,' did not have the right sound. In our +own tongue it goes to the heart. I am no longer afraid: my girl will +understand me."</p> + +<p>"I should think," said he, "you will not have to speak much to assure +her of your love."</p> + +<p>She seemed to become a great deal more cheerful; this matter had +evidently been weighing on her mind.</p> + +<p>"Meanwhile," she said, "you promised to tell me all <!-- Page 248 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span>about Natalie and +yourself. Her father does not approve of your marrying. Well, his +reasons?"</p> + +<p>"If he has any, he is careful to keep them to himself," he said. "But I +can guess at some of them. No doubt he would rather not have Natalie +marry; it would deprive him of an excellent house-keeper. Then +again—and this is the only reason he does give—he seems to consider it +would be inexpedient as regards the work we are all engaged in—"</p> + +<p>"You!" she said, with a sudden start. "Are you in the Society also?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly, madame."</p> + +<p>"What grade?"</p> + +<p>He told her.</p> + +<p>"Then you are helpless if he forbids your marriage."</p> + +<p>"On the contrary, madame, my marriage or non-marriage has nothing +whatever to do with my obedience to the Society."</p> + +<p>"He has control over Natalie—"</p> + +<p>"Until she is twenty-one," he answered promptly.</p> + +<p>"But," she said, regarding him with some apprehension in her eyes, "you +do not say—you do not suggest—that the child is opposed to her +father—that she thinks of marrying you, when she may legally do so, +against his wish?"</p> + +<p>"My dear madame," said he, "it will be difficult for you to understand +how all this affair rests until you get to know something more about +Natalie herself. She is not like other girls. She has courage; she has +opinions of her own: when she thinks that such and such a thing is +right, she is not afraid to do it, whatever it may be. Now, she believes +her father's opposition to be unjust; and—and perhaps there is +something else that has influenced her: well, the fact is, I am ordered +off to America, and—and the girl has a quick and generous nature, and +she at once offered to share what she calls my banishment."</p> + +<p>"To leave her father's house!" said the mother, with increasing alarm.</p> + +<p>Brand looked at her. He could not understand this expression of anxious +concern. If, as he was beginning to assure himself, Lind was the cause +of that long and cruel separation between mother and daughter, why +should this woman be aghast at the notion of Natalie leaving such a +guardian? Or was it merely a superstitious fear of him, similar to that +which seemed to possess Calabressa?</p> + +<p>"In dealing with your daughter, madame," he continued, "one has to be +careful not to take advantage of her forgetful<!-- Page 249 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span>ness of herself. She is +too willing to sacrifice herself for others. Now to-day we were +talking—as she is not free to marry until she is twenty-one—about her +perhaps going over to America under the guardianship of Madame +Potecki—"</p> + +<p>"Madame Potecki."</p> + +<p>"She is a friend of your daughter's—almost a mother to her; and I am +not sure but that Natalie would willingly do that—more especially under +your guardianship, in preference to that of Madame Potecki—"</p> + +<p>"Oh no, no!" she exclaimed, instantly. "She must not dare her father +like that. Oh, it would be terrible! I hope you will not allow her."</p> + +<p>"It is not a question of daring; the girl has courage enough for +anything," he said coolly. "The thing is that it would involve too great +a sacrifice on her part; and I was exceedingly selfish to think of it +for a moment. No; let her remain in her father's house until she is free +to act as her own mistress; then, if she will come to me, I shall take +care that a proper home is provided for her. She must not be a wanderer +and a stranger."</p> + +<p>"But even then, when she is free to act, you will not ask her to disobey +her father? Oh, it will be too terrible!"</p> + +<p>Again he regarded her with amazement.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, madame? What is terrible? Or is it that you are +afraid of him? Calabressa spoke like that."</p> + +<p>"You do not know of what he is capable," she said, with a sigh.</p> + +<p>"All the more reason," he said, directly, "why she should be removed +from his guardianship. But permit me to say, madame, that I do not quite +share your apprehensions. I have seen nothing of the bogey kind about +your husband. Of course, he is a man of strong will, and he does not +like to be thwarted: without that strength of character he could not +have done what he has done. But he also knows that his daughter is no +longer a child, and when the proper time comes you will find that his +common sense will lead him to withdraw an opposition which would +otherwise be futile. Do I explain myself clearly? My dear madame, have +no anxiety about the future of your daughter. When you see herself, when +you speak to her, you will find that she is one who is not given to +fear."</p> + +<p>For a moment the apprehensive look left her face. She remained silent, a +happier light coming into her eyes.</p> + +<p>"She is not sad and sorrowful, then?" she said, presently.</p> + +<p>"Oh no; she is too brave."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 250 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span></p><p>"What beautiful hair she has!" said this worn-faced woman with the sad +eyes. "Ah, many a time I have said to myself that when I take her to my +heart I will feel the beautiful soft hair; I will stroke it; her head +will lie on my bosom, and I will gather courage from her eyes: when she +laughs my heart will rejoice! I have lived many years in solitude—in +secret, with many apprehensions; perhaps I have grown timid and fearful; +once I was not so. But I have been troubling myself with fears; I have +said, 'Ah, if she looks coldly on me, if she turns away from me, then my +heart will break!'"</p> + +<p>"I do not think you have much to fear," said he, regarding the +beautiful, sad face.</p> + +<p>"I have tried to catch the sound of her voice," she continued, absently, +and her eyes were filled with tears, "but I could not do that. But I +have watched her, and wondered. She does not seem proud and cold."</p> + +<p>"She will not be proud or cold to you," he said, "when she is kindness +and gentleness to all the world."</p> + +<p>"And—and when shall you see her again?" she asked, timidly.</p> + +<p>"Now," he said. "If you will permit me, I will go to her at once. I will +bring her to you."</p> + +<p>"Oh no!" she exclaimed hastily drying her eyes. "Oh no! She must not +find a sad mother, who has been crying. She will be repelled. She will +think, 'I have enough of sadness.' Oh no, you must let me collect +myself: I must be very brave and cheerful when my Natalie comes to me. I +must make her laugh, not cry."</p> + +<p>"Madame," said he, gravely, "I may have but a few days longer in +England: do you think it is wise to put off the opportunity? You see, +she must be prepared; it would be a terrible shock if she were to know +suddenly. And how can one tell what may happen to-morrow or next day? At +the present moment I know she is at home; I could bring her to you +directly."</p> + +<p>"Just now?" she said; and she began to tremble again. She rose and went +to a mirror.</p> + +<p>"She could not recognize herself in me. She would not believe me. And I +should frighten her with my mourning and my sadness."</p> + +<p>"I do not think you need fear, madame."</p> + +<p>She turned to him eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you would explain to her? Ah, would you be so kind! Tell her I +have seen much trouble of late. My father has just died, after years of +illness; and we were kept <!-- Page 251 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span>in perpetual terror. You will tell her why I +dared not go to her before: oh no! not that—not that!"</p> + +<p>"You forget, madame, that I myself do not know."</p> + +<p>"It is better she should not know—better she should not know!" she +said, rapidly. "No, let the girl have confidence in her father while she +remains in his house. Perhaps some time she may know; perhaps some one +who is a fairer judge than I will tell her the story and make excuses: +it must be that there is some excuse."</p> + +<p>"She will not want to know; she will only want to come to you."</p> + +<p>"But half an hour, give me half an hour," she said, and she glanced +round the room. "It is so poor a chamber."</p> + +<p>"She will not think of the chamber."</p> + +<p>"And the little girl with her—she will remain down-stairs, will she +not? I wish to be alone, quite alone, with my child." Her breath came +and went quickly, and she clasped her fingers tight. "Oh, monsieur, my +heart will break if my child is cold to me!"</p> + +<p>"That is the last thing you have to fear," said he, and he rose. "Now +calm yourself, madame. Recollect, you must not frighten your daughter. +And it will be more than half an hour before I bring her to you; it will +take more than that for me to break it to her."</p> + +<p>She rose also; but she was obviously so excited that she did not know +well what she was doing. All her thoughts were about the forth-coming +interview.</p> + +<p>"You are sure she understands the Magyar?" she said again.</p> + +<p>"No, I do not know. But why not speak in French to her?"</p> + +<p>"It does not sound the same—it does not sound the same: and a +mother—can only—talk to her child—"</p> + +<p>"You must calm yourself, dear madame. Do you know that your daughter +believes you to have been a miracle of courage and self-reliance? What +Calabressa used to say to her was this: 'Natalushka, when you are in +trouble you will be brave; you will show yourself the daughter of +Natalie Berezolyi.'"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes," she said, quickly, as she again dried her eyes, and drew +herself up. "I beg you to pardon me. I have thought so much of this +meeting, through all these years, that my hearts beats too quickly now. +But I will have no fear. She will come to me; I am not afraid: she will +not turn away from me. And how am I to thank you for your great +kindness?" she added, as he moved to the door.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 252 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span></p><p>"By being kind to Natalie when I am away in America," said he. "You +will not find it a difficult task."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXXVI.</h2> + +<h3>THE VELVET GLOVE.</h3> + + +<p>Ferdinand Lind sat alone, after Gathorne Edwards had gone, apparently +deep buried in thought. He leaned forward over his desk, his head +resting on his left hand, while in his right hand he held a pencil, with +which he was mechanically printing letters on a sheet of blotting-paper +before him. These letters, again and again repeated, formed but one +phrase: THE VELVET GLOVE. It was as if he were perpetually reminding +himself, during the turnings and twistings of his sombre speculations, +of the necessity of being prudent and courteous and suave. It was as if +he were determined to imprint the caution on his brain—drilling it into +himself—so that in no possible emergency could it be <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: "forgoten" in the original text"> +forgotten</ins>. But as his thoughts went farther afield, he +began to play with the letters, as a child might. They began to assume +decorations. THE VELVET GLOVE appeared surrounded with stars; again +furnished with duplicate lines; again breaking out into rays. At length +he rose, tore up the sheet of blotting-paper, and rung a hand-bell +twice.</p> + +<p>Reitzei appeared.</p> + +<p>"Where will <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: "Beratinski" in the original text"> +Beratinsky</ins> be this evening?"</p> + +<p>"At the Culturverein: he sups there."</p> + +<p>"You and he must be here at ten. There is business of importance."</p> + +<p>He walked across the room, and took up his hat and stick. Perhaps at +this moment the caution he had been drilling into himself suggested some +further word. He turned to Reitzei, who had advanced to take his place +at the desk.</p> + +<p>"I mean if that is quite convenient to you both," he said, courteously. +"Eleven o'clock, if you please, or twelve?"</p> + +<p>"Ten will be quite convenient," Reitzei said.</p> + +<p>"The business will not take long."</p> + +<p>"Then we can return to the Culturverein: it is an exhibition night: one +would not like to be altogether absent."</p> + +<p>These sombre musings had consumed some time. When Lind went out he found +it had grown dark; the lamps were lit; the stream of life was flowing +westward. But he seemed <!-- Page 253 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span>in no great hurry. He chose unfrequented +streets; he walked slowly; there was less of the customary spring and +jauntiness of his gait. In about half an hour he had reached the door of +Madame Potecki's house.</p> + +<p>He stood for some seconds there without ringing. Then, as some one +approached, he seemed waken out of a trance. He rung sharply, and the +summons was almost immediately answered.</p> + +<p>Madame Potecki was at home, he learned, but she was dining.</p> + +<p>"Never mind," said he, abruptly: "she will see me. Go and ask her."</p> + +<p>A couple of minutes thereafter he was shown into a small parlor, where +Madame Potecki had just risen to receive him; and by this time a +singular change had come over his manner.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon—I beg a thousand pardons, my dear Madame Potecki," +said he, in the kindest way, "for having interrupted you. Pray continue. +I shall make sure you forgive me only if you continue. Ah, that is well. +Now I will take a chair also."</p> + +<p>Madame Potecki had again seated herself, certainly; but she was far too +much agitated by this unexpected visit to be able to go on with her +repast. She was alarmed about Natalie.</p> + +<p>"You are surprised, no doubt, at my coming to see you," said he, +cheerfully and carelessly, "so soon after you were kind enough to call +on me. But it is only about a trifle; I assure you, my dear Madame +Potecki, it is only about a trifle, and I must therefore insist on your +not allowing your dinner to get cold."</p> + +<p>"But if it is about Natalie—"</p> + +<p>"My dear madame, Natalie is very well. There is nothing to alarm you. +Now you will go on with your dinner, and I will go on with my talking."</p> + +<p>Thus constrained, madame again addressed herself to the small banquet +spread before her, which consisted of a couple of sausages, some pickled +endive, a piece of Camembert cheese, and a tiny bottle of Erlauer. Mr. +Lind turned his chair to the fire, put his feet on the fender, and lay +back. He was rather smartly dressed this evening, and he was pleasant in +manner.</p> + +<p>"Natalie ought to be grateful to you, madame," said he lightly, "for +your solicitude about her. It is not often one finds that in one who is +not related by blood."</p> + +<p>"I have no one now left in the world to love but herself," <!-- Page 254 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span>said madame; +"and then you see, my dear friend Lind, her position appeals to one: it +is sad that she has no mother."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes," said Lind, with a trifle of impatience. "Now you were good +enough to come and tell me this afternoon, madame, about that foolish +little romance that Natalie has got into her head. It was kind of you; +it was well-intentioned. And after all, although that wish of hers to go +to America can scarcely be serious, it is but natural that romantic +ideas should get into the head of a younger girl—"</p> + +<p>"Did not I say that to her?" exclaimed Madame Potecki, eagerly; "and +almost in these words too. And did not I say to +<ins class="correction" title="Printed: her, "'Ah,">her, 'Ah,</ins> my child, you +must take care; you must take care!'"</p> + +<p>"That also was good advice," said Lind, courteously; "and no doubt +Natalie laid it to her heart. No, I am not afraid of her doing anything +very wild or reckless. She is sensible; she thinks; she has not been +brought up in an atmosphere of sentiment. One may say this or that on +the spur of the moment, when one is excited; but when it comes to +action, one reasons, one sees what one's duty is. Natalie may have said +something to you, madame, about going to America, but not with any +serious intention, believe me."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps not," said Madame Potecki, with considerable hesitation.</p> + +<p>"Very well, then," said Mr. Lind, as he rose, and stood before the +chimney-piece mirror, and arranged the ends of his gracefully tied +neckerchief. "We come to another point. It was very kind of you, my dear +madame, to bring me the news—to tell me something of that sort had been +said; but you know what ill-natured people will remark. You get no +appreciation. They call you tale-bearer!"</p> + +<p>Madame colored slightly.</p> + +<p>"It is ungenerous; it is not a fair requital of kindness; but that is +what is said," he continued. "Now, I should not like any friend of +Natalie's to incur such a charge on her account, do you perceive, +madame? And, in these circumstances, do you not think that it would be +better for both you and me to consider that you did not visit me this +afternoon; that I know nothing of what idle foolishness Natalie has been +talking? Would not that be better? As for me, I am dumb."</p> + +<p>"Oh, very well, my dear friend," said madame, quickly. "I would not for +the world have Natalie or any one think that I was a mischief-maker—oh +no! And did I not promise to you that I should say nothing of my having +called on you to-day? It is already a promise."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 255 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span></p><p>He turned round and regarded her.</p> + +<p>"Precisely so," he said. "You did promise; it was kind of you; and for +myself, you may rely on my discretion. Your calling on me—what you +repeated to me—all that is obliterated: you understand?"</p> + +<p>Madame Potecki understood that very well: but she could not quite make +out why he should have come to her this evening, apparently with no +object beyond that of reminding her of her promise to say nothing of her +visit to Lisle Street.</p> + +<p>He lifted his hat from an adjacent chair.</p> + +<p>"Now I will leave you to finish your dinner in quiet. You forgive me for +interrupting you, do you not? And you will remember, I am sure, not to +mention to any one about your having called on me to-day? As for me, it +is all wiped out: I know nothing. Adieu, and thanks."</p> + +<p>He shook hands with her in a very friendly manner, and then left, saying +he could open the outer door for himself.</p> + +<p>He got home in time for dinner: he and Natalie dined together, and he +was particularly kind to her; he talked in Magyar, which was his custom +when he wished to be friendly and affectionate; he made no reference to +George Brand whatsoever.</p> + +<p>"Natalie," said he, casually, "it was not fair that you were deprived of +a holiday this year. You know the reason—there were too many important +things going forward. But it is not yet too late. You must think about +it—think where you would like to go for two or three weeks."</p> + +<p>She did not answer. It was on that morning that she had placed her +written offer in her lover's hands; so far there had been no reply from +him.</p> + +<p>"And Madame Potecki," her father continued; "she is not very rich; she +has but little change. Why not take her with you instead of Anneli?"</p> + +<p>"I should like to take her away for a time," said the girl, in a low +voice. "She lives a monotonous life; but she has always her pupils."</p> + +<p>"Some arrangement could be made with them, surely," her father said, +lightly; and then he added, "Paris is always the safest place to go to +when one is in doubt. There you are independent of the weather; there +are so many things to see and to do if it rains. Will you think of it, +Natalushka?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, papa," she said, though she felt rather guilty. But she was so +grateful to have her father talk to her in this friendly way again, +after the days of estrangement that had <!-- Page 256 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span>passed, that she could not but +pretend to fall in with his schemes.</p> + +<p>"And I will tell you another thing," said Mr. Lind. "I intend to buy you +some furs, Natalie, for the winter. These we will get in Paris."</p> + +<p>"I am too much of an expense to you already, papa."</p> + +<p>"You forget," said he, with mock gravity, "that you give me your +invaluable services as house-keeper, and that so far you have received +no salary."</p> + +<p>There was a knock at the outer door.</p> + +<p>"Is it nine o'clock already?" he said, in an altered tone.</p> + +<p>"Whom do you expect, papa?"</p> + +<p>"Gathorne Edwards."</p> + +<p>"Then I will send you in coffee to the study."</p> + +<p>But presently Anneli came into the room.</p> + +<p>"Pardon, Fraulein, but the gentleman wishes to see you for one minute."</p> + +<p>"Let him come in here, then."</p> + +<p>Edwards came in, and shook hands with Natalie in an embarrassed manner. +Then he produced a little packet.</p> + +<p>"I have a commission, Miss Lind. It is from Signor Calabressa. He sends +you this necklace, and says I am to tell you that he thinks of you +always."</p> + +<p>The message had been in reality that Calabressa "thought of her and +loved her always." But Edwards was a shy person, and did not like to +pronounce the word "love" to this beautiful girl, who regarded him with +such proud, frank eyes.</p> + +<p>"He has not returned with you, then?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"But you can send him a message?"</p> + +<p>"I will when I hear of his address."</p> + +<p>"Then you will tell him—will you be so kind?—that the little +Natalushka—that is myself," she said, smiling; "you will tell him that +the little Natalushka thanks him, and is not likely to forget him."</p> + +<p>The interview between the new visitor and Mr. Lind was speedily got +over. Lind excused himself for giving Edwards the trouble of this second +appointment by saying he had been much engrossed with serious business +during the day. There was, indeed, little new to be communicated about +the Kirski and Calabressa escapade, though Edwards repeated the details +as minutely as possible. He accepted a cigar, and left.</p> + +<p>Then Lind got his overcoat and hat and went out of the house. A hansom +took him along to Lisle Street: he arrived there just as ten was +striking.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 257 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span></p><p>There were two men at the door; they were Beratinsky and Reitzei. All +three entered and went up the narrow stair in the dark, for the old +German had gone. There was some fumbling for matches on the landing; +then a light was procured, and the gas lit in the central room. Mr. Lind +sat down at his desk; the other two drew in chairs. The whole house was +intently silent.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry to take you away from your amusements," said he, civilly +enough; "but you will soon be able to return to them. The matter is of +importance. Edwards has returned."</p> + +<p>Both men nodded; Reitzei had, in fact, informed his companion.</p> + +<p>"As I anticipated, Calabressa's absurd proposal has been rejected, if +not even scoffed at. Now, this affair must not be played with any +longer. The Council has charged us, the English section, with a certain +duty; we must set about having it performed at once."</p> + +<p>"There is a year's grace," Beratinsky observed, but Lind interrupted him +curtly.</p> + +<p>"There may be a year's grace or less allowed to the infamous priest; +there is none allowed to us. We must have our agent ready. Why, man, do +you think a thing like that can be done off-hand, without long and +elaborate planning?"</p> + +<p>Beratinsky was silenced.</p> + +<p>"Are we to have the Council think that we are playing with them? And +that was not the only thing in connection with the Calabressa scheme +which you, Reitzei, were the first to advocate. Every additional person +whom you let into the secret is a possible weak point in the carrying +out of the design; do you perceive that? And you had to let this man +Edwards into it."</p> + +<p>"But he is safe."</p> + +<p>Lind laughed.</p> + +<p>"Safe? Yes; because he knows his own life would not be worth a +half-franc piece if he betrayed a Council secret. However, that is over: +no more about it. We must show the Council that we can act and +promptly."</p> + +<p>There was silence for a second or two.</p> + +<p>"I have no need to wait for the further instructions of the Council," +Lind resumed. "I know what they intend. They intend to make it clear to +all Europe that this is not a Camorra act of vengeance. The Starving +Cardinal has thousands of enemies; the people curse and groan at him; if +he were stabbed by an Italian, 'Oh, another of those Camorristi +wretches!' would be the cry. The agent must come from <!-- Page 258 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span>England, and, if +he is taken red-handed, then let him say if he likes that he is +connected with an association which knows how to reach evil-doers who +are beyond the ordinary reach of the law; but let him make it clear that +it is no Camorra affair: you understand?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes," said both men.</p> + +<p>"Now you know what the Council have ordained," continued Lind, calmly, +"that no agent shall be appointed to undertake any service involving +immediate peril to life without a ballot among at least four persons. It +was absurd of Calabressa to imagine that they would abrogate their own +decree, merely because that Russian madman was ready for anything. Well, +it is not expedient that this secret should be confided to many. It is +known to four persons in this country. We are three of the four."</p> + +<p>The two men started.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said boldly, and he regarded each of them in turn. "That is my +proposal: that we ourselves form three of the ballot of four. The fourth +must be an Englishman."</p> + +<p>"Edwards?" said Beratinsky. Reitzei was thinking too much of his own +position to speak.</p> + +<p>"No," said Lind, calmly playing with his pencil, "Edwards is a man of +books, not of action. I have been thinking that the fourth ought to +be—George Brand."</p> + +<p>He watched them both. Reitzei was still preoccupied; but the small black +eyes of Beratinsky twinkled eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, yes! Very good! There we have our four. For myself, I am not +afraid; not I!"</p> + +<p>"And you, Reitzei; are you satisfied?" said Lind merely as a matter of +form.</p> + +<p>The younger man started.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, the Council must be obeyed," said he, absently.</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen," said Lind, rising, "the business is concluded. Now you may +return to your Culturverein."</p> + +<p>But when the others had risen, he said, in a laughing way, "There is +only one thing I will add: you may think about it at your leisure. The +chances are three to one, and we all run the same risk; but I confess I +should not be sorry to see the Englishman chosen; for, you perceive, +that would make the matter clear enough. They would not accuse an +Englishman of complicity with the Camorra—would they, Reitzei? If the +lot fell to the Englishman, I should not be disappointed—would you, +Beratinsky?"</p> + +<p>Beratinsky, who was about to leave, turned sharply and the coal-black +eyes were fixed intently on Lind's face.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 259 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span></p><p>"I?" he said. "Not I! We will talk again about it, Brother Lind."</p> + +<p>Reitzei opened the door, Lind screwed out the gas, and then the three +men descended the wooden staircase, their footsteps sounding through the +silent house.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVII.</h2> + +<h3>SANTA CLAUS.</h3> + + +<p>To save time Brand jumped into a hansom and drove down to Curzon Street. +He was too much preoccupied to remember that Natalie had wished him not +to come to the house. Anneli admitted him, and showed him up-stairs into +the drawing-room. In a couple of seconds or so Natalie herself appeared.</p> + +<p>"Well," said she lightly, "you have come to tell me about Santa Claus? +You have discovered the mysterious messenger?"</p> + +<p>She shut the door and went forward to him.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter?" she said, quickly: there was something in his look +that alarmed her.</p> + +<p>He caught both her hands in his, and held them tight.</p> + +<p>"Nothing to frighten you, at all events," said he: "no, Natalie I have +good news for you. Only—only—you must be <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: Missing quote added to the original text"> +brave."</ins></p> + +<p>It was he who was afraid; he did not know how to begin.</p> + +<p>"That locket there," said he, regarding the little silver trinket. "Have +you ever thought about it?—why do you wear it?"</p> + +<p>"Why do I wear it?" she said, simply. "Because one day that Calabressa +was talking to me it occurred to me that the locket might have belonged +to my mother, and that some one had wished to give it to me. He did not +say it was impossible. It was his talk of Natalie and Natalushka that +put it in my head; perhaps it was a stupid fancy."</p> + +<p>"Natalie, the locket did belong to your mother."</p> + +<p>"Ah, you know, then?" she said, quickly, but with nothing beyond a +bright and eager interest. "You have seen that lady? Well, what does she +say?—was she angry that you followed her? Did you thank her for me for +all those presents of flowers?"</p> + +<p>"Natalie," said he almost in despair, "have you never <!-- Page 260 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span>thought about +it—about the locket? Have you never thought of what might be possible?"</p> + +<p>"I do not understand you," she said, with a bewildered air. "What is it? +why do you not speak?"</p> + +<p>"Because I am afraid. See, I hold your hands tight because I am afraid. +And yet it is good news: your heart will be filled with joy; your life +will be quite different from to-day ever after. Natalie, cannot you +imagine for yourself—something beautiful happening to you—something +you may have dreamed of—"</p> + +<p>She became a little pale, but she maintained her calmness.</p> + +<p>"Dearest," said she, "why are you afraid to tell me. You hold my hands: +do they tremble?"</p> + +<p>"But, Natalie, think!" he said. "Think of the locket; it was given you +by one who loved you—who has loved you all these years—and been kept +away from you—and now she is waiting for you."</p> + +<p>He studied her face intently: there was nothing there but a vague +bewilderment. He grew more and more to fear the effect of the shock.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes. Can you not think, now, if it were possible that one whom you +have always thought to be dead—whom you have loved all through your +life—if it were she herself—"</p> + +<p>She withdrew her hands from his, and caught the back of a chair. She was +ghastly pale; for a second she did not speak.</p> + +<p>"You will kill me—if it is not true," she said, in a low voice, and +still staring at him with frightened, bewildered eyes.</p> + +<p>"Natalie, it is true," said he, stepping forward to catch her by the +arm, for he thought she was going to fall.</p> + +<p>She sunk into a chair, and covered her face with her hands—not to cry, +but to think. She had to reverse the belief of a lifetime in a second.</p> + +<p>But suddenly she started up, her face still white, her lips firm.</p> + +<p>"Take me to her; I must see her; I will go at once."</p> + +<p>"You shall not," he said, promptly; but he himself was beginning to +breathe more freely. "I will not allow you to see her until you are +perfectly calm."</p> + +<p>He put his hand on her arm gently.</p> + +<p>"Natalie," said he, "you must calm yourself—for her sake. She has been +suffering; she is weak; any wild scene would do her harm. You must calm +yourself, my darling; <!-- Page 261 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span>you must be the braver of the two; you must show +yourself very strong—for her sake."</p> + +<p>"I am quite calm," she said, with pale lips. She put her left hand over +her heart. "It is only my heart that beats so."</p> + +<p>"Well, in a little while—"</p> + +<p>"Now—now!" she pleaded, almost wildly. "I must see her. When I try to +think of it, it is like to drive me mad; I cannot think at all. Let us +go!"</p> + +<p>"You must think," he said firmly; "you must think of what you are going +to say; and your dress, too. Natalie, you must take that piece of +scarlet ribbon away; one who is nearly related to you has just died."</p> + +<p>She tore it off instantly.</p> + +<p>"And you know Magyar, don't you, Natalie?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, yes."</p> + +<p>"Because your mother has been learning English in order to be able to +speak to you."</p> + +<p>Again she placed her hand over her heart, and there was a look of pain +on her face.</p> + +<p>"My dearest, let us go! I can bear no more: my heart will break! See, am +I not calm enough? Do I tremble?"</p> + +<p>"No, you are very courageous," he said, looking at her doubtfully.</p> + +<p>"Let us go!—let us go!"</p> + +<p>Her entreaties overcame his scruples. The things she had thrown aside on +coming in from her morning walk still lay there; she hastily put them +on; and she herself led the way down-stairs. He put her into the hansom, +and followed; the man drove off. She held her lover's hand tight, as a +sign of her gratitude.</p> + +<p>"Mind, I depend on you, Natalie," he said.</p> + +<p>"Oh, do not fear," she said, rather wildly; "why should one fear? It +seems to me all a strange sort of dream; and I shall waken out of it +by-and-by, and go back to the house. Why should I be surprised to see +her, when she is my constant companion? And do you think I shall not +know what to say?—I have talked to her all my life."</p> + +<p>But when they had reached the house, and were admitted, this +half-hysterical courage had fled.</p> + +<p>"One moment, dearest; give me one moment," she said, at the foot of the +stairs, as if her breath failed her, and she put her hand on his arm.</p> + +<p>"Now, Natalie," he whispered, "you must think of your <!-- Page 262 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span>mother as an +invalid—not to be excited, you understand; there is to be no scene."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes," she said, but she scarcely heard him.</p> + +<p>"Now go," he said, "and I will wait here."</p> + +<p>"No, I wish you to come," she said.</p> + +<p>"You ought to be alone with her."</p> + +<p>"I wish you to come," she repeated; and she took his hand.</p> + +<p>They went up-stairs; the door was wide open; a figure stood in the +middle of the room. Natalie entered first; she was very white, that was +all. It was the other woman who was trembling—trembling with anxious +fears, and forgetful of every one of the English phrases she had +learned.</p> + +<p>The girl at the door hesitated but for a moment. Breathless, wondering, +she beheld this vision—worn as the face was, she recognized in it the +features she had learned to love; and there were the dark and tender +eyes she had so often held commune with when she was alone. It was only +because she was so startled that she thus hesitated; the next instant +she was in her mother's arms held tight there, her head against her +bosom.</p> + +<p>Then the mother began, in her despair,</p> + +<p>"My—my daughter—you—do—know me?"</p> + +<p>But the girl, not looking up, murmured some few words in a language +Brand did not understand; and at the sound of them the mother uttered a +wild cry of joy, and drew her daughter closer to her, and laid her +streaming, worn, sad face on the beautiful hair. They spoke together in +that tongue; the sounds were soft and tender to the ear; perhaps it was +the yearning of love that made them so.</p> + +<p>Then Natalie remembered her promise. She gently released herself; she +led her mother to a sofa, and made her sit down; she threw herself on +her knees beside her, and kissed her hand; then she buried her head in +her mother's lap. She sobbed once or twice; she was determined not to +give way to tears. And the mother stroked the soft hair of the girl, +which she could hardly see, for her eyes were full; and from time to +time she spoke to her in those gentle, trembling tones, bending over her +and speaking close to her ear. The girl was silent; perhaps afraid to +awake from a dream.</p> + +<p>"Natalie," said George Brand.</p> + +<p>She sprung to her feet.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I beg your pardon—I beg your pardon!" she said, hurriedly. "I had +forgotten—"</p> + +<p><!-- Page 263 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span></p><p>"No, you have not forgotten," he said, with a smile. "You have +remembered; you have behaved well. Now that I have seen you through it, +I am going; you ought to be by yourselves."</p> + +<p>"Oh no!" she said, in a bewildered way. "Without you I am useless: I +cannot think. I should go on talking and talking to my mother all day, +all night—because—because my heart is full. But—but one must do +something. Why is she here? She will come home with me—now!"</p> + +<p>"Natalie," said he, gravely, "you must not even mention such a thing to +her: it would pain her. Can you not see that there are sufficient +reasons why she should not go, when she has not been under your father's +roof for sixteen years?"</p> + +<p>"And why has my father never told me?" the girl said, breathlessly.</p> + +<p>"I cannot say."</p> + +<p>She thought for a moment; but she was too excited to follow out any +train of thinking.</p> + +<p>"Ah," she said, "what matter? I have found a great treasure. And you, +you shall not go: it will be we three together now. Come!"</p> + +<p>She took his hand; she turned to her mother; her face flushed with +shyness. She said something, her eyes turned to the ground, in that soft +musical language he did not understand.</p> + +<p>"I know, my child," the mother answered in French, and she laughed +lightly despite her wet eyes. "Do you think one cannot see?—and I have +been following you like a spy!"</p> + +<p>"Ah, then," said the girl, in the same tongue, "do you see what lies +they tell? They say when the mother comes near her child, the heart of +the child knows and recognizes her. It is not true! it is not true!—or +perhaps one has a colder heart than the others. You have been near to +me, mother; I have watched, as you went away crying, and all I said was, +'Ah, the poor lady, I am sorry for her!' I had no more pity for you than +Anneli had. Anneli used to say, 'Perhaps, fraulein, she has lost some +one who resembles you.'"</p> + +<p>"I had lost you—I had lost you," the mother said, drawing the girl +toward her again. "But now I have found you again, Natalushka. I thank +God for his goodness to me. I said to myself, 'If my child turns away +from me, I will die!' and I thought that if you had any portrait of me, +it would be taken when I was young, and you would not care for an old +woman grown haggard and plain—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, do you think it is for smooth portraits that I care?" <!-- Page 264 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span>the girl +said, impetuously. She drew out from some concealed pocket a small case, +and opened it. "Do you think it is for smooth faces one cares? There—I +will never look at it again!"</p> + +<p>She threw it on to the table with a proud gesture.</p> + +<p>"But you had it next your heart, Natalushka," said her mother, smiling.</p> + +<p>"But I have you in my heart, mother: what do I want with a portrait?" +said the girl.</p> + +<p>She drew her daughter down to her again, and put her arm once more round +her neck.</p> + +<p>"I once had hair like yours, Natalushka, but not so beautiful as yours, +I think. And you wore the locket, too? Did not that make you guess? Had +you no suspicion?"</p> + +<p>"How could I—how could I?" she asked. "Even when I showed it to +Calabressa—"</p> + +<p>Here she stopped suddenly.</p> + +<p>"Did he know, mother?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes."</p> + +<p>"Then why did he not tell me? Oh, it was cruel!" she said, indignantly.</p> + +<p>"He told me, Natalie," George Brand said.</p> + +<p>"You knew?" the girl said, turning to him with wide eyes.</p> + +<p>"Yes; and Calabressa, when he told me, implored me never to tell you. +Well, perhaps he thought it would give you needless pain. But I was +thinking, within the last few days, that I ought to tell you before I +left for America."</p> + +<p>"Do you hear, mother?" the girl said, in a low voice. "He is going away +to America—and alone. I wished to go; he refuses."</p> + +<p>"Now I am going away much more contented, Natalie, since you will have a +constant companion with you. I presume, madame, you will remain in +England?"</p> + +<p>The elder woman looked up with rather a frightened air.</p> + +<p>"Alas, monsieur, I do not know! When at last I found myself free—when I +knew I could come and speak to my child—that was all I thought of."</p> + +<p>"But you wish to remain in England: is it not so?"</p> + +<p>"What have I in the world now but this beautiful child—whose heart is +not cold, though her mother comes so late to claim her?"</p> + +<p>"Then be satisfied, madame. It is simple. No one can interfere with you. +But I will provide you, if you will allow me, with better lodgings than +these. I have a few days' idleness still before me."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 265 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span></p><p>"That is his way, mother," Natalie said, in a still lower voice. "It is +always about others he is thinking—how to do one a kindness."</p> + +<p>"I presume," he said, in quite a matter-of-fact way, "that you do not +wish your being in London to become known?"</p> + +<p>She looked up timidly, but in truth she could hardly take her attention +away from this newly-found daughter of hers for a single second. She +still continued stroking the soft hair and rounded cheek as she said,</p> + +<p>"If that is possible."</p> + +<p>"It would not be long possible in an open thoroughfare like this," he +said; "But I think I could find you a small old-fashioned house down +about Brompton, with a garden and a high wall. I have passed such places +occasionally. There Natalie could come to see you, and walk with you. +There is another thing," he said, in a matter-of-fact way, taking out +his watch. "It is now nearly two o'clock. Now, dear madame, Natalie is +in the habit of having luncheon at one. You would not like to see your +child starve before your eyes?"</p> + +<p>The elder woman rose instantly; then she colored somewhat.</p> + +<p>"No doubt you did not expect visitors," George Brand said, quickly. +"Well, what do you say to this? Let us get into a four-wheeled cab, and +drive down to my chambers. I have an indefatigable fellow, who could get +something for us in the desert of Saharra."</p> + +<p>"What do you say, child?"</p> + +<p>Natalie had risen too: she was regarding her mother with earnest eyes, +and not thinking much about luncheon.</p> + +<p>"I will do whatever you wish," she was saying: but suddenly she cried, +"Oh, I am indeed so happy!" and flung her arms round her mother's neck, +and burst into a flood of tears for the first time. She had struggled +long; but she had broken down at last.</p> + +<p>"Natalie," said George Brand, pretending to be very anxious about the +time, "could you get your mother's things for her? I think we shall be +down there by a quarter past two."</p> + +<p>She turned to him with her streaming eyes.</p> + +<p>"Yes, we will go with <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: "," in the original replaced by ".""> +you.</ins> Do not let us be separated."</p> + +<p>"Then look sharp," said he, severely.</p> + +<p>Natalie took her mother into the adjoining room. Brand, standing at the +window, succeeded in catching the eye of a cab-man, whom he signaled to +come to the door below. Presently the two women appeared.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 266 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span></p><p>"Now," he said, "Miss Natalie, there is to be no more crying."</p> + +<p>"Oh no!" she said, smiling quite radiantly. "And I am so anxious to see +the rooms—I have heard so much of them from Lord Evelyn."</p> + +<p>She said nothing further then, for she was passing before him on her way +out. In doing so, she managed, unseen, to pick up the miniature she had +thrown on the table. She had made believe to despise that portrait very +much; but all the same, as they went down the dark staircase, she +conveyed it back to the secret little pocket she had made for it—next +her heart.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVIII.</h2> + +<h3>A SUMMONS.</h3> + + +<p>"Mother," said the girl, in the soft-sounding Magyar, as these two were +together going down-stairs, "give me your hand; let me hold it tight, to +make sure. All the way here I kept terrifying myself by thinking it must +be a dream; that I should wake, and find the world empty without you, +just as before. But now—now with your hand in mine, I am sure."</p> + +<p>"Natalushka, you can hear me speak also. Ghosts do not speak like this, +do they?"</p> + +<p>Brand had preceded them to open the door. As Natalie was passing him she +paused for a second, and regarded him with the beautiful, tender, dark +eyes.</p> + +<p>"I am not likely to forget what I owe to you," she said in English.</p> + +<p>He followed them into the cab.</p> + +<p>"What you owe to me?" he said, lightly. "You owe me nothing at all. But +if you wish to do me a good turn, you may pretend to be pleased with +whatever old Waters can get together for you. The poor old fellow will +be in a dreadful state. To entertain two ladies, and not a moment of +warning! However, we will show you the river, and the boats and things, +and give him a few minutes' grace."</p> + +<p>Indeed, it was entirely as a sort of harmless frolic that he chose to +regard this present excursion of theirs. He was afraid of the effect of +excessive emotion on this worn woman, and he was anxious that she should +see her daughter cheerful and happy. He would not have them think of any +future; <!-- Page 267 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span>above all, he would have nothing said about himself or America; +it was all an affair of the moment—the joyous re-union of mother and +daughter—a pleasant morning with London all busy and astir—the only +serious thing in the whole world the possible anxieties and struggles of +the venerable major-domo in Buckingham Street.</p> + +<p>He had not much difficulty in entertaining these two guests of his on +their way down. They professed to be greatly interested in the history +and antiquities of the old-fashioned little thoroughfare over the river; +arrived there, they regarded with much apparent curiosity the houses +pointed out to them as having been the abode of illustrious personages: +they examined the old water gate; and, in ascending the oak staircase, +they heard of painted ceilings and what not with a deep and respectful +attention. But always these two had each other's hand clasped tight, and +occasionally Natalie murmured a little snatch of Magyar. It was only to +make sure, she explained.</p> + +<p>Before they reached the topmost story they heard a considerable noise +overhead. It was a one-sided altercation; broken and piteous on the one +hand, voluble and angry on the other.</p> + +<p>"It sounds as if Waters were having a row with the man in possession," +Brand said.</p> + +<p>They drew nearer.</p> + +<p>"Why, Natalie, it is your friend Kirski!"</p> + +<p>Brand was following his two guests up-stairs; and so could not interfere +between the two combatants before they arrived. But the moment that +Natalie appeared on the landing there was a dead silence. Kirski shrunk +back with a slight exclamation, and stood looking from one to the other +with a frightened air. She advanced to him and asked him what was the +matter, in his native tongue. He shrunk farther back. The man could not +or would not speak. He murmured something to himself, and stared at her +as if she were a spectre.</p> + +<p>"He has got a letter for you, sir," Waters said; "I have seen the +address; and he will neither leave it nor take it. And as for what he +has been trying to say, Lord A'mighty knows what it is—I don't."</p> + +<p>"Very well—all right," Brand said. "You leave him to us. Cut away and +get some luncheon—whatever you can find—at once."</p> + +<p>But Natalie had gone nearer to the Russian, and was talking to him in +that fearless, gentle way of hers. By-and-by he spoke, in an uncertain, +almost gasping voice. Then he <!-- Page 268 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span>showed her a letter; and, in obedience to +something she said, went timidly forward and placed it in Brand's hand.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"<i>A Monsieur,</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3.5em;"><i>M. George Brand, Esq.,</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5.5em;"><i>Londres.</i>"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>This was the superscription; and Brand recognized the handwriting easily +enough.</p> + +<p>"The letter is from Calabressa," he said obviously. "Tell him not to be +alarmed. We shall not eat him, however hungry we may be."</p> + +<p>Kirski had recovered himself somewhat, and was speaking eagerly to her, +in a timid, anxious, imploring fashion. She listened in silence; but she +was clearly somewhat embarrassed, and when she turned to her lover there +was some flush of color on her face.</p> + +<p>"He talks some wild things," she said, "and some foolish things; but he +means no harm. I am sorry for the poor man. He is afraid you are angry +with him; he says he promised never to try to see me; that he would not +have come if he had known. I have told him you are not angry; that it is +not his fault; that you will show that you are not angry."</p> + +<p>But first of all Brand ushered his guests into the long, low-roofed +chamber, and drew the portieres across the middle, so that Waters might +have an apartment for his luncheon preparations. Then he opened the +letter. Kirski remained at the door, with his cap in his hand.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"My much-esteemed friend,"—Calabressa wrote, in his ornate, +ungrammatical, and phonetic French—"the poor devil who is the bearer of +this letter is known to you, and yet not altogether known to you. You +know something of his conversion from a wild beast into a man—from the +tiger into a devotee; but you do not, my friend, perhaps entirely know +how his life has become absorbed in one worship, one aspiration, one +desire. The means of the conversion, the instrument, you know, have I +not myself before described it to you? The harassed and bleeding heart, +crushed with scorn and filled with despair—how can a man live with that +in his bosom? He wishes to die. The world has been too cruel to him. But +all at once an angel appears; into the ruins of the wasted life a seed +of kindness is dropped, and then behold the beautiful flower of love +springing up—love that be<!-- Page 269 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span>comes a worship, a religion! Yes, I have said +so much before to you; now I say more; now I entreat you not to check +this beautiful worship—it is sacred. This man goes round the churches; +he stands before the pictures of the saints; he wanders on unsatisfied: +he says there is no saint like the beautiful one in England, who healed +him with her soft words when he was sick to death. But now, my dear +Monsieur Brand, I hear you say to yourself, 'What is my friend +Calabressa after now? Has he taken to the writings of pious sermons? Is +he about to shave his head and put a rope round his waist? My faith, +that is not like that fellow Calabressa!' You are right, my friend. I +describe the creation of the devotee; it is a piece of poetry, as one +might say. But your devotee must have his amulet; is it not so? This is +the meaning and prayer of my letter to you. The bearer of it was willing +to do us a great service; perhaps—if one must confess it—he believed +it was on behalf of the beautiful Natalushka and her father that he was +to undertake the duty that now devolves on some other. One must practice +a little <i>finesse</i> sometimes; what harm is there? Very well. Do you know +what he seeks by way of reward—what he considers the most valuable +thing in the world? It is a portrait of his saint, you understand? That +is the amulet the devotee would have. And I do not further wish to write +to her; no, because she would say, 'What, that is a little matter to do +for my friend Calabressa.' No; I write to you—I write to one who has +knowledge of affairs—and I say to myself, 'If he considers it prudent, +then he will ask the beautiful child to give her portrait to this one +who will worship it.' I have declared to him that I will make the +request; I make it. Do not consider it a trifling matter; it is not to +him; it is the crown of his existence. And if he says, 'Do you see, this +is what I am ready to do for her—I will give my life if she or her +friends wish it;' then I say—I, Calabressa—that a portrait at one +shilling, two shillings, ten shillings, is not so very much in return. +Now, my dear friend, you will consider the prudence of granting his +request and mine. I believe in his faithfulness. If you say to him, 'The +beautiful lady who was kind to you wishes you to do this or do that; or +wishes you never to part with this portrait; or wishes you to keep +silence on this or on that,' you may depend on him. I say so. Adieu! Say +to the little one that there is some one who does not forget her. +Perhaps you will never hear from Calabressa again: remember him not as a +<!-- Page 270 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span>madcap, but as one who wishes you well. To-morrow I start for +Cyprus—then farther—with a light heart. Adieu!</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Calabressa."</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>He handed the letter to Natalie's mother. The elder woman read the +letter carefully. She laughed quietly; but there were tears in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"It is like my old friend Calabressa," she said. "Natalushka, they want +you to give your portrait to this poor creature who adores you. Why not? +Calabressa says he will do whatever you tell him. Tell him, then, not to +part with it; not to show it to any one, and not to say to any one he +has seen either you or me here. Is not that simple? Tell him to come +here to-morrow or next day; you can send the photograph to Mr. Brand."</p> + +<p>The girl went to the door, and said a few words to Kirski. He said +nothing in reply, but sunk on his knees, as he had done in Curzon +Street, and took her hand and kissed it; then he rose, and bowed +respectfully to the others, and left.</p> + +<p>Presently Waters came in and announced that luncheon was on the table; +the portieres were drawn aside; they passed into the farther end of the +apartment, and sat down. The banquet was not a sumptuous one, and there +were no flowers on the table; but it was everything that any human being +could have done in fifteen minutes; and these were bachelors' rooms. +Natalie took care to make a pretty speech in the hearing of Mr. Waters.</p> + +<p>"Yes, but you eat nothing," the host said. "Do you think your mother +will have anything if she sees you indifferent?"</p> + +<p>Presently the mother, who seemed to be much amused with something or +other, said in French,</p> + +<p>"Ah, my friend, I did not think my child would be so deceitful. I did +not think she would deceive you."</p> + +<p>The girl stared with wide eyes.</p> + +<p>"She pretended to tell you what this poor man said to her," said the +mother, with a quiet smile. "She forgot that some one else than herself +might know Russian."</p> + +<p>Natalie flushed red.</p> + +<p>"Mother!" she remonstrated. "I said he had spoken a lot of foolish +things."</p> + +<p>"After all," said the mother, "he said no more than what Calabressa says +in the letter. You have been kind to him; he regards you as an angel; he +will give you his life; you, or any one whom you love. The poor man! Did +you see how he trembled?"</p> + +<p><!-- Page 271 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span></p><p>Natalie turned to George Brand.</p> + +<p>"He said something more than that," said she. "He said he had undertaken +some duty, some service, that was expected to have cost him his life. He +did not know what it was: do you?"</p> + +<p>"I do not," said he, answering frankly the honest look of her eyes. "I +can scarcely believe any one was foolish enough to think of intrusting +any serious duty to a man like that. But still Calabressa hints as much; +and I know he left England with Calabressa."</p> + +<p>"Natalushka," the mother said, cautiously, and yet with an anxious +scrutiny, "I have often wondered—whether you knew much—much about the +Society."</p> + +<p>"Oh no, mother! I am allowed to translate, and sometimes I hear that +help is to be given here or there; but I am in no secrets at all. That +is my misfortune."</p> + +<p>The mother seemed much relieved.</p> + +<p>"It is not a misfortune, child. You are happier as you are, I think. +Then," she added, with a quick glance, "you have never heard of +one—Bartolotti?"</p> + +<p>"No," she answered; but directly afterwards she exclaimed, "Oh yes, yes! +Bartolotti, that is the name Calabressa gave me. He said if ever I was +in very serious trouble, I was to go to Naples; and that was the +password. But I thought to myself, 'If I am in trouble, why should I not +go to my own father?'"</p> + +<p>The mother rose and went to the girl, and put her arm round her +daughter's neck, and stooped down.</p> + +<p>"Natalushka," said she, earnestly, "you are wiser than Calabressa. If +you are in trouble, do not seek any help that way. Go to your father."</p> + +<p>"And to you, mother," said she, drawing down the worn, beautiful face +and kissing it. "Why not to you also? Why not to you both?"</p> + +<p>The mother smiled, and patted the girl's head, and then returned to the +other side of the table. Waters brought in some fruit, fresh from Covent +Garden.</p> + +<p>He also brought in a letter, which he put beside his master's plate. +Brand did not even look at it; he pushed it aside, to give him more +room. But in pushing it aside he turned it somewhat and Natalie's eye +happening to fall on the address, she perceived at once that it was in +the handwriting of her father.</p> + +<p>"Dearest," said she, in a low voice, and rather breathlessly, "the +letter is from papa."</p> + +<p>"From your father?" said he, without any great concern. <!-- Page 272 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span>Then he turned +to Natalie's mother. "Will you excuse me? My friends are determined to +remind me of their existence to-day."</p> + +<p>But this letter was much shorter than Calabressa's, though it was +friendly enough.</p> + +<p>"My Dear Mr. Brand," it ran,—"I am glad to hear that you acted with so +much promptitude that your preparations for departure are nearly +complete. You are soldier-like. I have less scruples, therefore, in +asking you to be so kind as to give me up to-morrow evening from +half-past nine onward, for the consideration of a very serious order +that has been transmitted to us from the Council. You will perceive that +this claims precedence over any of our local arrangements; and as it may +even involve the abandonment of your voyage to America, it will be +advisable to give it immediate consideration. I trust the hour of +half-past nine will not interfere with any engagement.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Your colleague and friend, Ferdinand Lind."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>This was all that an ordinary reader would have seen in the letter; but +Brand observed also, down at the left-hand corner, a small mark in green +color. That tiny arrow, with the two dots—the whole almost +invisible—changed the letter from an invitation into a command. It +signified "On business of the Council."</p> + +<p>He laid down the letter, and said lightly to Natalie,</p> + +<p>"Now I have some news for you. I may not have to go to America after +all."</p> + +<p>"You are not going to America?" she said, in a bewildered way. "Oh, if +it were possible—if it were possible!" she murmured, "I would say I was +too happy. God is too good to me—to have them both given back to me in +one day—both of them in one day—"</p> + +<p>"Natalie," said he, gently, "it is only a possibility, you know."</p> + +<p>"But it is possible!" she said; and there was a quick, strange, happy +light in her face. "It <i>is</i> possible, is it not?"</p> + +<p>Then she glanced at her mother; and her face, that had been somewhat +pale, was pale no longer; the blood mounted to her forehead; her eyes +were downcast.</p> + +<p>"It would please you, would it not?" she said, somewhat formally and in +a low and timid voice. The mother, unobserved, smiled.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes," he said, cheerfully. "But even if I go to America, <!-- Page 273 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span>expect +your mother and you to be arriving at Sandy Hook; and what then? In a +couple of years—it is not a long time—<ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: Repeated "I should" deleted from the original text"> +I should</ins> have a small steamer there to meet you, and we could +sail up the bay together."</p> + +<p>Luncheon over, they went to the window, and greatly admired the view of +the gardens below and the wide river beyond; and they went round the +room examining the water-colors, and bits of embroidery, and knickknacks +brought from many lands, and they were much interested in one or two +portraits. Altogether they were charmed with the place, though the elder +lady said, in her pretty, careful French, that it was clear no woman's +hand was about, otherwise there would have been white curtains at the +windows besides those heavy straight folds of red. Brand said he +preferred to have plenty of light in the room; and, in fact, at this +moment the sunlight was painting squares of beautiful color on the faded +old Turkey-carpet. All this time Natalie had shown much reserve.</p> + +<p>When the mother and daughter were in the cab together going to Edgware +Road—George Brand was off by himself to Brompton—the mother said,</p> + +<p>"Natalushka, why was your manner so changed to Mr. Brand, after you +heard he might not be going to America?"</p> + +<p>The girl hesitated for a moment, and her eyes were lowered.</p> + +<p>"You see, mother," she said, with some embarrassment, "when one is in +great trouble and difficulty—and when you wish to show sympathy—then, +perhaps, you speak too plainly. You do not think of choosing very +prudent words; your heart speaks for you; and one may say things that a +girl should not be too ready to confess. That is when there is great +trouble, and you are grieved for some one. But—but—when the trouble +goes away—when it is all likely to come right—one remembers—"</p> + +<p>The explanation was rather stammering and confused.</p> + +<p>"But at least, mother," she added, with her eyes still downcast, "at +least I can be frank with you. There is no harm in my telling you that I +love you."</p> + +<p>The mother pressed the hand that she held in hers.</p> + +<p>"And if you tell me often enough, Natalushka, perhaps I shall begin to +believe you."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><!-- Page 274 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXXIX.</h2> + +<h3>A NEW HOME.</h3> + + +<p>George Brand set out house-hunting with two exceptional circumstances in +his favor: he knew precisely what he wanted, and he was prepared to pay +for it. Moreover, he undertook the task willingly and cheerfully. It was +something to do. It would fill in a portion of that period of suspense. +It would prevent his harassing himself with speculations as to his own +future—speculations which were obviously useless until he should learn +what was required of him by the Council.</p> + +<p>But none the less was he doomed to the house-hunter's inevitable +disappointment. He found, in the course of his devious wanderings +through all sorts of out-of-the way thoroughfares within a certain +radius from Brompton Church, that the houses which came nearest to his +ideal cottage in a walled garden were either too far away from Hyde +Park, or they were not to be let, or they were to be let unfurnished. +So, like a prudent person, he moderated his desires, and began to cast +about for any furnished house of fairly cheerful aspect, with a garden +behind. But here again he found that the large furnished houses were out +of the question, because they were unnecessarily expensive, and that the +smaller ones were mostly to be found in slummy streets; while in both +cases there was a difficulty about servants. The end of it was that he +took the first floor of an old-fashioned house in Hans Place, being +induced to do so partly because the landlady was a bright, +pleasant-looking little Frenchwoman, and partly because the rooms were +furnished and decorated in a fashion not common to lodging-houses.</p> + +<p>Then came the question of terms, references, and what not; and on all of +these points Mr. Brand showed himself remarkably complaisant. But when +all this was done he sat down, and said,</p> + +<p>"Now I wish you to understand me clearly, madame. This lady I have told +you about has come through much trouble; you are to be kind to her, and +I will see you do not lose by it. Her daughter will come to see her +frequently, perhaps every day; I suppose the young lady's maid can +remain down-stairs somewhere."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Very well. Now if you will be so good as to get me pen <!-- Page 275 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span>and ink I will +give you a check for fifty-two pounds—that is, a pound a week for a +year. You see, there are a number of little kindnesses you could show +this poor lady that would be all the more appreciated if they were not +put down in a book and charged for: you understand? You could find out, +perhaps, from time to time some little delicacy she is fond of. Then +flowers: there is a good florist's shop in Sloane Street is there not?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, sir."</p> + +<p>She brought the ink, and he drew out the check.</p> + +<p>"Then when the young lady comes to see her mother you will be very +attentive and kind to her too. You must not wait for them to ask for +this or that; you must come up to the door and say 'Will not the young +lady have a cup of chocolate?' or whatever you can suggest—fruit, +biscuits, wine, or what not. And as these little extras will cost you +something, I cannot allow you to be out of pocket; so here is a fund for +you to draw from; and, of course, not a word to either of the ladies. I +think you understand?"</p> + +<p>"Perfectly, sir," said madame.</p> + +<p>"Then, if I hear that you have been very kind and obliging, I suppose +one might be allowed from time to time to send you a little +present—something to beautify your house with? You have pretty rooms; +you have shown great taste in decorating them."</p> + +<p>"Oh, not I, sir," said the little Frenchwoman; "I took the house as it +stands from Mr. ——."</p> + +<p>"The architect," said Brand. "Ah, that explains. But I am surprised he +should have used gas."</p> + +<p>"That <i>was</i> my doing," said the landlady, with some pride. "It is a +great improvement. It is so convenient, is it not?"</p> + +<p>"My dear madame," said Brand, seriously, "it cannot be convenient to +have one's lungs poisoned with the smoke of London gas. You must on no +account allow this lady who is coming to your house to sit through the +long evenings with gas blazing over her head all the time; why, she +would have continual headache. No, no, you must get a couple of +lamps—one for the piano there, and a smaller reading-one fox this +little table by the fire. Then these sconces, you will get candles for +them, of course; red ones look pretty—not pink, but red."</p> + +<p>The French landlady seemed rather dismayed. She had been all smiles and +courtesy so far; but now the bargain did not promise to be so profitable +if this was the way she was to begin. But Brand pulled out his watch.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 276 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span></p><p>"If you will allow me," said he, "I will go and get a few things to +make the room look homely. You see this lady must be made as comfortable +as possible, for she will see no one but her daughter, and all the +evenings she will be alone. Now will you be so good as to have the fire +lit? And these little things I am about to get for you, of course they +will become your property; only you need not say who presented them to +you, you perceive?"</p> + +<p>The little woman's face grew happy again, and she assured him fervently +and repeatedly that he might trust her to do her best for this lady +about whom he seemed so anxious.</p> + +<p>It was almost dusk when he went out; most of the shops in Sloane Street +had their windows lit. He set about this further task of his with an +eager delight. For although it was ostensibly for Natalie's mother that +he was buying this and buying that, there was an underlying +consciousness that Natalie herself would be pleased—that many and many +a time she would occupy that pretty little sitting-room, that perhaps +she might guess who it was who had been so thoughtful about her mother +and herself. Fortunately Sloane Street is an excellent shopping +thoroughfare; he got everything he wanted—even wax candles of the +proper tint of red. He first of all went to the florist's and got fruit +and flowers enough to decorate a hall. Then from shop to shop he +wandered, buying books here, a couple of lamps there, a low, +softly-cushioned easy-chair, a fire-screen, pastils, tins of sweet +biscuits, a dozen or two of Hungarian wine, a tea-making apparatus, a +box of various games, some white rose scent, and he was very near adding +a sewing-machine, but thought he would wait to see whether she +understood the use of that instrument. All these and many other articles +were purchased on the explicit condition that they were to be delivered +in Hans Place within the following half-hour.</p> + +<p>Then he went back to the lodging-house, carrying in his hand the red +candles. These he placed himself in the sconces, and lit them; the +effect was good, now that the fire was blazing cheerfully. One by one +the things arrived; and gradually the lodging-house sitting-room grew +more and more like a home. He put the flowers here and there about the +place, the little Frenchwoman having brought him such, small jars and +vases as were in her possession—these fortunately including a couple of +bits of modern Venetian glass. The reading-lamp was lit and put on the +small table; the newly imported easy-chair was drawn to the fire; some +books and the evening papers scattered about. He lit one of the +<!-- Page 277 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span>pastils, put the fire-screen in its place, and had a last look round.</p> + +<p>Then he got into a hansom and drove up to the house in the Edgware Road. +He was immediately admitted and shown up-stairs. Natalie's mother rose +to receive him; he fancied she had been crying.</p> + +<p>"I am come to take you to your new rooms," he said, cheerfully. "They +are better than these."</p> + +<p>"Ah, that is kind of you," she said, also speaking in French; "but in +truth what do I care where I am? My heart is full of joy. It is enough +for me to sit quiet and say to myself, 'My child loves me. She has not +turned away from me. She is more beautiful even than I had believed; and +she has a good heart. I have no longer any fear.'"</p> + +<p>"Yes, madame," said he, "but you must not sit quiet and think like that, +or you will become ill, and then how are you to go out walking with +Natalie? You have many things to do, and many things to decide on. For +example, you will have to explain to her how it is you may not go to her +father's house. At this moment what other thing than that do you imagine +she is thinking about? She will ask you."</p> + +<p>"I would rather not tell her," said the mother, absently; "it is better +she should not know."</p> + +<p>He hesitated for a second or two.</p> + +<p>"Then it is impossible that a reconciliation between your husband and +yourself—"</p> + +<p>"Oh no, no!" she said, somewhat sadly; "that is impossible, now."</p> + +<p>"And you are anxious he should not know that you and your daughter see +each other."</p> + +<p>"I am not so anxious," she said. "I have faith in Natalushka: I can +perceive her courage. But perhaps it would be better."</p> + +<p>"Very well. Then come to these other rooms I have got for you; they are +in a more secluded neighborhood."</p> + +<p>"Very well, monsieur. I have but few things with me. I will be ready +soon."</p> + +<p>In less than half an hour after that the French landlady was receiving +her new guest; and so eager was she to show to the English gentleman her +gratitude for his substantial presents, that her officious kindness was +almost burdensome.</p> + +<p>"I thank you," said the new-comer, with a smile, as the landlady brought +her a cushion for her back the moment she sat down in the easy chair, +"but I am not yet an invalid."</p> + +<p>Then would madame have some tea? Or perhaps madame <!-- Page 278 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span>had not dined? There +was little in the house; but something could be prepared at once; from +to-morrow morning madame's instructions would be fulfilled to the +letter. To get rid of her, Brand informed her that madame had not dined, +and would be glad to have anything that happened to be in the house. +Then she left, and he was about to leave also.</p> + +<p>"No," said the beautiful mother to him, with a smile on the pale face. +"Sit down; I have something to say to you."</p> + +<p>He sat down, his hat still in his hand.</p> + +<p>"I have not thanked you," she said. "I see who has done all this: do you +think a stranger would know to have the white-rose scent for me that +Natalie uses? She was right: you are kind—you think of others."</p> + +<p>"It is nothing—it is nothing," he said, hastily, and with all an +Englishman's embarrassment.</p> + +<p>"My dear friend," said his companion, with a grave kindness in her tone, +and a look of affectionate interest in her eyes, "I am going to prove my +gratitude to you. I am going to prevent—what do you call it?—a lover's +quarrel."</p> + +<p>He started.</p> + +<p>"Yesterday," she continued, still regarding him in that kindly way, +"before we left your rooms, Natalushka was very reserved toward you; was +it not so? I perceived it; and you?"</p> + +<p>"I—I thought she was tired," he stammered.</p> + +<p>"To-morrow you are to fetch her here; and what if you find her still +more reserved—even cold toward you? You will be pained, perhaps +alarmed. Ah, my dear friend, life is made very bitter sometimes by +mistakes; so it is that I must tell you the reason. The child loves you; +be sure of that. Yes; but she thinks that she has been too frank in +saying so—in time of trouble and anxiety; and now—now that you are +perhaps not going to America—now that perhaps all the trouble is +over—now she is beginning to think she ought to be a little more +discreet, as other young ladies are. The child means no harm, but you +and she must not quarrel."</p> + +<p>He took her hand to bid her good-bye.</p> + +<p>"Natalie and I are not likely to quarrel," said he, cheerfully. "Now I +am going away. If I stayed, you would do nothing but talk about her, +whereas it is necessary that you should have some dinner, then read one +of these books for an hour or so, then go to bed and have a long, sound +night's rest. You must be looking your brightest when she comes to see +you to-morrow."</p> + +<p>And indeed, as it turned out subsequently, this warning; of <!-- Page 279 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span>the +mother's was not wholly unnecessary. Next day at eleven o'clock, as had +previously been arranged, Brand met Natalie at the corner of Great +Stanhope Street to escort her to the house to which her mother had +removed. He had not even got into the park with her when he perceived +that her manner was distinctly reserved. Anneli was with her, and she +kept talking from time to time to the little maid, who was thus obliged, +greatly against her will, to walk close to her mistress. At last Brand +said,</p> + +<p>"Natalie, have I offended you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh no!" she said, in a hurried, low voice.</p> + +<p>"Natalie," said he, very gently, "I once heard of a wicked creature who +was determined to play the hypocrite, and might have done a great deal +of mischief, only she had a most amiable mother, who stepped in and gave +somebody else a warning. Did you ever hear of such a wicked person?"</p> + +<p>The blood mounted to her face. By this time Anneli had taken leave to +fall behind.</p> + +<p>"Then," said the girl, with some hesitation, and yet with firmness, "you +will not misunderstand me. If all the circumstances are to be altered, +then—then you must forget what I have said to you in moments of +trouble. I have a right to ask it. You must forget the past altogether."</p> + +<p>"But it is impossible!"</p> + +<p>"It is necessary."</p> + +<p>For some minutes they walked on in silence. Then he felt a timid touch +on his arm; her hand had been laid there, deprecatingly, for a moment.</p> + +<p>"Are you angry with me?"</p> + +<p>"No, I am not," said he, frankly, "for the very reason that what you ask +is impossible, unnecessary, absurd. You might as well ask me to forget +that I am alive. In any case, isn't it rather too soon? Are you so sure +that all the trouble is past? Wait till the storm is well over, and we +are going into port, then we will put on our Sunday manners to go +ashore."</p> + +<p>"I am afraid you are angry with me," she said again, timidly.</p> + +<p>"You could not make me, if you tried," he said, simply; "but I am proud +of you, Natalie—proud of the courage and clearness and frankness of +your character, and I don't like to see you fall away from that, and +begin to consider what a school-mistress would think of you."</p> + +<p>"It is not what any one may think of me that I consider; <!-- Page 280 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span>it is what I +think of myself," she answered, in the same low voice.</p> + +<p>They reached Hans Place. The mother was at the door of the room to +welcome them. She took her daughter by the hand and led her in.</p> + +<p>"Look round, Natalushka," she said. "Can you guess who has arranged all +this for me—for me and for you?"</p> + +<p>The girl almost instantly turned—her eyes cast down—and took her +lover's hand, and kissed it in silence. That was all.</p> + +<p>Then said he, lightly, as he shoved the low easy-chair nearer the fire,</p> + +<p>"Come, madame, and sit down here; and you, Natalushka, here is a stool +for you, that you will be able to lean your head on your mother's knee. +There; it is a very pretty group: do you know why I make you into a +picture? Well, you see, these are troubled times; and one has one's work +to do; and who can tell what may happen? But don't you see that, +whatever may happen, I can carry away with me this picture; and always, +wherever I may be, I can say to myself that Natalie and her mother are +together in the quiet little room, and that they are happy. Now I must +bid you good-bye; I have a great deal of business to-day with my +solicitor. And the landlady, madame: how does she serve you?"</p> + +<p>"She overwhelms me with kindness."</p> + +<p>"That is excellent," said he, as he shook hands with them and, against +both their protests, took his leave.</p> + +<p>He carried away that picture in his mind. He had left these two +together, and they were happy. What mattered it to him what became of +himself?</p> + +<p>It was on the evening of that day that he had to obey the summons of the +Council.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XL" id="CHAPTER_XL"></a>CHAPTER XL.</h2> + +<h3>A CONCLAVE.</h3> + + +<p>Punctual to the moment George Brand arrived in Lisle Street. He was +shown into an inner room, where he found Lind seated at a desk, and +Reitzei and Beratinsky standing by the fireplace. On an adjacent table +where four cups of black coffee, four small glasses, a bottle of brandy, +and a box of cigarettes.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 281 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span></p><p>Lind rose to receive him, and was very courteous indeed—apologizing +for having had to break in on his preparations for leaving, and offering +him coffee, cigarettes, and what not. When the new-comer had declined +these, Lind resumed his place and begged the others to be seated.</p> + +<p>"We will proceed to business at once, gentlemen," said he, speaking in +quite an ordinary and matter-of-fact way, "although, I will confess to +you, it is not business entirely to my liking. Perhaps I should not say +so. This paper, you see, contains my authorization from the Council to +summon you and to explain the service they demand: perhaps I should +merely obey, and say nothing. But we are friends; we can speak in +confidence."</p> + +<p>Here Reitzei, who was even more pallid than usual, and whose fingers +seemed somewhat shaky, filled one of the small glasses of brandy, and +drank it off.</p> + +<p>"I do not say that I hesitate," continued Lind—"that I am reluctant, +because the service that is required from us—from one of us four—is +dangerous—is exceedingly dangerous. No," he said, with a brief smile, +"as far as I am myself concerned, I have carried my life in my hands too +often to think much about that. And you, gentlemen, considering the +obligations you have accepted, I take it that the question of possible +harm to yourselves is not likely to interfere with your obedience to the +commands of the Council."</p> + +<p>"As for me," said Reitzei, eagerly and nervously, "I tell you this, I +should like to have something exciting now—I do not care what. I am +tired of this work in London; it is slow, regular, like the ticking of a +clock. I am for something to stir the blood a little. I say that I am +ready for anything."</p> + +<p>"As for me," said Beratinsky, curtly, "no one has ever yet called me a +coward."</p> + +<p>Brand said nothing; but he perceived that this was something unusually +serious, and almost unconsciously he closed his right hand that he might +feel the clasp of Natalie's ring. There was no need to appeal to his +oaths of allegiance.</p> + +<p>Lind proceeded, in a graver fashion,</p> + +<p>"Yes, I confess that personally I am for avoiding violence, for +proceeding according to law. But then the Council would say, perhaps, +'Are there not injuries for which the law gives no redress? Are there +not those who are beyond the power of the law? And we, who have given +our lives to the redressing of wrongs, to the protection of the poor, to +the establishment of the right, are we to stand by and see the <!-- Page 282 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span>moral +sense of the community outraged by those in high places, and say no +word, and lift no hand?'"</p> + +<p>He took up a book that was lying on the table, and opened it at a marked +page.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, "there are occasions on which a man may justly take the +law into his own hands; may break the law, and go beyond it, and punish +those whom the law has failed to punish; and the moral sense of the +world will say, 'Well done!' Did you ever happen to read, Mr. Brand, the +letter written by Madame von Maderspach?"</p> + +<p>Brand started at the mention of the name: it recalled the first evening +on which he had seen Natalie. What strange things had happened since +then! He answered that he did not know of Madame von Maderspach's +letter.</p> + +<p>"By chance I came across it to-day," said Lind, looking at the book. +"Listen: 'I was torn from the arms of my husband, from the circle of my +children, from the hallowed sanctuary of my home, charged with no +offence, allowed no hearing, arraigned before no judge. I, a woman, +wife, and mother, was in my own native town, before the people +accustomed to treat me with respect, dragged into a square of soldiers, +and there scourged with rods. Look, I can write this without dropping +dead! But my husband killed himself. Robbed of all other weapons, he +shot himself with a pocket-pistol. The people rose, and would have +killed those who instigated these horrors, but their lives were saved by +the interference of the military.' Very well. Von Maderspach took his +own way; he shot himself. But if, instead of doing that, he had taken +the law into his own hands, and killed the author of such an outrage, do +you think there is a human being in the world who would have blamed +him?"</p> + +<p>He appealed directly to Brand. Brand answered calmly, but with his face +grown rather white, "I think if such a <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: "think" in the original text"> +thing</ins> were done to—to my wife, I would have a shot at +somebody."</p> + +<p>Perhaps Lind thought that it was the recital of the wrongs of Madame von +Maderspach that had made this man's face grow white, and given him that +look about the mouth; but at all events he continued, "Exactly so. I was +only seeking to show you that there are occasions on which a man might +justly take the law into his own hands. Well, then, some would argue—I +don't say so myself, but some would say—that what a man may do justly +an association may do justly. What would the quick-spreading +civilization of America have done but for the Lynch tribunals? The +respectable people <!-- Page 283 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span>said to themselves, 'it is question of life or +death. We have to attack those scoundrels at once, or society will be +destroyed. We cannot wait for the law: it is powerless.' And so when the +president had given his decision, out they went and caught the +scoundrels, and strung them up to the nearest tree. You do not call them +murderers. John Lynch ought to have a statue in every Western State in +America."</p> + +<p>"Certainly, certainly!" exclaimed Reitzei, reaching over and filling out +another glass of brandy with an unsteady hand. He was usually an +exceedingly temperate person. "We are all agreed. Justice must be done, +whether the law allows or not; I say the quicker the better."</p> + +<p>Lind paid no heed to him, but proceeded quietly, "Now I will come more +directly to what is required of us by the Council; I have been trying to +guess at their view of the question; perhaps I am altogether wrong; but +no matter. And I will ask you to imagine yourselves not here in this +free country of England, where the law is strong—and not only that, but +you have a public opinion that is stronger still—and where it is not +possible that a great Churchman should be a man living in open iniquity, +and an oppressor and a scoundrel—I will ask you to imagine yourselves +living in Italy, let one say in the Papal Territory itself, where the +reign of Christ should be, and where the poor should be cared for, if +there is Christianity still on the earth. And you are poor, let us say; +hardly knowing how to scrape together a handful of food sometimes; and +your children ragged and hungry; and you forced from time to time to go +to the Monte di Pieta to pawn your small belongings, or else you will +die, or you will see your children die before your eyes."</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes, yes!" exclaimed Reitzei. "That is the worst of it—to see +one's children die! That is worse than one's own hunger."</p> + +<p>"And you," continued Lind, quietly, but still with a little more +distinctness of emphasis, "you, you poor devils, you see a great +dignitary of the Church, a great prince among priests, living in +shameless luxury, in violation of every law, human and divine, with the +children of his mistresses set up in palaces, himself living on the fat +of the land. What law does he not break, this libertine, this usurer? +What makes the corn dear, so that you cannot get it for your starving +children?—what but this plunderer, this robber, seizing the funds that +extremity has dragged from the poor in order to buy up the grain of the +States? A pretty speculation! No wonder that you murmur and complain; +that you curse <!-- Page 284 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span>him under your breath, that you call him <i>il cardinale +affamatore</i>. And no wonder, if you happen to belong to a great +association that has promised to see justice done, no wonder you come to +that association and say, 'Masters, why cannot justice be done now? It +is too long to wait for the Millennium. Remove this oppressor from the +face of the earth: down with the Starving Cardinal!'"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, yes!" cried Reitzei, excitedly. Beratinsky sat silent and +sullen. Brand, with some strange foreboding of what was coming, still +sat with his hand tight closed on Natalie's ring.</p> + +<p>"More," continued Lind—and now, if he was acting, it was a rare piece +of acting, for wrath and indignation gathered on his brow, and increased +the emphasis of his voice—"it is not only your purses, it is not only +your poor starved homesteadings that are attacked, it is the honor of +your women. Whose sister or daughter is safe? Mr. Brand, one of your +English poets has made the poor cry to the rich,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0" style="margin-left: -1em">"'Our sons are your slaves by day,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our daughters your slaves by night.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>But what if some day a poor man—I will tell you his name—his name is +De Bedros; he is not a peasant, but a helpless, poor old man—what if +this man comes to the great association that I have mentioned and says, +wringing his hands, 'My Brothers and Companions, you have sworn to +protect the weak and avenge the injured: what is your oath worth if you +do not help me now? My daughter, my only daughter, has been taken from +me, she has been stolen from my side, shrieking with fear, and I thrown +bleeding into the ditch. By whom? By one who is beyond the law; who +laughs at the law; who is the law! But you—you will be the avengers. +Too long has this monster outraged the name of Christ and insulted the +forbearance of his fellow creatures: my Brothers, this is what I demand +from your hands—I demand from the SOCIETY OF THE SEVEN STARS—I demand +from you, the Council—I demand, my Brothers and Companions, a decree of +death against the monster Zaccatelli!'"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, yes, the decree!" shouted Reitzei, all trembling. "Who could +refuse it? Or I myself—"</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen," said Lind, calmly, "the decree has been granted. Here is my +authority; read it."</p> + +<p>He held out the paper first of all to Brand, who took it in both his +hands, and forced himself to go over it. But he <!-- Page 285 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span>could not read it very +carefully; his heart was beating quickly; he was thinking of a great +many things all at once—of Lord Evelyn, of Natalie, of his oaths to the +Society, even of his Berkshire home and the beech-woods. He handed on +the paper to Reitzei, who was far too much excited to read it at all. +Beratinsky merely glanced at it carelessly, and put it back on the +table.</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen," Lind continued, returning to his unemotional manner, +"personally, I consider it just that this man, whom the law cannot or +does not choose to reach, should be punished for his long career of +cruelty, oppression, and crime, and punished with death! but, as I +confessed to you before, I could have wished that that punishment had +not been delivered by our hands. We have made great progress in England; +and we have been preaching nothing but peace and good-will, and the use +of lawful means of amelioration. If this deed is traced to our Society, +as it almost certainly will be, it will do us a vast amount of injury +here; for the English people will not be able to understand that such a +state of affairs as I have described can exist, or that this is the only +remedy. As I said to you before, it is with great reluctance that I +summoned you here to-night—"</p> + +<p>"Why so, Brother Lind?" Reitzei broke in, and again he reached over for +the bottle. "We are not cowards, then?"</p> + +<p>Beratinsky took the bottle from him and put it back on the table.</p> + +<p>Reitzei did not resent this interference; he only tried to roll up a +cigarette, and did not succeed very well with his trembling fingers.</p> + +<p>"You will have seen," said Lind, continuing as if there had been no +interruption, "why the Council have demanded this duty of the English +section. The lesson would be thrown away altogether—a valuable life +belonging to the Society would be lost—if it were supposed that this +was an act of private revenge. No; the death of Cardinal Zaccatelli will +be a warning that Europe will take to heart. At least," he added, +thoughtfully, "I hope it will prove to be so, and I hope it will be +unnecessary to repeat the warning."</p> + +<p>"You are exceedingly tender-hearted, Brother Lind," said Reitzei. "Do +you pity this man, then? Do you think he should flourish his crimes in +the face of the world for another twenty, thirty years?"</p> + +<p>"It is unnecessary to say what I think," observed Lind, in the same +quiet fashion. "It is enough for us that we know our duty. The Council +have commanded; we obey."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 286 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span></p><p>"Yes; but let us come to the point, Brother Lind," said Beratinsky, in +a somewhat surly fashion. "I do not much care what happens to me; yet +one wishes to know."</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen," said Lind, composedly, "you know that among the ordinances +of the Society is one to the effect that no member shall be sent on any +duty involving peril to his life without a ballot among at least four +persons. As this particular service is one demanding great secrecy and +circumspection, I have considered it right to limit the ballot to +four—to ourselves, in fact."</p> + +<p>There was not a word said.</p> + +<p>"That the duty involves peril to life is obvious; it will be a miracle +if he who undertakes this affair should escape. As for myself, you will +perceive by the paper you have read that I am commissioned by the +Council to form the ballot, but not instructed to include myself. I +could avoid doing so if I chose, but when I ask my friends to run a +risk, I am willing to take the same risk. For the rest, I have been in +as dangerous enterprises before."</p> + +<p>He leaned over and pulled toward him a sheet of paper. Then he took a +pair of scissors and cut the sheet into four pieces; these he proceeded +to fold up until they were about the size of a shilling, and identically +alike. All the time he was talking.</p> + +<p>"Yes, it will be a dangerous business," he said, slowly, "and one +requiring great forethought and caution. Then I do not say it is +altogether impossible one might escape; though then the warning, the +lesson of this act of punishment might not be so effective: they might +mistake it for a Camorra affair, though the Cardinal himself already +knows otherwise."</p> + +<p>He opened a bottle of red ink that stood by.</p> + +<p>"The simplest means are sufficient," said he. "This is how we used to +settle affairs in '48."</p> + +<p>He opened one of the pieces of paper, and put a cross in red on it, +which he dried on the blotting-paper. Then he folded it up again, threw +the four pieces into a pasteboard box, put down the lid, and shook the +box lightly.</p> + +<p>"Whoever draws the red cross," he said, almost indifferently, "carries +out the command of the Council. Have you anything to say, gentlemen—to +suggest?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Reitzei, boldly.</p> + +<p>Lind regarded him.</p> + +<p>"What is the use of the ballot?" said the pallid-faced young man. "What +if one volunteers? I should myself like to settle the business of the +scoundrelly Cardinal."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 287 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span></p><p>Lind shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Impossible. Calabressa thought of a volunteer; he was mad! There must +be a ballot. Come; shall we proceed?"</p> + +<p>He opened the box and put it before Beratinsky. Beratinsky took out one +of the papers, opened it, glanced at it, crumpled it up, and threw it +into the fire.</p> + +<p>"It isn't I, at all events," he said.</p> + +<p>It was Reitzei next. When he glanced at the paper he had drawn, he +crushed it together with an oath, and dashed it on the floor.</p> + +<p>"Of course, of course," he exclaimed, "just when I was eager for a bit +of active service. So it is you, Brother Lind, or our friend Brand who +is to settle the business of the Starving Cardinal."</p> + +<p>Calmly, almost as a matter of course, Lind handed the box to George +Brand; and he, being a proud man, and in the presence of foreigners, was +resolved to show no sign of emotion whatever. When he took out the paper +and opened it, and saw his fate there in the red cross, he laid it on +the table before him without a word. Then he shut his hand on Natalie's +ring.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Lind, rather sadly, as he took out the remaining paper +without looking at it, and threw aside the box, "I almost regret it, as +between you and me. I have less of life to look forward to."</p> + +<p>"I would like to ask one question," said Brand, rising: he was perfectly +firm.</p> + +<p>"Yes?"</p> + +<p>"The orders of the Council must be obeyed. I only wish to know +whether—when—when this thing comes to be done—I must declare my own +name?"</p> + +<p>"Not at all—not at all!" Lind said, quickly. "You may use any name you +like."</p> + +<p>"I am glad of that," he said. Then, with the same proud, impassive +firmness, he made an appointment for the next day, got his hat and coat, +bade his companions good-night, and went down-stairs into the cold night +air. He could not realize as yet all that had happened, but his first +quick, instinctive thought had been,</p> + +<p>"Ah, not that—not the name that my mother bore!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><!-- Page 288 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLI" id="CHAPTER_XLI"></a>CHAPTER XLI.</h2> + +<h3>IN THE DEEPS.</h3> + + +<p>The sudden shock of the cold night air was a relief to his burning +brain; and so also as he passed into the crowded streets, was the low +continuous thunder all around him. The theatres were coming out; cabs, +omnibuses, carriages added to the muffled roar; the pavements were +thronged with people talking, laughing, jostling, calling out one to the +other. He was glad to lose himself in this seething multitude; he was +glad to be hidden by the darkness; he would try to think.</p> + +<p>But his thoughts were too rapid and terrible to be very clear. He only +vaguely knew—it was a consciousness that seemed to possess both heart +and brain like a consuming fire—that the beautiful dreams he had been +dreaming of a future beyond the wide Atlantic, with Natalie living and +working by his side, her proud spirit cheering him on, and refusing to +be daunted—these dreams had been suddenly snatched away from him; and +in their stead, right before him, stood this pitiless, inexorable fate. +He could not quite tell how it had all occurred, but there at least was +the horrible certainty, staring him right in the face. He could not +avoid it; he could not shut his eyes to it, or draw back from it; there +was no escape. Then some wild desire to have the thing done at once +possessed him. At once—at once—and then the grave would cover over his +remorse and despair. Natalie would forget; she had her mother now to +console her. Evelyn would say, "Poor devil, he was not the first who got +into mischief by meddling in schemes without knowing how far he might +have to go." Then amidst all this confused din of the London streets, +what was the phrase that kept ringing in his ears?—"<i>And when she bids +die he shall surely die!</i>" But he no longer heard the pathetic vibration +of Natalie Lind's voice; the words seemed to him solemn, and distant, +and hopeless, like a knell. But only if it were over—that was again his +wild desire. In the grave was forgetfulness and peace.</p> + +<p>Presently a curious fancy seized him. At the corner of Windmill Street a +ragged youth was bawling out the name of a French journal. Brand bought +a copy of the journal, passed on, and walked into an adjacent cafe, and +took a seat at one of the small tables. A waiter came to him, and he +mechanic<!-- Page 289 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span>ally ordered coffee. He began to search this newspaper for the +array of paragraphs usually headed <i>Tribunaux</i>.</p> + +<p>At last, in the corner of the newspaper, he found that heading, though +under it there was nothing of any importance or interest. But it was the +heading itself that had a strange fascination for him. He kept his eyes +fixed on it. Then he began to see detached phrases and sentences—or, +perhaps, it was only in his brain that he saw them: "The Assassination +of Count Zaccatelli! The accused, an Englishman, who refuses to declare +his name, admits that he had no personal enmity—commanded to execute +this horrible crime—a punishment decreed by a society which he will not +name—confesses his guilt—is anxious to be sentenced at once, and to +die as soon as the law permits.... This morning the assassin of Cardinal +Zaccatelli, who has declared his name to be Edward Bernard, was +executed."</p> + +<p>He hurriedly folded up the paper, just as if he were afraid of some one +overlooking and reading these words, and glanced around. No one was +regarding him. The cafe was nearly full, and there was plenty of +laughing and talking amidst the glare of the gas. He slunk out of the +place, leaving the coffee untasted. But when he had got outside he +straightened himself up, and his face assumed a firmer expression. He +walked quickly along to Clarges Street. The Evelyns' house was dark from +top to bottom; apparently the family had retired for the night. "Perhaps +he is at the Century," Brand said to himself, as he started off again. +But just as he got to the corner of the street a hansom drove up, and +the driver taking the corner too quickly, sent the wheel on to the curb.</p> + +<p>"Why don't you look where you're going to?" a voice called out from the +inside of the cab.</p> + +<p>"Is that you, Evelyn?" Brand cried.</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is," was the reply; and the hansom was stopped, and Lord Evelyn +descended. "I am happy to say that I can still answer for myself. I +thought we were in for a smash."</p> + +<p>"Can you spare me five minutes?"</p> + +<p>"Five hours if you like."</p> + +<p>The man was paid; the two friends walked along the pavement together.</p> + +<p>"I am glad to have found you after all, Evelyn," Brand said. "The fact +is, my nerves have had a bad shake."</p> + +<p>"I never knew you had any. I always fancied you could drive a +fire-brigade engine full gallop along the Strand on a wet night, with +the theatres coming out."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 290 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span></p><p>"A few minutes' talk with you will help me to pull myself together +again. Need we go into the house?"</p> + +<p>"We sha'n't wake anybody."</p> + +<p>They noiselessly went into the house, and passed along the hall until +they reached a small room behind the dining-room. The gas was lit, +burning low. There were biscuits, seltzer-water, and spirits on the +table.</p> + +<p>Lord Evelyn was in the act of turning the gas higher, when he happened +to catch sight of his friend. He uttered a quick exclamation. Brand, who +sat down in a chair, was crying, with his hands over his face, like a +woman.</p> + +<p>"Great heavens, what is it, Brand?"</p> + +<p>That confession of weakness did not last long. Brand rose to his feet +impatiently, and took a turn or two up and down the small room.</p> + +<p>"What is it? Well, I have received my sentence to-night, Evelyn. But it +isn't that—it is the thought of those I shall leave behind—Natalie, +and those boys of my sister's—if people were to find out after all that +they were related to me!"</p> + +<p>He was looking at the things that presented themselves to his own mind; +he forgot that Evelyn could not understand; he almost forgot that he was +speaking aloud. But by-and-by he got himself better under control. He +sat down again. He forced himself to speak calmly: the only sign of +emotion was that his face was rather pale, and his eyes looked tired and +harassed.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I told you my nervous system had got a shock, Evelyn; but I think +I have got over it. It won't do for me in my position to abandon one's +self to sentiment."'</p> + +<p>"I wish you would tell me what you mean."</p> + +<p>Brand regarded him.</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell you the whole thing, but this will be enough. The Council +have decreed the death of a certain person, and I am appointed his +executioner."</p> + +<p>"You are raving mad!"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it would be better if I were," he said, with a sigh. "However, +such is the fact. The ballot was taken to-night; the lot fell to me. I +have no one to blame except myself."</p> + +<p>Lord Evelyn was too horrified to speak. The calm manner of his companion +ought to have carried conviction with it; and yet—and yet—how could +such a thing be possible?</p> + +<p>"Yes, I blame myself," Brand said, "for not having made certain +reservations when pledging myself to the Society. But how was one to +think of such things? When Lind used <!-- Page 291 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span>to denounce the outrages of the +Nihilists, and talk with indignation of the useless crimes of the +Camorra, how could one have thought it possible that assassination +should be demanded of you as a duty?"</p> + +<p>"But Lind," Lord Evelyn exclaimed—"surely Lind does not approve of such +a thing?"</p> + +<p>"No, he does not," Brand answered. "He says it will prove a +misfortune—"</p> + +<p>"Then why does he not protest?"</p> + +<p>"Protest against a decree of the Council!" the other exclaimed. "You +don't know as much as I do, Evelyn, about that Council. No, I have sworn +obedience, and I will obey."</p> + +<p>He had recovered his firmness; he seemed resigned—even resolved. It was +his friend who was excited.</p> + +<p>"I tell you all the oaths in the world cannot compel a man to commit +murder," Evelyn said, hotly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, they don't call it murder," Brand replied, without any bitterness +whatever; "they call it a punishment, a warning to the evil-doers of +Europe. And no doubt this man is a great scoundrel, and cannot be +reached by the law; and then, besides, one of the members of the +Society, who is poor and old, and who has suffered grievous wrong from +this man, has appealed to the Council to avenge him. No; I can see their +positions. I have no doubt they believe they are acting justly."</p> + +<p>"But you yourself do not think so."</p> + +<p>"My dear fellow, it is not for the private soldier to ask whether his +sovereign has gone to war justly or unjustly. It is his business to obey +commands—to kill, if need be—according to his oath."</p> + +<p>"Why, you are taking the thing as a matter of course," Lord Evelyn +cried, indignantly. "I cannot believe if possible yet! And—and if it +were possible—consider how I should upbraid myself: it was I who led +you into this affair, Brand."</p> + +<p>"Oh no," said the other, absently.</p> + +<p>He was staring into the smouldering fire; and for a second or two he sat +in silence. Then he said, slowly and thoughtfully,</p> + +<p>"I am afraid I have led a very selfish life. Natalie would not say so; +she is generous. But it is true. Well, this will make some atonement. +She will know that I kept my word to her. She gave me that ring, +Evelyn."</p> + +<p>He held out his hand for a moment</p> + +<p>"It was a pledge that I should never draw back from my allegiance to the +Society. Well, neither she nor I then fan<!-- Page 292 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span>cied this thing could happen; +but now I am not going to turn coward. You saw me show the white +feather, Evelyn, for a minute or two: I don't think it was about myself; +it was about her—and—and one or two others. You see our talking +together has sent off all that nervous excitement; now we can speak +about business—"</p> + +<p>"I will not—I will not!" Evelyn said, still greatly moved. "I will go +to Lind himself. I will tell him that no duty of this kind was ever +contemplated by any one joining here. It may be all very well for Naples +or Sicily; it won't do for the people on this side the Channel: it will +ruin his work: he must appeal—I will drive him to it!"</p> + +<p>"My dear fellow," Brand said, quietly, "I told you Lind has accepted the +execution of this affair with reluctance. He knows it will do our +work—well, my share in it will be soon over—no good. But in this +business there in no appeal. You are only a companion; you don't know +what stringent vows you have to undertake when you get into the other +grades. Moreover, I must tell you this thing to his credit. He is not +bound to take the risk of the ballot himself, but he did to-night. It is +all over and settled, Evelyn. What is one man's life, more or less? +People go to throw away hundreds of thousands of lives 'with a light +heart.' And even if this affair should give a slight shock to some of +our friends here, the effect will not be permanent. The organization is +too big, too strong, too eager, to be really injured by such a trifle. I +want to talk about business matters now."</p> + +<p>"I won't hear you—I will not allow this," Lord Evelyn protested, +trembling with excitement.</p> + +<p>"You must <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: "here" in the original text"> +hear</ins> me; the time is short," Brand said, +with decision. "When this thing has to be done I don't know; I shall +probably hear to-morrow; but I must at once take steps to prevent shame +falling on the few relatives I have. I shall pretend to set out on some +hunting-expedition or other—Africa is a good big place for one to lose +one's self in—and if I do not return, what then? I shall leave you my +executor, Evelyn; or, rather, it will be safer to do the whole thing by +deed of gift. I shall give my eldest sister's son the Buckinghamshire +place; then I must leave the other one something. Five hundred pounds at +four per cent, would pay that poor devil Kirski's rent for him, and help +him on a bit. Then I am going to make you a present, Evelyn; so you see +you shall benefit too. Then as for Natalie—or rather, her mother—"</p> + +<p>"Her mother!" Evelyn stared at him.</p> + +<p>"Natalie's mother is in London: you will learn her story <!-- Page 293 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span>from herself," +Brand continued, briefly. "In the mean time, do not tell Lind until she +permits you. I have taken rooms for her in Hans Place, and Natalie will +no doubt go to see her each day; but I am afraid the poor lady is not +very well off, for the family has always been in political troubles. +Well, you see, Evelyn, I could leave you a certain sum, the interest of +which you could manage to convey to her in some roundabout and delicate +way that would not hurt her pride. You could do this, of course."</p> + +<p>"But you are talking as if your death was certain!" Lord Evelyn +exclaimed, rather wildly. "Even if it is all true, you might escape."</p> + +<p>Brand turned away his head as he spoke.</p> + +<p>"Do you think, then," he said, slowly, "that, even if that were +possible, I should care to live red-handed? The Council cannot demand +that of me too. If there is one bullet for him, the next one will be for +myself; and if I miss the first shot I shall make sure about the second. +There will be no examination of the prisoner, as far as I am concerned. +I shall leave a paper stating the object and cause of my attempt; but I +shall go into it nameless, and the happiest thing I can hope for is that +forgetfulness will gather round it and me as speedily as may be."</p> + +<p>Lord Evelyn was deeply distressed. He could no longer refuse to believe; +and inadvertently he bethought himself of the time when he had besought +and entreated this old friend of his to join the great movement that was +to regenerate Europe. Was this the end, then—a vulgar crime?—the +strong, manly, generous life to be thrown away, and Natalie left +broken-hearted?</p> + +<p>"What about her?" he asked, timidly.</p> + +<p>"About Natalie, do you mean?" said Brand, starting somewhat. "Curiously +enough, I was thinking about her also. I was wondering whether it could +be concealed from her—whether it would not be better to let her imagine +with the others that I had got drowned or killed somewhere. But I could +not do that. The uncertainty would hang over her for years. Better the +sharp pain, at once—of parting; then her mother must take charge of her +and console her, and be kind to her. What I fear most is that she may +blame herself—she may fancy that she is some how responsible—"</p> + +<p>"It is I, surely, who must take, that blame on myself," said Lord +Evelyn, sadly. "But for me, how could you have been led into joining the +Society?"</p> + +<p>"Neither she nor you have anything to reproach yourselves <!-- Page 294 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span>with. What +was my life worth to me when I joined? Then for a time I saw a vision of +what may yet be in the world—of what will be, please God; and what does +it matter if one here or one there falls out of the ranks?—the great +army is moving on: and for a time there were others visions. Poor +Natalie!—I am glad her mother has come to her at last."</p> + +<p>He rose.</p> + +<p>"I wish I could offer you a bed here," Lord Evelyn said.</p> + +<p>"I have a great many things to arrange to-night," he answered, simply. +"Perhaps I may not be able to get to bed at all."</p> + +<p>Lord Evelyn hesitated.</p> + +<p>"When can I see you to-morrow?" he said at length. "You know I am going +to Lind the first thing in the morning."</p> + +<p>Brand stopped abruptly.</p> + +<p>"I must absolutely forbid your doing anything of the kind," said he, +firmly. "This is a matter of the greatest secrecy; there is to be no +talking about it; I have given you some hint, and the same I shall give +to Natalie, and there an end." He added, "Your interference would be +quite useless, Evelyn. The matter is not in Lind's hands."</p> + +<p>He bade his friend good-night.</p> + +<p>"Thank you for letting me bore you so long. You see, I expected talking +over the thing would drive off that first shock of nervousness. Now I am +going to play the part of Karl Sand with indifference. When you hear of +me, you will think I must have been brought up by the Tugendbund or the +Carbonari, or some of those societies."</p> + +<p><ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: Extra "," deleted from the original text"> +This</ins> cheerfulness did not quite deceive Lord +Evelyn. He bade his friend good-night with some sadness; his mind was +not at ease about the share he attributed to himself in this calamity.</p> + +<p>When Brand reached his chambers in Buckingham Street there was a small +parcel awaiting him. He opened it, and found a box with, inside, a tiny +nosegay of sweet-smelling flowers. These were not half as splendid as +those he had got the previous afternoon for the rooms in Hans Place, but +there was something accompanying them that gave them sufficient value. +It was a strip of paper, and on it was written—"From Natalie and from +Natalushka, with more than thanks."</p> + +<p>"I will carry them with me," he thought to himself, "until the day of my +death. Perhaps they may not have quite withered by then."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><!-- Page 295 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLII" id="CHAPTER_XLII"></a>CHAPTER XLII.</h2> + +<h3>A COMMUNICATION.</h3> + + +<p>Now, he said to himself, he would think no more; he would act. The long +talk with Lord Evelyn had enabled him to pull himself together; there +would be no repetition of that half-hysterical collapse. More than one +of his officer-friends had confessed to him that they had spent the +night before their first battle in abject terror, but that that had all +gone off as soon as they were called into action. And as for himself, he +had many things to arrange before starting on this hunting-expedition, +which was to serve as a cloak for another enterprise. He would have to +write at once, for example, to his sister—an invalid widow, who passed +her life alternately on the Riviera and in Switzerland—informing her of +his intended travels. He would have to see that a sufficient sum was +left for Natalie's mother, and put into discreet hands. The money for +the man Kirski would have to be properly tied up, lest it should prove a +temptation. Why, those two pieces of Italian embroidery lying there, he +had bought them months ago, intending to present them to Natalie, but +from time to time the opportunity had been missed. And so forth, and so +forth.</p> + +<p>But despite all this fortitude, and these commonplace and practical +considerations, his eyes would wander to that little handful of flowers +lying on the table, and his thoughts would wander farther still. As he +pictured to himself his going to the young Hungarian girl, and taking +her hand, and telling her that now it was no longer a parting for a +couple of years, but a parting forever, his heart grew cold and sick. He +thought of her terrified eyes, of her self-reproaches, of her +entreaties, perhaps.</p> + +<p>"I wish Evelyn would tell her," he murmured aloud, and he went to the +window. "Surely it would be better if I were never to see her again."</p> + +<p>It was a long and agonizing night, despite all his resolutions. The gray +morning, appearing palely over the river and the bridges, found him +still pacing up and down there, with nothing settled at all, no letter +written, no memoranda made. All that the night had done was to increase +a hundred-fold his dread of meeting Natalie. And now the daylight only +told him that that interview was coming nearer. It had become a question +of hours.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 296 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span></p><p>At last, worn out with fatigue and despair, he threw himself on a couch +hard by, and presently sunk into a broken and troubled sleep. For now +the mind, emancipated from the control of the will, ran riot; and the +quick-changing pictures that were presented to him were full of fearful +things that shook his very life with terror. Awake he could force +himself to think of this or that; asleep, he was at the mercy of this +lurid imagination that seemed to dye each successive scene in the hue of +blood. First of all, he was in a great cathedral, sombre and vast, and +by the dim light of the candles he saw that some solemn ceremony was +going forward. Priests, mitred and robed, sat in a semicircle in front +of the altar; on the altar-steps were three figures; behind the altar a +space of gloom, from whence issued the soft, clear singing of the +choristers. Then, suddenly, into that clear sweet singing broke a loud +blare of trumpets; a man bounded on to the altar-steps; there was the +flash of a blade—a shriek—a fall; then the roar of a crowd, sullen, +and distant, and awful. It is the cry of a great city; and this poor +crouching fugitive, who hides behind the fountain in the Place, is +watching for his chance to dart away into some place of safety. But the +crowd have let him pass; they are merciful; they are glad of the death +of their enemy; it is only the police he has to fear. What lane is dark +enough? What ruins must he haunt, like a dog, in the night-time? But the +night is full of fire, and the stars overhead are red, and everywhere +there is a roar and a murmur—<i>the assassination of the Cardinal</i>!</p> + +<p>Well, it is quieter in this dungeon; and soon there will be an end, and +peace. But for the letters of fire that burns one's brain the place +would be as black as night; and it is still as night; one can sit and +listen. And now that dull throbbing sound—and a strain of music—is it +the young wife who, all unknowing, is digging her husband's grave? How +sad she is! She pities the poor prisoner, whoever he may be. She would +not dig this grave if she knew: she calls herself <i>Fidelio</i>; she is +faithful to her love. But now—but now—though this hole is black as +night, and silent, and the waters are lapping outside, cannot one know +what is passing there? There are some who are born to be happy. Ah, look +at the faithful wife now, as she strikes off her husband's +fetters—listen to the glad music, <i>destin ormai felice!</i>—they take +each other's hand—they go away proudly into the glad daylight—husband +and wife together for evermore. This poor prisoner listens, though his +heart will break. The happy music grows more and more faint—the husband +and wife are together now—the beautiful <!-- Page 297 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span>white day is around them—the +poor prisoner is left alone: there is no one even coming to bid him +farewell.</p> + +<p>The sleeper moaned in his sleep, and stretched out his hand as if to +seek some other hand.</p> + +<p>"No one—not even a word of good-bye!" he murmured.</p> + +<p>But then the dream changed. And now it was a wild and windy day in the +blowing month of March, and the streams in this Buckinghamshire valley +were swollen, and the woods were bare. Who are these two who come into +the small and bleak church-yard? They are a mother and daughter; they +are all in black; and the face of the daughter is pale, and her eyes +filled with tears. Her face is white, and the flowers she carries are +white, and that is the white tombstone there in the corner—apart from +the others. See how she kneels down at the foot of the grave, and puts +the flowers lightly on the grass, and clasps her trembling hands, and +prays.</p> + +<p>"<i>Natalie—my wife!</i>" he calls in his sleep.</p> + +<p>And behold! the white tombstone has letters of fire written on it, and +the white flowers are changed to drops of blood, and the two black +figures have hurried away and disappeared. How the wind tears down this +wide <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: "valiey" in the original text"> +valley</ins>, in which there is no sign of life. +It is so sad to be left alone.</p> + +<p>Well, it was about eight o'clock when he was awakened by the entrance of +Waters. He jumped up, and looked around, haggard and bewildered. Then +his first thought was,</p> + +<p>"A few more nights like this, and Zaccatelli will have little to fear."</p> + +<p>He had his bath and breakfast; all the time he was forcing himself into +an indignant self-contempt. He held out his hand before him, expecting +to see it tremble: but no. This reassured him somewhat.</p> + +<p>A little before eleven he was at the house in Hans Place. He was +immediately shown up-stairs. Natalie's mother was there to receive him, +she did not notice he looked tired.</p> + +<p>"Natalie is coming to you this morning?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes; why not? It gives her pleasure, it gives me joy. But I will not +keep the child always in the house; no, she must have her walk. +Yesterday, after you had left, we went to a very secluded place—a +church not far from here, and a cemetery behind."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; I know," he said. "But you might have chosen a more cheerful +place for your walk."</p> + +<p>"Any place is cheerful enough for me when my daughter is with me," said +she, simply; "and it is quiet."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 298 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span></p><p>George Brand sat with his hands clinched. Every moment he thought he +should hear Natalie knock at the door below.</p> + +<p>"Madame," he said, with some little hesitation, "something has happened +of serious importance—I mean, of a little importance. When Natalie +comes I must tell her—"</p> + +<p>"And you wish to see her alone, perhaps?" said the mother, lightly. "Why +not? And listen—it is she herself, I believe!"</p> + +<p>A minute afterward the door was opened, and Natalie entered, radiant, +happy, with glad eyes. Then she started when she saw George Brand there, +but there was no fear in her look. On the contrary, she embraced her +mother; then she went to him, and said, with a pleased flush in her +face,</p> + +<p>"I had no message this morning. You did not care, then, for our little +bunch of flowers?"</p> + +<p>He took her hand, and held it for a second.</p> + +<p>"I thought I should see you to-day, Natalie; I have something to tell +you."</p> + +<p>Her face grew graver.</p> + +<p>"Is it something serious?"</p> + +<p>"Well," said he, to gain time, for the mother was still in the room, "it +is serious or not serious, as you like to take it. It does not involve +the fate of a nation, for example."</p> + +<p>"It is mysterious, at all events."</p> + +<p>At this moment the elder woman took occasion to slip noiselessly from +the room.</p> + +<p>"Natalie," said he, "sit down here by me."</p> + +<p>She put the footstool on which she was accustomed to sit at her mother's +side close to his chair, and seated herself. He took her hand and held +it tight.</p> + +<p>"Natalie," said he, in a low voice—and he was himself rather pale—"I +am going to tell you something that may perhaps startle you, and even +grieve you; but you must keep command over yourself, or you will alarm +your mother—"</p> + +<p>"You are not in danger?" she cried, quickly, but in a low voice: there +was something in his tone that alarmed her.</p> + +<p>"The thing is simple enough," he said, with a forced composure. "You +know that when one has joined a certain Society, and especially when one +has accepted the responsibilities I have, there is nothing that may not +be demanded. Look at this ring, Natalie."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes," she said, breathlessly.</p> + +<p>"That is a sufficient pledge, even if there were no others. I have sworn +allegiance to the Society at all hazards; I cannot retreat <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: Missing quote added to the original text">now."</ins></p> + +<p><!-- Page 299 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span></p><p>"But is it so very terrible?" she said, hurriedly. "Dearest, I will +come over to you in America. I have told my mother; she will take me to +you—"</p> + +<p>"I am not going to America, Natalie."</p> + +<p>She looked up bewildered.</p> + +<p>"I have been commissioned to perform another duty, more immediate, more +definite. And I must tell you now, Natalie, all that I dare tell you: +you must be prepared; it is a duty which will cost me my life!"</p> + +<p>"Your life?" she repeated, in a bewildered, wild way, and she hastily +drew her hand away from his. "Your life?"</p> + +<p>"Hush, Natalie!"</p> + +<p>"You are to die!" she exclaimed, and she gazed with terror-stricken eyes +into his face. She forgot all about his allegiance to the Society; she +forgot all about her theories of self-sacrifice; she only heard that the +man she loved was doomed, and she said, in a low, hoarse voice, "And it +is I, then, who have murdered you!"</p> + +<p>"Natalie!" he cried, and he would have taken her hand again, but she +withdrew from him, shuddering. She clasped her hands over her face.</p> + +<p>"Oh, do not touch me," she said, "do not come near me. I have murdered +you: it is I who have murdered you!"</p> + +<p>"For Heaven's sake, Natalie, be calm!" he said to her, in a low, earnest +voice. "Think of your mother: do not alarm her. You knew we might be +parted for years—well, this parting is a little worse to bear, that is +all—and you, who gave me this ring, you are not going to say a word of +regret. No, no, Natalushka, many thousands and thousands of people in +the world have gone through what stands before us now, and wives have +parted from their husbands without a single tear, so proud were they."</p> + +<p>She looked up quickly; her face was white.</p> + +<p>"I have no tears," she said, "none! But some wives have gone with their +husbands into the danger, and have died too—ah, how happy that were for +any one!—and I, why may not I go? I am not afraid to die."</p> + +<p>He laid his hand gently on the dark hair.</p> + +<p>"My child, it is impossible," he said; and then he added, rather sadly, +"It is not an enterprise that any one is likely to gain any honor by—it +is far from that; but it has to be undertaken—that is enough. As for +you—you have your mother to care for now; will not that fill your life +with gladness?"</p> + +<p>"How soon—do—you go away?" she asked, in a low voice.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 300 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span></p><p>"Almost immediately," he said, watching her. She had not shed a single +tear, but there was a strange look on her face. "Nothing is to be said +about it. I shall be supposed to have started on a +travelling-expedition, that is all."</p> + +<p>"And you go—forever?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>She rose.</p> + +<p>"We shall see you yet before you go?"</p> + +<p>"Natalie," he said, in despair, "I had come to try to say good-bye to +you; but I cannot, my darling, I cannot! I must see you again."</p> + +<p>"I do not understand why you should wish to see again one like me," she +said, slowly, and the voice did not sound like her own voice. "I have +given you over to death: and, more than that, to a death that is not +honorable; and, yet I cannot even tell you that I am grieved. But there +is pain here." She put her hand over her heart; she staggered back a +little bit; he caught her.</p> + +<p>"Natalie—Natalie!"</p> + +<p>"It is a pain that kills," she said, wildly.</p> + +<p>"Natalie, where is your courage? I give my life without question; you +must bear your part too."</p> + +<p>She still held her hand over her bosom.</p> + +<p>"Yet," she said, as if she had not heard him, "that is what they say; it +kills, this pain in the heart. Why not—if one does not wish to live?"</p> + +<p>At this moment the door was opened, and the mother came into the room.</p> + +<p>"Madame," said Brand, quickly, "come and speak to your daughter. I have +had to tell her something that has upset her, perhaps, for a moment; but +you will console her; she is brave."</p> + +<p>"Child, how you tremble, and how cold your hands are!" the mother cried.</p> + +<p>"It does not matter, mother. From every pain there is a release, is +there not?"</p> + +<p>"I do not understand you, Natalushka?"</p> + +<p>"And I—and I, mother—"</p> + +<p>She was on the point of breaking down, but she held firm. Then she +released herself from her mother's hold, and went forward and took her +lover's hand, and regarded him with the sad, fearless, beautiful eyes.</p> + +<p>"I have been selfish," she said; "I have been thinking of myself, when +that is needless. For me there will be a re<!-- Page 301 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span>lease—quickly enough: I +shall pray for it. Now tell me what I must do: I will obey you."</p> + +<p>"First, then," said he, speaking in a low voice, and in English, so that +her mother should not understand, "you must make light of this affair, +or you will distress your mother greatly, and she is not able to bear +distress. Some day, if you think it right, you may tell her; you know +nothing that could put the enterprise in peril; she will be as discreet +and silent as yourself, Natalie. Then you must put it out of your mind, +my darling, that you have any share in what has occurred. What have I to +regret? My life was worthless to me; you made it beautiful for a time; +perhaps, who knows, it may after all turn out to have been of some +service, and then there can be no regret at all. They think so, and it +is not for me to question."</p> + +<p>"May I not tell my mother now?" she said, imploringly. "Dearest, how can +I speak to her, and be thinking of you far away?"</p> + +<p>"As you please, Natalie. The little I have told you or Evelyn can do no +harm, so long as you keep it among yourselves."</p> + +<p>"But I shall see again?" It was her heart that cried to him.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: Extra "'" deleted from the original text"> +Natalie,"</ins> he said, gravely. "I may not +have to leave England for a week or two. I will see you as often as I +can until I go, my darling, though it may only be torture to you."</p> + +<p>"Torture?" she said, sadly. "That will come after—until there is an end +of the pain."</p> + +<p>"Hush, you must not talk like that. You have now one with you whom it is +your duty to support and console. She has not had a very happy life +either, Natalie."</p> + +<p>He was glad now that he was able to leave this terror-stricken girl in +such tender hands. And as for himself, he found, when he had left, that +somehow the strengthening of another had strengthened himself. He had +less dread of the future; his face was firm; the time for vain regrets +was over.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><!-- Page 302 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIII" id="CHAPTER_XLIII"></a>CHAPTER XLIII.</h2> + +<h3>A QUARREL.</h3> + + +<p>Meanwhile, almost immediately after George Brand had left the house in +Lisle Street, Reitzei and Beratinsky left also. On shutting the +street-door behind them, Beratinsky bade a curt good-night to his +companion, and turned to go; but Reitzei, who seemed to be in very high +spirits, stayed him.</p> + +<p>"No, no, friend Beratinsky; after such a fine night's work I say we must +have a glass of wine together. We will walk up to the Culturverein."</p> + +<p>"It is late," said the other, somewhat ungraciously.</p> + +<p>"Never mind. An hour, three-quarters of an hour, half an hour, what +matter? Come," said he, laying hold of his arm and taking him away +unwillingly, "it is not polite of you to force me to invite myself. I do +not suppose it is the cost of the wine you are thinking of. Mark my +words: when I am elected a member, I shall not be stingy."</p> + +<p>Beratinsky suffered himself to be led away, and together the two walked +up toward Oxford Street. Beratinsky was silent, and even surly: Reitzei +garrulous and self-satisfied.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I repeat it; a good night's work. For the thing had to be done; +there were the Council's orders; and who so appropriate as the +Englishman? Had it been you or I, Beratinsky, or Lind, how could any one +of us have been spared? No doubt the Englishman would have been glad to +have Lind's place, and Lind's daughter, too: however, that is all +settled now, and very well done. I say it was very well done on the part +of Lind. And what did you think of my part, friend Beratinsky?"</p> + +<p>"I think you made a fool of yourself, friend Reitzei," said the other, +abruptly.</p> + +<p>Reitzei was a vain young man, and he had been fishing for praise.</p> + +<p>"I don't know what you mean," he said, angrily.</p> + +<p>"What I mean I say," replied the other, with something very like cool +contempt. "I say you made a fool of yourself. When a man is drunk, he +does his best to appear sober; you, being sober, tried to appear drunk, +and made a fool of yourself."</p> + +<p>"My friend Beratinsky," said the younger man, hotly, "you have a right +to your own opinion—every man has that; but <!-- Page 303 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span>you should take care not +to make an ass of yourself by expressing it. Do not speak of things you +know nothing about—that is my advice to you."</p> + +<p>Beratinsky did not answer; and the two walked on in silence until they +reached the <i>Verein</i>, and entered the long, resounding hall, which was +nearly empty. But the few members who remained were making up for their +paucity of numbers by their mirth and noise. As Beratinsky and his +companion took their seats at the upper end of the table the chairman +struck his hammer violently, and commanded silence.</p> + +<p>"Silentium, meine Herren!" he thundered out. "I have a secret to +communicate. A great honor has been done one of our members, and even +his overwhelming modesty permits it to be known at last. Our good friend +Josef Hempel has been appointed Hof-maler to the Grand-duke of ——. I +call in you to drink his health and the Grand-duke's too!"</p> + +<p>Then there was a quick filling of glasses; a general uprising; cries of +"Hempel! Hempel!" "The Duke!" followed by a resounding chorus—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0" style="margin-left: -.5em">"Hoch sollen sie leben!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Hoch sollen sie leben!<br /></span> +<span class="i7">Dreimal hoch!"—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>that echoed away down the empty hall. Then the tumult subsided; and the +president, rising, said gravely,</p> + +<p>"I now call on our good friend Hempel to reply to the toast, and to give +us a few remarks on the condition of art in the Grand Duchy of ——, +with some observations and reflections on the altered position of the +Duchy since the unification of our Fatherland."</p> + +<p>In answer to this summons there rose to his feet a short old gentleman, +with a remarkably fresh complexion, silvery-white hair, and merry blue +eyes that peered through gold-rimmed spectacles. He was all smiles and +blushes; and the longer they cheered the more did he smile and blush.</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen," he said; and this was the signal for further cheering; +"Gentlemen," said the blushing orator, at length, "our friend is at his +old tricks. I cannot make a speech to you—except this: I ask you to +drink a glass of champagne with me. Kellner—Champagner!"</p> + +<p>And he incontinently dropped into his seat again, having forgotten +altogether to acknowledge the compliment paid to himself and the +Grand-duke.</p> + +<p>However, this was like the letting in of water; for no <!-- Page 304 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span>sooner had the +two or three bottles ordered by Herr Hempel been exhausted than one +after another of his companions seemed to consider it was their turn +now, and loud-shouted orders were continually being administered to the +busy waiter. Wine flowed and sparkled; cigars were freely exchanged; the +volume of conversation rose in tone, for all were speaking at once; the +din became fast and furious.</p> + +<p>In the midst of all this Reitzei alone sat apart and silent. Ever since +coming into the room the attention of Beratinsky had been monopolized by +his neighbor, who had just come back from a great artistic <i>fête</i> in +some German town, and who, dressed as the Emperor Barbarossa, and +followed by his knights, had ridden up the big staircase into the +Town-hall. The festivities had lasted for a fortnight; the +Staatsweinkeller had furnished liberal supplies; the Princess Adelheid +had been present at the crowning ceremony. Then he had brought with him +sketches of the various costumes, and so forth. Perhaps it was +inadvertently that Beratinsky so grossly neglected his guest.</p> + +<p>The susceptible vanity of Reitzei had been deeply wounded before he +entered, but now the cup of his wrath was filled to overflowing. The +more champagne he drank—and there was plenty coming and going—the more +sullen he became. For the rest, he had forgotten the circumstance that +he had already drunk two glasses of brandy before his arrival, and that +he had eaten nothing since mid-day.</p> + +<p>At length Beratinsky turned to him.</p> + +<p>"Will you have a cigar, Reitzei?"</p> + +<p>Reitzei's first impulse was to refuse to speak; but his wrongs forced +him. He said, coldly,</p> + +<p>"No, thanks; I have already been offered a cigar by the gentleman next +me. Perhaps you will kindly tell me how one, being sober, had any need +to pretend to be sober?"</p> + +<p>Beratinsky stared at him.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you are thinking about that yet, are you?" he said, indifferently; +and at this moment, as his neighbor called his attention to some further +sketches, he again turned away.</p> + +<p>But now the souls of the sons of the Fatherland, warmed with wine, began +to think of home and love and patriotism, and longed for some more +melodious utterances than this continuous guttural clatter. Silence was +commanded. A handsome young fellow, slim and dark, clearly a Jew, +ascended the platform, and sat down at the piano; the bashful Hempel, +still blushing and laughing, was induced to follow; together they sung, +amidst comparative silence, a duet of Mendels<!-- Page 305 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span>sohn's, set for tenor and +barytone, and sung it very well indeed. There was great applause, but +Hempel insisted on retiring. Left to himself, the young man with the +handsome profile and the finely-set head played a few bars of prelude, +and then, in a remarkably clear and resonant voice, sung Braga's +mystical and tender serenade, the "<i>Legende Valaque</i>," amidst a silence +now quite secured. But what was this one voice or that to all the +passion of music demanding utterance? Soon there was a call to the young +gentleman to play an accompaniment; and a huge black-a-vised Hessian, +still sitting at the table, held up his brimming glass, and began, in a +voice like a hundred kettle-drums,</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Ich nehm' mein Glaschen in die Hand:"</p></div> + +<p>then came the universal shout of the chorus, ringing to the roof,</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Vive la Compagneia!"</p></div> + +<p>Again the raucous voice bawled aloud,</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Und fahr' damit in's Unterland:"</p></div> + +<p>and again the thunder of the chorus, this time prolonged, with much +beating of time on the table, and jangling of wine-glasses,</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Vive la Compagneia! Vive la, vive la, vive la, va! vive la, vive +la, hopsasa! Vive la Compagneia!"</p></div> + +<p>And so on to the end, the chorus becoming stormier and more thunderous +than ever; then, when peace had been restored, there was a general +rising, though here and there a final glass was drunk with "stosst an! +setzt an! fertig! los!" and its attendant ceremonies. The meeting had +broken up by common consent; there was a shuffling of footsteps, and +some disjointed talking and calling down the empty hall, were the lights +were already being put out.</p> + +<p>Reitzei had set silent during all this chorus-singing, though +ordinarily, being an excitable person, and indeed rather proud of his +voice, he was ready to roar with any one; and in silence, too, he walked +away with Beratinsky, who either was or appeared to be quite unconscious +of his companion's state of mind. At length Reitzei stopped +short—Oxford Street at this time of the morning was perfectly +silent—and said,</p> + +<p>"Beratinsky, I have a word to say to you."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 306 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span></p><p>"Very well," said the other, though he seemed surprised.</p> + +<p>"I may tell you your manners are none of the best."</p> + +<p>Beratinsky looked at him.</p> + +<p>"Nor your temper," said he, "one would think. Do you still go back to +what I said about your piece of acting? You are a child, Reitzei."</p> + +<p>"I do not care about that," said Reitzei, contemptuously, though he was +not speaking the truth: his self-satisfaction had been grievously hurt. +"You put too great a value on your opinion, Beratinsky; it is not +everything that you know about: we will let that pass. But when one goes +into a society as a guest, one expects to be treated as a guest. No +matter; I was among my own countrymen: I was well enough entertained."</p> + +<p>"It appears so," said Beratinsky, with a sneer: "I should say too well. +My dear friend Reitzei, I am afraid you have been having a little too +much champagne."</p> + +<p>"It was none that you paid for, at all events," was the quick retort. +"No matter; I was among my own countrymen: they are civil; they are not +niggardly."</p> + +<p>"They can afford to spend," said the other, laughing sardonically, "out +of the plunder they take from others."</p> + +<p>"They have fought for what they have," the other said, hotly. "Your +countrymen—what have they ever done? Have they fought? No; they have +conspired, and then run away."</p> + +<p>But Beratinsky was much too cool-blooded a man to get into a quarrel of +this kind; besides, he noticed that Reitzei's speech was occasionally a +little thick.</p> + +<p>"I would advise you to go home and get to bed, friend Reitzei," said he.</p> + +<p>"Not until I have said something to you, Mr. Beratinsky," said the other +with mock politeness. "I have this to say, that your ways of late have +been a little too uncivil; you have been just rather too insolent, my +good friend. Now I tell you frankly it does not do for one in your +position to be uncivil and to make enemies."</p> + +<p>"For one in my position!" Beratinsky repeated, in a tone of raillery.</p> + +<p>"You think it is a joke, then, what happened to-night?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, that is what you mean; but if that is my position, what other is +yours, friend Reitzei?"</p> + +<p>"You pretend not to know. I will tell you: that was got up between you +and Lind; I had nothing to do with it."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 307 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span></p><p>"Ho! ho!"</p> + +<p>"You may laugh; but take care you do not laugh the other way," said the +younger man, who had worked himself into a fury, and was all the madder +on account of the cynical indifference of his antagonist. "I tell you I +had nothing to do with it; it was your scheme and Lind's; I did as I was +bid. I tell you I could make this very plain if—"</p> + +<p>He hesitated.</p> + +<p>"Well—if what?" Beratinsky said, calmly.</p> + +<p>"You know very well. I say you are not in a position to insult people +and make enemies. You are a very clever man in your own estimation, my +friend Beratinsky; but I would give you the advice to be a little more +civil."</p> + +<p>Beratinsky regarded him for a second in silence.</p> + +<p>"I scarcely know whether it is worth while to point out certain things +to you, friend Reitzei, or whether to leave you to go home and sleep off +your anger."</p> + +<p>"My anger, as you call it, is not a thing of the moment. Oh, I assure +you it has nothing to do with the champagne I have just drunk, and which +was not paid for by you, thank God! No; my anger—my wish to have you +alter your manner a little—has been growing for some time; but it is of +late, my dear Beratinsky, that you have become more unbearable than +ever."</p> + +<p>"Don't make a fool of yourself, Reitzei; I at least am not going to +stand in the streets talking nonsense at two in the morning. +Good-night!"</p> + +<p>He stepped from the pavement on to the street, to cross.</p> + +<p>"Stop!" said Reitzei, seizing his arm with both hands.</p> + +<p>Beratinsky shook him off violently, and turned. There might have been a +blow; but Reitzei, who was a coward, shrunk back.</p> + +<p>Beratinsky advanced.</p> + +<p>"Look here, Reitzei," he said, in a low voice, "I think you are sober +enough to understand this. You were throwing out vague threats about +what you might do or might not do; that means that you think you could +go and tell something about the proceedings of to-night: you are a +fool!"</p> + +<p>"Very well—very well."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you do not remember, for example, Clause I., the very first +clause in the Obligations binding on Officers of the Second Degree; you +do not remember that, perhaps?" He was now talking in a quietly +contemptuous way; the little spasm of anger that had disturbed him when +Reitzei put his hands on his arm had immediately passed away. "The +<!-- Page 308 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span>punishment for any one revealing, for any reason or purpose whatever, +what has been done, or is about to be done by orders of the Council, or +by any one acting under these orders—you remember the rest, my +friend?—the punishment is death! My good Reitzei, do not deprive me of +the pleasure of your companionship; and do not imagine that you can +force people to be polite to you by threats; that is not the way at all. +Go home and sleep away your anger; and do not imagine that you have any +advantage in your position, or that you are less responsible for what +has been done than any one."</p> + +<p>"I am not so sure about that," said Reitzei, sullenly.</p> + +<p>"In the morning you will be sure," said the other, compassionately, as +if he were talking to a child.</p> + +<p>He held out his hand.</p> + +<p>"Come, friend Reitzei," said he, with a sort of pitying kindness, "you +will find in the morning it will be all right. What happened to-night +was well arranged, and well executed; everybody must be satisfied. And +if you were a little too exuberant in your protestations, a little too +anxious to accept the work yourself, and rather too demonstrative with +your tremblings and your professions of courage and your clutching at +the bottle: what then? Every one is not a born actor. Every one must +make a mistake sometimes. But you won't take my hand?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Beratinsky," said the other, with profound sarcasm, "how could +you expect it? Take the hand of one so wise as you, so great as you, +such a logician as you are? It would be too much honor; but if you will +allow me I will bid you good-night."</p> + +<p>He turned abruptly and left. Beratinsky stood for a moment or so looking +after him; then he burst into a fit of laughter that sounded along the +empty street. Reitzei heard the laughing behind him.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIV" id="CHAPTER_XLIV"></a>CHAPTER XLIV.</h2> + +<h3>TWICE-TOLD TALE.</h3> + + +<p>When the door had closed on George Brand, Natalie stood for a second or +two uncertain, to collect her bewildered thoughts. She heard his +footsteps growing fainter and fainter: the world seemed to sway around +her; life itself to <!-- Page 309 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span>be slipping away. Then suddenly she turned, and +seized her mother by both her hands.</p> + +<p>"Child, child, what is the matter?" the mother cried, terrified by the +piteous eyes and white lips.</p> + +<p>"Ah, you could not have guessed," the girl said, wildly, "you could not +have guessed from his manner what he has told me, could you? He is not +one to say much; he is not one to complain. But he is about to lose his +life, mother—to lose his life! and it is I who have led him to this; it +is I who have killed him!"</p> + +<p>"Natalie," the mother exclaimed, turning rather pale, "you don't know +what you are saying."</p> + +<p>"But it is true; do not you understand, mother?" the girl said, +despairingly. "The Society has given him some duty to do—now, at +once—and it will cost him his life. Oh, do you think he complains?—no, +he is not one to complain. He says it is nothing; he has pledged +himself; he will obey; and what is the value of his one single life? +That is the way he talks, mother. And the parting between him and +me—that is so near, so near now—what is that, when there are thousands +and thousands of such every time that war is declared? I am to make +light of it, mother; I am to think it is nothing at all—that he should +be going away to die!"</p> + +<p>She had been talking quite wildly, almost incoherently; she had not +observed that her mother had grown paler than ever; nor had she heard +the half-murmured exclamation of the elder woman,</p> + +<p>"No, no—not the story twice told; he could not do that!"</p> + +<p>Then, with an unusual firmness and decision, she led her daughter to the +easy-chair, and made her sit down.</p> + +<p>"Natalie," she said, in earnest and grave tones, without any excitement +whatever, "you have told me your father was very much against you +marrying Mr. Brand."</p> + +<p>There was no answer. The girl sitting there could only think of that +terrible thing facing her in the immediate future.</p> + +<p>"Natalie," said her mother, firmly, "I wish you to listen. You said your +father was opposed to your marriage—that he would not hear of it; and +you remember telling me how Mr. Brand had refused to hand over his +property to the Society; and you talked of going to America if Mr. Brand +were sent? Natalie, this is your father's doing!"</p> + +<p>She looked up quickly, not understanding. The elder woman flushed +slightly, but continued in clear and even tones.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I am wrong, Natalushka; perhaps I should not <!-- Page 310 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span>teach you to +suspect your father. But that is how I see it—this is what I +believe—that Mr. Brand, if what you say is true, is to be sacrificed, +not in the interests of the Society, but because your father is +determined to get him out of the way."</p> + +<p>"Oh, mother, it is impossible! How could any one be so cruel?"</p> + +<p>"It would be strange if the story were to be twice told," the mother +said, absently. Then she took a stool beside her daughter, and sat down +beside her, and took one of her hands in both hers. It was a reversal of +their ordinary position.</p> + +<p>"Listen, Natalie; I am going to tell you a story," she said, with a +curious resignation and sadness in her voice. "I had thought it might be +unnecessary to tell it to you; when Mr. Brand spoke of it, I said no. +But you will judge for yourself, and it will distract your mind for a +little. You must think of a young girl something like yourself, +Natalushka; not so handsome as you are, but a little pretty, and with +many friends. Oh yes, many friends, for at that time the family were in +very brilliant society and had large estates: alas! the estates were +soon all lost in politics, and all that remained to the family was their +name and some tales of what they had done. Well, this young lady, among +all her friends, had one or two sweethearts, as was natural—for there +were a great coming and going then, before the troubles broke out, and +many visitors at the house—only every one thought she ought to marry +her cousin Konrad, for they had been brought up together, and this +cousin Konrad was a good-looking young man, and amiable, and her parents +would have approved. Are you sure you are listening to my story, +Natalushka?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, mother," she said, in a low voice; "I think I understand."</p> + +<p>"Well," continued the mother, with rather a sad smile, "you know a girl +does not always choose the one whom her friends choose for her. Among +the two or three sweethearts—that is, those who wished to be +sweethearts, do you understand, Natalushka?—there was one who was more +audacious, perhaps, more persistent than the others; and then he was a +man of great ambition, and of strong political views; and the young lady +I was telling you about, Natalushka, had been brought up to the +political atmosphere, and had opinions also. She believed this man was +capable of doing great things; and her friends not objecting, she, after +a few years <!-- Page 311 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span>of waiting, owing to the troubles of political matters, +married him."</p> + +<p>She was silent for a moment or two.</p> + +<p>"Yes, they were married," she continued, with a sigh, "and for a time +every thing was happy, though the political affairs were so untoward, +and cost much suffering and danger. The young wife only admired her +husband's determined will, his audacity, his ambition after leadership +and power. But in the midst of all this, as time went on, he began to +grow jealous of the cousin Konrad; and Konrad, though he was a +light-hearted young fellow, and meaning no harm whatever, resented being +forbidden to see his cousin. He refused to cease visiting the house, +though the young wife begged him to do so. He was very proud and +self-willed, you must know, Natalushka. Well, the husband did not say +much, but he was morose, and once or twice he said to his wife, 'It is +not your fault that your cousin is impertinent; but let him take care.' +Then one day an old friend of his wife's father came to her, and said, +'Do you know what has happened? You are not likely to see your cousin +Konrad again. The Russian General ——, whom we bribed with twenty-four +thousand rubles to give us ten passports for crossing the frontier, now +refuses to give them, and Konrad has been sent to kill him, as a warning +to the others; he will be taken, and hanged.' I forgot to tell you, +Natalushka, that the girl I am speaking of was in all the secrets of the +association which had been started. You are more fortunate; you know +nothing."</p> + +<p>The interest of the listener had now been thoroughly aroused. She had +turned toward her mother, and had put her remaining hand over hers.</p> + +<p>"Well, this friend hinted something more; he hinted that it was the +husband of this young wife who had sent Konrad on this mission, and that +the means employed had not been quite fair."</p> + +<p>"Mother, what do you mean?" Natalie said, breathlessly.</p> + +<p>"I am telling you a story that really happened, Natalushka," said the +mother, calmly, and with the same pathetic touch in her voice. "Then the +young wife, without consideration—so anxious was she to save the life +of her cousin—went straight to the highest authorities of the +association, and appealed to them. The influence of her family aided +her. She was listened to; there was an examination; what the friend had +hinted was found to be true; the commission was annulled; Konrad was +given his liberty!"</p> + +<p><!-- Page 312 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span></p><p>"Yes, yes!" said Natalie, eagerly.</p> + +<p>"But listen, Natalushka; I said I would tell you the whole story; it has +been kept from you for many a year. When it was found that the husband +had made use of the machinery of the association for his own +ends—which, it appears, was a great crime in their eyes—he was +degraded, and forbidden all hope of joining the Council, the ruling +body. He was in a terrible rage, for he was mad with ambition. He drove +the wife from his house—rather, he left the house himself—and he took +away with him their only child, a little girl scarcely two years old; +and he threatened the mother with the most terrible penalties if ever +again she should speak to her own child! Natalushka, do you understand +me? Do you wonder that my face is worn with grief? For sixteen years +that mother, who loved her daughter better than anything in the world, +was not permitted to speak to her, could only regard her from a +distance, and not tell her how she loved her."</p> + +<p>The girl uttered a cry of compassion, and wound her arms round her +mother's neck.</p> + +<p>"Oh, the cruelty of it!—the cruelty of it, mother! But why did you not +come to me? Do you think I would not have left everything to go with +you—you, alone and suffering?"</p> + +<p>For a time the mother could not answer, so deep were her sobs.</p> + +<p>"Natalushka," she said at length, in a broken voice, "no fear of any +danger threatening myself would have kept me from you; be sure of that. +But there was something else. My father had become compromised—the +Austrians said it was assassination; it was not!" For a second some hot +blood mounted to her cheeks. "I say it was a fair duel, and your +grandfather himself was nearly killed; but he escaped, and got into +hiding among some faithful friends—poor people, who had known our +family in better times. The Government did what they could to arrest +him; he was expressly exempted from the amnesty, this old man, who was +wounded, who was incapable of movement almost, whom every one expected +to die from day to day, and a word would have betrayed him and destroyed +him. Can you wonder, Natalushka, with that threat hanging over me—that +<ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: "menance" in the original text"> +menace</ins> that the moment I spoke to you meant that +my father would be delivered to his enemies—that I said 'No, not yet +will I speak to my little daughter; I cannot sacrifice my father's life +even to the affection of a mother! But soon, when I <!-- Page 313 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span>have given him such +care and solace as he has the right to demand from me, then I will set +out to see my beautiful child—not with baskets of flowers, haunting the +door-steps—not with a little trinket, to drop in her lap, and perhaps +set her mind thinking—no, but with open arms and open heart, to see if +she is not afraid to call me mother.'"</p> + +<p>"Poor mother, how you must have suffered," the girl murmured, holding +her close to her bosom. "But with your powerful friends—those to whom +you appealed to before—why did you not go to them, and get safety from +the terrible threat hanging over you? Could they not protect him, my +grandfather, as they saved your cousin Konrad?"</p> + +<p>"Alas, child, your grandfather never belonged to the association! Of +what use was he to them—a sufferer expecting each day to be his last, +and not daring to move beyond the door of the peasant's cottage that +sheltered him? many a time he used to say to me, 'Natalie, go to your +child. I am already dead; what matters it whether they take me or not? +You have watched the old tree fade leaf by leaf; it is only the stump +that cumbers the ground. Go to your child; if they try to drag me from +here, the first mile will be the end; and what better can one wish for?' +But no; I could not do that."</p> + +<p>Natalie had been thinking deeply; she raised her head, and regarded her +mother with a calm, strange look.</p> + +<p>"Mother," she said, slowly, "I do not think I will ever enter my +father's house again."</p> + +<p>The elder woman heard this declaration without either surprise or joy. +She said, simply,</p> + +<p>"Do not judge rashly or harshly, Natalushka. Why have I refrained until +now from telling you the story but that I thought it better—I thought +you would be happier if you continued to respect and love your father. +Then consider what excuses may be made for him—"</p> + +<p>"None!" the girl said, vehemently. "To keep you suffering for sixteen +years away from your only child, and with the knowledge that at any +moment a word on his part might lead out your father to a cruel +death—oh, mother mother, you may ask me to forgive, but not to excuse!"</p> + +<p>"Ambition—the desire for influence and leadership—is his very life," +the mother said, calmly. "He cares more for that than anything in the +world—wife, child, anything, he would sacrifice to it. But now, child," +she said, with a concerned look, "can you understand why I have told you +the story?"</p> + +<p>Natalie looked up bewildered. For a time the interest of <!-- Page 314 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span>this story, +intense as it had been to her, had distracted her mind from her own +troubles; though all through she been conscious of some impending gloom +that seemed to darken the life around her.</p> + +<p>"It was not merely to tell you of my sufferings, Natalushka," the mother +said at once, gently and anxiously; "they are over. I am happy to be +beside you; if you are happy. But when a little time ago you told me of +Mr. Brand being ordered away to this duty, and of the fate likely to +befall him, I said to myself, 'Ah, no; surely it cannot be the story +told twice over. He would not dare to do that again.'"</p> + +<p>The girl turned deadly pale.</p> + +<p>"My child, that is why I asked you. Mr. Brand disappointed your father, +I can see, about the money affair. Then, when he might have been got out +of the way by being sent to America, you make matters worse than ever by +threatening to go with him."</p> + +<p>The girl did not speak, but her eyes were terrified.</p> + +<p>"Natalie," the mother said gently, "have I done wrong to put these +suspicions into your mind? Have I done wrong to put you into antagonism +with your father? My child I cannot see you suffer without revealing to +you what I imagine may be the cause—even if it were impossible to fight +against it—even if one can only shudder at the cruelty of which some +are capable: we can pray God to give us resignation."</p> + +<p>Natalie Lind was not listening at all; her face was white, her lips +firm, her eyes fixed.</p> + +<p>"Mother," she said at length, in a low voice, and speaking as if she +were weighing each word, "if you think the story is being told again, +why should it not be carried out? You appealed, to save the life of one +who loved you. And I—why may not I also?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, child, child!" the mother cried in terror, laying hold of her arm. +"Do not think of it: anything but that! You do not know how terrible +your father is when his anger is aroused: look at what I have suffered. +Natalushka, I will not have you lead the life that I have led; you must +not, you dare not, interfere!"</p> + +<p>The girl put her hand aside, and sprung to her feet. No longer was she +white of face. The blood of the Berezolyis was in her cheeks; her eyes +were dilated; her voice was proud and indignant.</p> + +<p>"And I," she said, "if this is true—if this is possible—Oh, do you +think I am going to see a brave man sent to his death, shamelessly, +cruelly, and not do what I can to save <!-- Page 315 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span>him? It is not for you, mother, +it is not for one who bears the name that you bear to tell me to be +afraid. What I did fear was to live, with him dead. Now—"</p> + +<p>The mother had risen quickly to her feet also, and sought to hold her +daughter's hands.</p> + +<p>"For the sake of Heaven, Natalushka!" she pleaded. "You are running into +a terrible danger—"</p> + +<p>"Do I care, mother? Do I look as if I cared?" she said, proudly.</p> + +<p>"And for no purpose, Natalushka; you will only bring down on yourself +the fury of your father, and he will make your life as miserable as he +has made mine. And what can you do, child? what can you do but bring +ruin on yourself? You are powerless: you have no influence with those in +authority as I at one time had. You do not know them: how can you reach +them?"</p> + +<p>"You forget, mother," the girl said, triumphantly; "was it not you +yourself who asked me if I had ever heard of one Bartolotti?"</p> + +<p>The mother uttered a slight cry of alarm.</p> + +<p>"No, no, Natalushka, I beg of you—"</p> + +<p>The girl took her mother in her arms and kissed her. There was a strange +joy in her face; the eyes were no longer haggard, but full of light and +hope.</p> + +<p>"You dear mother," she said, as she gently compelled her to be seated +again, "that is the place for you. You will remain here, quiet, +undisturbed by any fears; no one shall molest you; and when you have +quite recovered from all your sufferings, and when your courage has +returned to you, then I will come back and tell you my story. It is +story for story, is it not?"'</p> + +<p>She rung the bell.</p> + +<p>"Pardon me, dear mother; there is no time to be lost. For once I return +to my father's house—yes, there is a card there that I must have—"</p> + +<p>"But afterward, child, where do you go?" the mother said, though she +could scarcely find utterance.</p> + +<p>"Why, to Naples, mother; I am an experienced traveller; I shall need no +courier."</p> + +<p>The blood had mounted into both cheek and forehead; her eyes were full +of life and pride; even at such a moment the anxious, frightened mother +was forced to think she had never seen her daughter look so beautiful.</p> + +<p>The door opened.</p> + +<p>"Madame, be so good as to tell Anneli that I am ready."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 316 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span></p><p>She turned to her mother.</p> + +<p>"Now, mother, it is good-bye for I do not know how long."</p> + +<p>"Oh no, it is not, child," said the other, trembling, and yet smiling in +spite of all her fears. "If you are going to travel, you must have a +courier. I will be your courier, Natalushka."</p> + +<p>"Will you come with me, mother?" she cried, with a happy light leaping +to her eyes. "Come, then—we will give courage to each other, you and I, +shall we not? Ah, dear mother, you have told me your story only in time; +but we will go quickly now—you and I together!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLV" id="CHAPTER_XLV"></a>CHAPTER XLV.</h2> + +<h3>SOUTHWARD.</h3> + + +<p>After so much violent emotion the rapid and eager preparations for +travel proved a useful distraction. There was no time to lose; and +Natalie very speedily found that it was she herself who must undertake +the duties of a courier, her mother being far too anxious and alarmed. +Once or twice, indeed, the girl, regarding the worn, sad face, almost +repented of having accepted that impulsive offer, and would have +proposed to start alone. But she knew that, left in solitude, the poor +distressed mother would only torture herself with imaginary fears. As +for herself, she had no fear; her heart was too full to have any room +for fear. And yet her hand trembled a little as she sat down to write +these two messages of farewell. The first ran thus:</p> + +<p>"My Father,—To-day, for the first time, I have heard my mother's story +from herself. I have looked into her eyes; I know she speaks the truth. +You will not wonder then that I leave your house—that I go with her; +there must be some one to try to console her for all she has suffered, +and I am her daughter. I thank you for many years of kindness, and pray +God to bless you.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Natalie."</span><br /> +</p> + + +<p>The next was easier to write.</p> + +<p>"Dearest,—My mother and I leave England to-night. Do not ask why we go, +or why I have not sent for you to come and say good-bye. We shall be +away perhaps only a <!-- Page 317 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span>few days; in any case you must not go until we +return. Do not forget that I must see you again."</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Natalie."</span><br /> +</p> + + +<p>She felt happier when she had written these two notes. She rose from the +table and went over to her mother.</p> + +<p>"Now, mother, tell me how much money you have," she said, with a highly +practical air. "What, have I startled you, poor little mother? I believe +your head is full of all kinds of strange forebodings; and yet they used +to say that the Berezolyis were all of them very courageous."</p> + +<p>"Natalushka, you do not know what danger you are rushing into," the +mother said, absently.</p> + +<p>"I again ask you, mother, a simple question: how much money have you?"</p> + +<p>"I? I have thirty pounds or thereabout, Natalie; that is my capital, as +it were; but next month my cousins will send me—"</p> + +<p>"Never mind about next month, mother dear. You must let me rob you of +all your thirty pounds; and, just to make sure, I will go and borrow ten +pounds more from Madame Potecki. Madame is not so very poor; she has +savings; she would give me every farthing if I asked her. And do you +think, little mother, if we come back successful—do you think there +will be a great difficulty about paying back the loan to Madame +Potecki?"</p> + +<p>She was quite gay, to give her mother courage; and she refused to leave +her alone, a prey to these gloomy forebodings. She carried her off with +her in the cab to Curzon Street, and left her in the cab while she +entered the house with Anneli. Anneli cried a little when she was +receiving her mistress's last instructions.</p> + +<p>"Am I never to see you again, Fraulein?" she sobbed. "Are you never +coming back to the house any more?"</p> + +<p>"Of course you will see me again, you foolish girl, even if I do not +come back here. Now you will be careful, Anneli, to have the wine a +little warmed before dinner, and see that your master's slippers are in +the study by the fire; and the coffee—you must make the coffee +yourself, Anneli—"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, indeed, Fraulein, I will make the coffee," said Anneli, with a +fresh flowing of tears. "But—but may not I go with you, Fraulein?—if +you are not coming back here any more, why may I not go with you? I am +not anxious for wages, Fraulein—I do not want any wages at all; but if +you will take me with you—"</p> + +<p>"Now, do not be foolish, Anneli. Have you not a whole <!-- Page 318 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span>house to look +after? There, take these keys; you will have to show that you can be a +good house-mistress, and sensible, and not childish."</p> + +<p>At the door she shook hands with the sobbing maid, and bade her a +cheerful good-bye. Then she got into the cab and drove away to Madame +Potecki's lodgings. Finally, by dexterous management, she succeeded in +getting her mother and herself to Charing Cross Station in time to catch +the afternoon express to Dover.</p> + +<p>It is probable that, now the first excitement of setting out was over, +and the two women-folk left to themselves in the solitude of a +compartment, Natalie might have begun to reflect with some tremor of the +heart on the very vagueness of the task she had undertaken. But she was +not permitted to do so. The necessity of driving away her mother's +forebodings prevented her indulging in any of her own. She was forced to +be careless, cheerful, matter-of-fact.</p> + +<p>"Natalushka," the mother said, holding her daughter's hand, "you have +been brought up in ignorance. You know only the romantic, the beautiful +side of what is going on; you do not know what these men are ready to +do—what has been done—to secure the success of their schemes. And for +you, a girl, to interfere, it is madness, Natalushka. They will laugh at +you, perhaps; perhaps it may be worse; they may resent your +interference, and ask who has betrayed their secrets."</p> + +<p>"Are they so very terrible, then?" said the girl, with a smile, "when +Lord Evelyn—ah, you do not know him yet, mother; but he is as gentle as +a woman—when he is their friend; and when Mr. Brand is full of +admiration for what they are doing; and when Calabressa—Now, mother, is +Calabressa likely to harm any one? And it was Calabressa himself who +said to me, 'Little daughter, if ever you are in great trouble, go to +Naples. You will find friends there.' No, mother, it is no use your +trying to frighten me. No; let us talk about something sensible; for +example, which way is the wind?"</p> + +<p>"How can I tell, Natalushka?"</p> + +<p>The girl laughed—rather a forced laugh, perhaps; she could not +altogether shake off the consciousness of the peril that surrounded her +lover.</p> + +<p>"Why, mother, you are a pretty courier! You are about to cross the +Channel, and you do not know which way the wind is, or whether the sea +is rough, or anything. Now I will tell you; it is I who am the courier. +The wind is north<!-- Page 319 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span>east; the sea was quite smooth yesterday evening; I +think we shall have a comfortable passage. And do you know why I have +brought you away by this train? Don't you know that I shall get you down +to Dover in time to give you something nice for dinner; then, if the sea +is quite smooth, we go on board before the people come; then we cross +over to Calais and go to a hotel there; then you get a good, long, sound +sleep, you little mother, and the next day—that is to-morrow—about +noon, I think, we go easily on to Paris. What do you think of that, +now?"</p> + +<p>"Whatever you do will be right, Natalushka; you know I have never before +had a daughter to look after me."</p> + +<p>Natalie's programme was fulfilled to the letter, and with good fortune. +They dined in the hotel, had some tea, and then went down through the +dark clear night to the packet. The sea was like a mill-pond; there was +just sufficient motion of the water to make the reflections of the stars +quiver in the dark. The two women sat together on deck; and as the +steamer gradually took them away from the lights of the English coast, +Natalie sung to her mother, in a low voice, some verses of an old Magyar +song, which were scarcely audible amidst the rush of water and the +throbbing of the paddles.</p> + +<p>Next day the long and tedious railway journey began; and here again +Natalie acted as the most indefatigable and accomplished of couriers.</p> + +<p>"How do you manage it, Natalushka?" said the mother, as she got into the +<i>coupe</i>, to this tall and handsome young lady who was standing outside, +and on whom everybody seemed to wait. "You get everything you want, and +without trouble."</p> + +<p>"It is only practice, with a little patience," she said, simply, as she +opened her flask of white-rose scent and handed it up to her mother.</p> + +<p>Necessarily, it was rail all the way for these two travellers. Not for +them the joyous assembling on the Mediterranean shore, where Nice lies +basking in the sun like a pink surf thrown up by the waves. Not for them +the packing of the great carriage, and the swinging away of the four +horses with their jingling bells, and the slow climbing of the Cornice, +the road twisting up the face of the gray mountains, through perpetual +lemon-groves, with far below the ribbed blue sea. Not for them the +leisurely trotting all day long through the luxuriant beauty of the +Riviera—the sun hot on the ruddy cliffs of granite, and on the terraces +of figs and vines and spreading <!-- Page 320 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span>palms; nor the rattling through the +narrow streets of the old walled towns, with the scarlet-capped men and +swarthy-visaged women shrinking into the door-ways as the horses clatter +by; nor the quiet evenings in the hotel garden, with the moon rising +over the murmuring sea, and the air sweet with the perfumes of the +south. No. They climbed a mountain, it is true, but it was behind an +engine; they beheld the Mont Cenis snows, but it was from the window of +a railway-carriage. Then they passed through the black, resounding +tunnel, with, after a time, its sudden glares of light; finally the +world seemed to open around them; they looked down upon Italy.</p> + +<p>"Many a one has died for you, and been glad," said the girl, almost to +herself, as she gazed abroad on the great valleys, with here and there a +peak crowned with a castle or a convent, with the vine-terraced hills +showing now and again a few white dots of houses, and beyond and above +all these the far blue mountains, with their sharp line of snow.</p> + +<p>Then they descended, and passed through the luxuriant yellow plains—the +sunset blazing on the rows of willows and on the square farm-houses with +their gaudy picture over the arched gateway; while always in the +background rose the dark masses of the mountains, solemn and distant, +beyond the golden glow of the fields. They reached Turin at dusk, both +of them very tired.</p> + +<p>So far scarcely anything had been said about the object of their +journey, though they could have talked in safety even in +railway-carriages, as they spoke to each other in Magyar. But Natalie +refused to listen to any dissuading counsel; when her mother began, she +would say, "Dear little mother, will you have some white rose for your +forehead and your fingers?"</p> + +<p>From Turin they had to start again early in the morning. They had by +this time grown quite accustomed to the plod, plodding of the train; it +seemed almost one of the normal and necessary conditions of life. They +went down by Genoa, Spezia, Pisa, Sienna, and Rome, making the shortest +possible pauses.</p> + +<p>One night the windows of a sitting-room in a hotel at the western end of +Naples were opened, and a young girl stepped out on to the high balcony, +a light shawl thrown over her head and shoulders. It was a beautiful +night; the air sweet and still; the moonlight shining over the scarcely +stirring waters of the bay. Before her rose the vast bulk of the +Castello dell' Ovo, a huge mass of black shadow against the silvery sea +and the lambent sky: then far away throbbed the <!-- Page 321 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span>dull orange lights of +the city; and beyond these, again, Vesuvius towered into the clear +darkness, with a line of sharp, intense crimson marking its summit. +Through the perfect silence she could hear the sound of the oars of a +boat, itself unseen; and over the whispering waters came some faint and +distant refrain, "<i>Addio! addio!</i>" At length even these sounds ceased, +and she was alone in the still, murmuring beautiful night.</p> + +<p>She looked across to the great city. Who were her unknown friends there? +What mighty power was she about to invoke on the morrow? There was no +need for her to consult the card that Calabressa had given her; again +and again, in the night-time, when her mother lay asleep, she had +studied it, and wondered whether it would prove the talisman the giver +had called it. She looked at this great city beside the sea, and only +knew that it was beautiful in the moonlight; she had no fear of anything +that it contained. And then she thought of another city, far away in the +colder north, and she wondered if a certain window were open there, +overlooking the river and the gas-lamp and the bridges, and whether +there was one there thinking of her. Could not the night-wind carry the +speech and desire of her heart?—"Good-night, good-night.... Love knows +no fear.... Not yet is our life forever broken for us."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLVI" id="CHAPTER_XLVI"></a>CHAPTER XLVI.</h2> + +<h3>THE BEECHES.</h3> + + +<p>On the same night Lord Evelyn was in Brand's rooms, arguing, +expostulating, entreating, all to no purpose. He was astounded at the +calmness with which this man appeared to accept the terrible task +imposed on him, and at the stoical indifference with which he looked +forward to the almost certain sacrifice of his own life.</p> + +<p>"You have become a fanatic of fanatics!" he exclaimed, indignantly.</p> + +<p>George Brand was staring out of the windows into the dark night, +somewhat absently.</p> + +<p>"I suppose," he answered, "all the great things that have been done in +the world have been founded in fanaticism. All that I can hope for now +is that this particular act of the Coun<!-- Page 322 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span>cil may have the good effect +they hope from it. They ought to know. They see the sort of people with +whom they have to deal. I should have thought, with Lind, that it was +unwise—that it would shock, or even terrify; but my opinion is neither +here nor there. Further talking is of no use, Evelyn; the thing is +settled; what I have to consider now, as regards myself, is how I can +best benefit a few people whom I am interested in, and you can help me +in that."</p> + +<p>"But I appeal to yourself—to your conscience!" Lord Evelyn cried, +almost in despair. "You cannot shift the responsibility to them. You are +answerable for your own actions. I say you are sacrificing your +conscience to your pride. You are saying to yourself, 'Do these +foreigners think that I am afraid?'"</p> + +<p>"I am not thinking of myself at all," said Brand, simply; "that is all +over. When I swore to give myself to this Society—to obey the commands +of the Council—then my responsibility ceased. What I have to do is to +be faithful to my oath, and to the promise I have made." Almost +unconsciously he glanced at the ring that Natalie had given him. "You +would not have me skulk back like a coward? You would not have me 'play +and not pay?' What I have undertaken to do I will do."</p> + +<p>Presently he added,</p> + +<p>"There is something you could do, Evelyn. Don't let us talk further of +myself: I said before, if a single man drops out of the ranks, what +matter?—the army marches on. And what has been concerning me of late is +the effect that this act of the Council may have on our thousands of +friends throughout this country. Now, Evelyn, when—when the affair +comes off, I think you would do a great deal of good by pointing out in +the papers what a scoundrel this man Zaccatelli was; how he had merited +his punishment, and how it might seem justifiable to the people over +there that one should take the law into one's own hands in such an +exceptional case. You might do that, Evelyn, for the sake of the +Society. The people over here don't know what a ruffian he is, and how +he is beyond the ordinary reach of the law, or how the poor people have +groaned under his iniquities. Don't seek to justify me; I shall be +beyond the reach of excuse or execration by that time; but you might +break the shock, don't you see?—you might explain a little—you +<ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: "mighf" in the original text"> +might</ins> intimate to our friends who have joined us here +that they had not joined any kind of Camorra association. That troubles +me more than anything. I confess to you that I have got quite reconciled +to the af<!-- Page 323 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span>fair, as far as any sacrifice on my own part is concerned. +That bitterness is over; I can even think of Natalie."</p> + +<p>The last words were spoken slowly, and in a low voice; his eyes were +fixed on the night-world outside. What could his friend say? They talked +late into the night; but all his remonstrances and prayers were of no +avail as against this clear resolve.</p> + +<p>"What is the use of discussion?" was the placid answer. "What would you +have me do?—break my oaths—put aside my sacred promise made to +Natalie, and give up the Society altogether? My good fellow, let us talk +of something less impossible."</p> + +<p>And indeed, though he deprecated discussion on this point, he was +anxious to talk. The fact was that of late he had come to fear sleep, as +the look of his eyes testified. In the daytime, or as long as he could +sit up with a companion, he could force himself to think only of the +immediate and practical demands of the hour; vain regrets over what +might have been—and even occasional uneasy searchings of conscience—he +could by an effort of will ignore. He had accepted his fate; he had +schooled himself to look forward to it without fear; henceforth there +was to be no indecision, no murmur of complaint. But in the +night-time—in dreams—the natural craving for life asserted itself; it +seemed so sad to bid good-bye forever to those whom he had known and +loved; and mostly always it was Natalie herself who stood there, +regarding him with streaming eyes, and wringing her hands, and sobbing +to him farewell. The morning light, or the first calls in the +thoroughfare below, or the shrieking of some railway-whistle on +Hungerford Bridge brought an inexpressible relief by banishing these +agonizing visions. No matter how soon Waters was astir, he found his +master up before him—dressed, and walking up and down the room, or +reading some evening newspaper of the previous day. Sometimes Brand +occupied himself in getting ready his own breakfast, but he had to +explain to Waters that this was not meant as a rebuke—it was merely +that, being awake early, he wished for some occupation.</p> + +<p>Early on the morning after this last despairing protest on the part of +Lord Evelyn, Brand drove up to Paddington Station, on his way to pay a +hurried visit to his Buckinghamshire home. Nearly all his affairs had +been settled in town; there remained some arrangements to be made in the +country. Lord Evelyn was to have joined him in this excursion, but at +the last moment had not put in an appearance; so Brand <!-- Page 324 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span>jumped in just +as the train was starting, and found himself alone in the carriage.</p> + +<p>The bundle of newspapers he had with him did not seem to interest him +much. He was more than ever puzzled to account for the continued silence +of Natalie. Each morning he had been confidently expecting to hear from +her—to have some explanation of her sudden departure—but as the days +went by, and no message of any sort arrived, his wonder became merged in +anxiety. It seemed so strange that she should thus absent herself, when +she had been counting on each day on which she might see him as if it +were some gracious gift from Heaven.</p> + +<p>All that he was certain of in the matter was that Lind knew no more than +himself as to where Natalie had gone. One afternoon, going out from his +rooms into Buckingham Street, he caught sight of Beratinsky loitering +about farther up the little thoroughfare, about the corner of John +Street. Beratinsky's back was turned to him, and so he took advantage of +the moment to open the gate, for which he had a private key, leading +down to the old York Gate; from thence he made his way round by Villiers +Street, whence he could get a better view of the little black-a-vised +Pole's proceedings.</p> + +<p>He speedily convinced himself that Beratinsky, though occasionally he +walked along in the direction of Adam Street, and though sometimes he +would leisurely stroll up to the Strand, was in reality keeping an eye +on Buckingham Street and he had not the least doubt that he himself was +the object of this surveillance. He laughed to himself. Had these wise +people in Lisle Street, then, discovering that Natalie's mother was in +London, arrived at the conclusion that she and her daughter had taken +refuge in so very open a place of shelter? When Beratinsky was least +expecting any such encounter, Brand went up and tapped him on the +shoulder.</p> + +<p>"How do you do, Mr. Beratinsky?" said he, when the other wheeled round. +"This is not the most agreeable place for a stroll. Why do you not go +down to the Embankment Gardens?"</p> + +<p>Beratinsky was angry and confused, but did not quite lose his +self-command.</p> + +<p>"I am waiting for some one," he said, curtly.</p> + +<p>"Or to find out about some one? Well, I will save you some trouble. Lind +wishes to know where his wife and daughter are, I imagine."</p> + +<p>"Is that unnatural?"</p> + +<p><!-- Page 325 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span></p><p>"I suppose not. I heard he had been down to Hans Place, where Madame +Lind was staying."</p> + +<p>"You knew, then?" the other said, quickly.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, I knew. Now, if you will be frank with me, I may be of some +assistance to you. Lind does not know where his wife and daughter are?"</p> + +<p>"You know he does not."</p> + +<p>"And you—perhaps you fancied that one or other might be sending a +message to me—might call, perhaps—or even that I might have got them +rooms for the time being?"</p> + +<p>The Englishman's penetrating gray eyes were difficult to avoid.</p> + +<p>"You appear to know a good deal, Mr. Brand," Beratinsky said, somewhat +sulkily. "Perhaps you can tell me where they are now?"</p> + +<p>"I can tell you where they are not, and that is in London."</p> + +<p>The other looked surprised, then suspicious.</p> + +<p>"Oh, believe me or not, as you please: I only wish to save you trouble. +I tell you that, to the best of my belief, Miss Lind and her mother are +not in London, nor in this country even."</p> + +<p>"How do you know?"</p> + +<p>"Pardon me; you are going too far. I only tell you what I believe. In +return, as I have saved you some trouble, I shall expect you to let me +know if you hear anything about them. Is that too much to ask?"</p> + +<p>"Then you really don't know where they are?" Beratinsky said, with a +quick glance.</p> + +<p>"I do not; but they have left London—that I know."</p> + +<p>"I am very much obliged to you," said the other, more humbly. "I wish +you good evening, Mr. Brand."</p> + +<p>"Stay a moment. Can you tell me what Yacov Kirski's address is? I have +something to arrange with him before I leave England."</p> + +<p>He took out his note-book, and put down the address that Beratinsky gave +him. Then the latter moved away, taking off his hat politely, but not +shaking hands.</p> + +<p>Brand was amused rather than surprised at this little adventure; but +when day after day passed, and no tidings came from Natalie, he grew +alarmed. Each morning he was certain there would be a letter; each +morning the postman rung the bell below, and Waters would tumble down +the stairs at breakneck speed, but not a word from Natalie or her +mother.</p> + +<p>At the little Buckinghamshire station at which he stopped he found a +dog-cart waiting to convey him to Hill Beeches; <!-- Page 326 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span>and speedily he was +driving away through the country he knew so well, now somewhat desolate +in the faded tints of the waning of the year; and perhaps, as he drew +near to the red and white house on the hill, he began to reproach +himself that he had not made the place more his home. Though the grounds +and shrubberies were neat and trim enough, there was a neglected look +about the house itself. When he entered, his footsteps rung hollow on +the uncarpeted floors. Chintz covered the furniture; muslin smothered +the chandeliers; everything seemed to be locked up and put away. And +this comely woman of sixty or so who came forward to meet him—a +smiling, gracious dame, with silvery-white hair, and peach-like cheeks, +and the most winning little laugh—was not her first word some hint to +the young master that he had been a long time away, and how the +neighbors were many a time asking her when a young mistress was coming +to the Beeches, to keep the place as it used to be kept in the olden +days?</p> + +<p>"Ah well, sir, you know how the people do talk," she said, with an +apologetic smile. "And there was Mrs. Diggles, sir, that is at the +Checkers, sir, and she was speaking only the other day, as it might be, +about the old oak cupboard, that you remember, sir, and she was saying, +'Well, I wouldn't give that cupboard to Mahster Brand, though he offered +me twenty pound for it years ago—twenty pound, not a farthing less. My +vather he gave me that cupboard when I was married, and ten shillings +was what he paid for it: and then there was twenty-five shillings paid +for putting that cupboard to rights. And then the wet day that Mahster +Brand was out shooting, and the Checkers that crowded that I had to ask +him and the other gentleman to go into my own room, and what does he say +but, "Mrs. Diggles, I will give you twenty pound for that cupboard of +yourn, once you knock off the feet and the curly bit on the top." Law, +how the gentle-folk do know about sech things: that was exactly what my +vather he paid the twenty-five shillings for. But how could I give him +my cupboard for twenty pound when I had promised it to my nephew? When +I'm taken, that cupboard my nephew shall have.' Well, sir, the people do +say that Mrs. Diggles and her nephew have had a quarrel; and this was +what she was saying to me—begging your pardon, sir—only the other day, +as it might be; says she, 'Mrs. Alleyne, this is what I will do: when +your young mahster brings home a wife to the Beeches, I will make his +lady a wedding-present of that cupboard of mine—that I will, if so be +as she is not too proud to accept it from one <!-- Page 327 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span>in my 'umble station. It +will be a wedding-present, and the sooner the better,' says she—begging +of your pardon, sir."</p> + +<p>"It is very kind of her, Mrs. Alleyne. Now let me have the keys, if you +please; I have one or two things to see to, and I will not detain you +now."</p> + +<p>She handed him the keys and accepted her dismissal gratefully, for she +was anxious to get off and see about luncheon. Then Brand proceeded to +stroll quietly, and perhaps even sadly, through the empty and resounding +rooms that had for him many memories.</p> + +<p>It was a rambling, old-fashioned, oddly-built house, that had been added +on to by successive generations, according to their needs, without much +reference to the original design. It had come into the possession of the +Brands of Darlington by marriage: George Brand's grandfather having +married a certain Lady Mary Heaton, the last representative of an old +and famous family. And these lonely rooms that he now walked +through—remarking here and there what prominence had been given by his +mother to the many trophies of the chase that he himself had sent home +from various parts of the world—were hung chiefly with portraits, whose +costumes ranged from the stiff frill and peaked waist of Elizabeth to +the low neck and ringleted hair of Victoria. But there was in an inner +room which he entered another collection of portraits that seemed to +have a peculiar fascination for him—a series of miniatures of various +members of the Heaton and Brand families, reaching down even to himself, +for the last that was added had been taken when he was a lad, to send to +his mother, then lying dangerously ill at Cannes. There was her own +portrait, too—that of a delicate-looking woman with large, lustrous, +soft eyes and wan cheeks, who had that peculiar tenderness and sweetness +of expression that frequently accompanies consumption. He sat looking at +these various portraits a long time, wondering now and again what this +or that one may have suffered or rejoiced in; but more than all he +lingered over the last, as if to bid those beautiful tender eyes a final +farewell.</p> + +<p>He was startled by the sound of some vehicle rattling over the gravel +outside; then he heard some one come walking through the echoing rooms. +Instantly, he scarcely knew why he shut down the lid of the case in +front of him.</p> + +<p>"Missed the train by just a second," Lord Evelyn said, coming into the +room; "I am awfully sorry."</p> + +<p>"It doesn't matter," Brand answered; "but I am glad you <!-- Page 328 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</a></span>have come. I +have everything squared up in London, I think; there only remains to +settle a few things down here."</p> + +<p>He spoke in quite a matter-of-fact way—so much so that his friend +forgot to utter any further and unavailing protest.</p> + +<p>"You know I am supposed to be going away abroad for a long time," he +continued. "You must take my place, Evelyn, in a sort of way, and I will +introduce you to-day to the people you must look after. There is a +grandson of my mother's nurse, for example: I promised to do something +for him when he completed his apprenticeship; and two old ladies who +have seen better days—they are not supposed to accept any help, but you +can make wonderful discoveries about the value of their old china, and +carry it off to Bond Street. I will leave you plenty of funds; before my +nephew comes into the place there will be sufficient for him and to +spare. But as for yourself, Evelyn, I want you to take some little +souvenir—how about this?"</p> + +<p>He went and fetched a curious old silver drinking-cup, set round the lip +and down the handle with uncut rubies and sapphires.</p> + +<p>"I don't like the notion of the thing at all," Lord Evelyn said, rather +gloomily; but it was not the cup that he was refusing thus ungraciously.</p> + +<p>"After a time people will give me up for lost; and I have left you ample +power to give any one you can think of some little present, don't you +know, as a memento—whatever strikes your own fancy. I want Natalie to +have that Louis XV. table over there—people rather admire the inlaid +work on it, and the devices inside are endless. However, we will make +out a list of these things afterward. Will you drive me down to the +village now? I want you to see my pensioners."</p> + +<p>"All right—if you like," Lord Evelyn said; though his heart was not in +the work.</p> + +<p>He walked out of this little room and made his way to the front-door, +fancying that Brand would immediately follow. But Brand returned to that +room, and opened the case of miniatures. Then he took from his pocket a +little parcel, and unrolled it: it was a portrait of Natalie—a +photograph on porcelain, most delicately colored, and surrounded with an +antique silver frame. He gazed for a minute or two at the beautiful +face, and somehow the eyes seemed sad to him. Then he placed the little +portrait—which itself looked like a miniature—next the miniature of +his mother, and shut the case and locked it.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, Evelyn, for keeping you waiting," he <!-- Page 329 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span>said, at the +front-door. "Will you particularly remember this—that none of the +portraits here are to be disturbed on any account whatever?"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLVII" id="CHAPTER_XLVII"></a>CHAPTER XLVII.</h2> + +<h3>AT PORTICI.</h3> + + +<p>Natalie slept far from soundly the first night after her arrival in +Naples; she was glad when the slow, anxious hours, with all their +bewildering uncertainties and forebodings, were over. She rose early, +and dressed quickly; she threw open the tall French windows to let in +the soft silken air from the sea; then she stepped out on the balcony to +marvel once more—she who knew Naples well enough—at the shining beauty +around her.</p> + +<p>It was a morning to give courage to any one; the air was fresh and +sweet; she drank deep of the abundant gladness and brightness of the +world. The great plain of waters before her shimmered and sparkled in +millions of diamonds; with here and there long splashes of sunny green, +and here and there long splashes of purple where the sea-weed showed +through. The waves sprung white on the projecting walls of the Castello +dell' Ovo, and washed in on the shore with a soft continuous murmur; the +brown-sailed fishing-boats went by, showing black or red as they +happened to be in sunshine or shadow. Then far away beyond the shining +sea the island of Capri lay like a blue cloud on the horizon; and far +away beyond the now awakening city near her rose Vesuvius, the twin +peaks dark under some swathes of cloud, the sunlight touching the lower +slopes into a yellowish green, and shining on the pink fringe of villas +along the shore. On so fair and bright a morning hope came as natural to +her as singing to a bird. The fears of the night were over; she could +not be afraid of what such a day should bring forth.</p> + +<p>And yet—and yet—from time to time—and just for a second or so—her +heart seemed to stand still. And she was so silent and preoccupied at +breakfast, that her mother remarked it; and Natalie had to excuse +herself by saying that she was a little tired with the travelling. After +breakfast she led her mother into the reading-room, and said, in rather +an excited way,</p> + +<p><!-- Page 330 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span></p><p>"Now, mother, here is a treat for you; you will get all the English +papers here, and all the news."</p> + +<p>"You forget, Natalie," said her mother, smiling, "that English papers +are not of much use to me."</p> + +<p>"Ah, well, the foreign papers," she said, quickly. "You see, mother, I +want to go along to a chemist's to get some white rose."</p> + +<p>"You should not throw it about the railway carriages so much, +Natalushka," the unsuspecting mother said, reprovingly. "You are +extravagant."</p> + +<p>She did not heed.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps they will have it in Naples. Wait until I come back, mother; I +shall not be long."</p> + +<p>But it was not white-rose scent that was in her mind as she went rapidly +away and got ready to go out; and it was not in search of any chemist's +shop that she made her way to the Via Roma. Why, she had asked herself +that morning, as she stood on the balcony, and drank in the sunlight and +the sweet air, should she take the poor tired mother with her on this +adventure? If there was danger, she would brave it by herself. She +walked quickly—perhaps anxious to make the first plunge.</p> + +<p>She had no difficulty in finding the Vico Carlo, though it was one of +the narrowest and steepest of the small, narrow, and steep lanes leading +off the main thoroughfare into the masses of tall and closely-built +houses on the side of the hill. But when she looked up and recognized +the little plate bearing the name at the corner, she turned a little +pale; something, she knew not what, was now so near.</p> + +<p>And as she turned into this narrow and squalid little alley, it seemed +as if her eyes, through some excitement or other, observed the objects +around her with a strange intensity. She could remember each and every +one of them afterward—the fruit-sellers bawling, and the sellers of +acidulated drinks out-roaring them; the shoemakers already at work at +their open stalls; mules laden with vegetables; a negro monk, with his +black woolly head above the brown hood; a venerable letter-writer at a +small table, spectacles on nose and pen in hand, with two women +whispering to him what he was to write for them. She made her way up the +steep lane, through the busy, motley, malodorous crowd, until she +reached the corner pointed out to her by Calabressa.</p> + +<p>But he had not told her which way to turn, and for a second or two she +stood in the middle of the crossing, uncertain and bewildered. A +brawny-looking fellow, apparently a <!-- Page 331 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span>butcher, addressed her; she +murmured some thanks, and hastily turned away, taking to the right. She +had not gone but a few yards when she saw the entrance to a court which, +at least, was certainly as dark as that described by Calabressa. She was +half afraid that the man who had spoken to her was following her; and +so, without further hesitation, she plunged into this gloomy court-yard, +which was apparently quite deserted.</p> + +<p>She was alone, and she looked around. A second convinced her that she +had hit upon the place, as it were by accident. Over her head swung an +oil-lamp, that threw but the scantiest orange light into the vague +shadows of the place; and in front of her were the open windows of what +was apparently a wine-shop. She did not stay to reflect. Perhaps with +some little tightening of the mouth—unknown to herself—she walked +forward and entered the vaults.</p> + +<p>Here, again, no one was visible; there were rows of tuns, certainly, and +a musty odor in the place, but no sign of any trade or business being +carried on. Suddenly out of the darkness appeared a figure—so suddenly +indeed as to startle her. Had this man been seen in ordinary daylight, +he would no doubt have looked nothing worse than a familiar type of the +fat black-a-vised Italian—not a very comely person, it is true, but not +in any way horrible—but now these dusky shadows lent something +ghoulish-looking to his bushy head and greasy face and sparkling black +eyes.</p> + +<p>"What is the pleasure of the young lady?" he said, curtly.</p> + +<p>Natalie had been startled.</p> + +<p>"I wished to inquire—I wished to mention," she stammered, "one +Bartolotti."</p> + +<p>But at the same time she was conscious of a strange sinking of the +heart. Was this the sort of creature who was expected to save the life +of her lover?—this the sort of man to pit against Ferdinand Lind? Poor +old Calabressa—she thought he meant well, but he boasted, he was +foolish.</p> + +<p>This heavy-faced and heavy-bodied man in the dusk did not reply at once. +He turned aside, saying,</p> + +<p>"Excuse me, signorina, it is dark here; they have neglected to light the +lamps as yet."</p> + +<p>Then, with much composure, he got a lamp, struck a match, and lit it. +The light was not great, but he placed it deliberately so that it shone +on Natalie, and then he calmly investigated her appearance.</p> + +<p>"Yes, signorina, you mentioned one Bartolotti," he remarked, in a more +respectful tone.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 332 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span></p><p>Natalie hesitated. According to Calabressa's account, the mere mention +of the name was to act as a talisman which would work wonders for her. +This obese person merely stood there, awaiting what she should say.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," she said, in great embarrassment, "you know one Calabressa?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, Calabressa!" he said, and the dull face lighted up with a little +more intelligence. "Yes, of course, one knows Calabressa."</p> + +<p>"He is a friend of mine," she said. "Perhaps, if I could see him, he +would explain to you—"</p> + +<p>"But Calabressa is not here; he is not even in this country, perhaps."</p> + +<p>Then silence. A sort of terror seized her. Was this the end of all her +hopes? Was she to go away thus? Then came a sudden cry, wrung from her +despair.</p> + +<p>"Oh, sir, you must tell me if there is no one who can help me! I have +come to save one who is in trouble, in danger. Calabressa said to me, +'Go to Naples; go to such and such a place; the mere word Bartolotti +will give you powerful friends; count on them; they will not fail one +who belongs to the Berezolyis.' And now—"</p> + +<p>"Your pardon, signorina: have the complaisance to repeat the name."</p> + +<p>"Berezolyi," she answered, quickly; "he said it would be known."</p> + +<p>"I for my part do not know it; but that is of no consequence," said the +man. "I begin to perceive what it is that you demand. It is serious. I +hope my friend Calabressa is justified. I have but to do my duty."</p> + +<p>Then he glanced at the young lady—or, rather, at her costume.</p> + +<p>"The assistance you demand for some one, signorina: is it a sum of +money—is it a reasonable, ordinary sum of money that would be in the +question, perhaps?"</p> + +<p>"Oh no, signore; not at all!"</p> + +<p>"Very well. Then have the kindness to write your name and your address +for me: I will convey your appeal."</p> + +<p>He brought her writing materials; after a moment's consideration she +wrote—"<i>Natalie Lind, the daughter of Natalie Berezolyi. Hotel ——</i>." +She handed him the paper.</p> + +<p>"A thousand thanks, signorina. To-day, perhaps to-morrow, you will hear +from the friends of Calabressa. You will be ready to go where they ask +you to go?"</p> + +<p><!-- Page 333 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</a></span></p><p>"Oh yes, yes, sir!" she exclaimed. "How can I thank you?"</p> + +<p>"It is unnecessary," he said, taking the lamp to show her the way more +clearly. "I have the honor to wish you good-morning, signorina." And +again he bowed respectfully. "Your most humble servant, signorina."</p> + +<p>She returned to the hotel, and found that her mother had gone up-stairs +to her own room.</p> + +<p>"Natalushka, you have been away trying to find some one?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, mother," the girl said, rather sadly.</p> + +<p>"Why did you go alone?"</p> + +<p>"I thought I would not tire you, dear mother."</p> + +<p>Then she described all the circumstances of her morning's visit.</p> + +<p>"But why should you be so sad, Natalushka?" the mother said, taking her +daughter's hand; "don't you know that fine palaces may have rusty keys? +Oh, I can reassure you on that point. You will not have to deal with +persons like your friend the wine-merchant—not at all. I know at least +as much as that, child. But you see, they have to guard themselves."</p> + +<p>Natalie would not leave the hotel for a moment. She pretended to read; +but every person who came into the reading-room caused her to look up +with a start of apprehensive inquiry. At last there came a note for her. +She broke open the envelope hurriedly, and found a plain white card, +with these words written on it:</p> + +<p>"<i>Be at the Villa Odelschalchi, Portici, at four this afternoon.</i>"</p> + +<p>Joy leaped to her face again.</p> + +<p>"Mother, look!" she cried, eagerly. "After all, we may hope."</p> + +<p>"This time you shall not go alone, Natalushka."</p> + +<p>"Why not, mother? I am not afraid."</p> + +<p>"I may be of use to you, child. There may be friends of mine there—who +knows? I am going with you."</p> + +<p>In course of time they hired a carriage, and drove away through the +crowded and gayly-colored city in the glow of the afternoon. But they +had sufficient prudence, before reaching Portici, to descend from the +carriage and proceed on foot. They walked quietly along, apparently not +much interested in what was around them. Presently Natalie pressed her +mother's arm, they were opposite the Villa Odelschalchi—there was the +name on the flat pillars by the gate.</p> + +<p>This great plain building, which might have been called a palazzo rather +than a villa, seemed, on the side fronting the <!-- Page 334 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[Pg 334]</a></span>street, to be entirely +closed—all the casements of the windows being shut. But when they +crossed to the gate, and pulled the big iron handle that set a bell +ringing, a porter appeared—a big, indolent-looking man, who regarded +them calmly, to see which would speak first.</p> + +<p>Natalie simply produced the card that had been sent to her.</p> + +<p>"This is the Villa Odelschalchi, I perceive," she said.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it is you, then, signorina?" the porter said, with great respect. +"Yes, there was one lady to come here at four o'clock—"</p> + +<p>"But the signora is my mother," said Natalie, perhaps with a trifle of +impatience.</p> + +<p>The man hesitated for a moment, but by this time Natalie, accompanied by +her mother, had passed through the cool gray archway into the spacious +tessellated court, from which rose on each hand a wide marble staircase.</p> + +<p>"Will the signorina and the signora her mother condescend to follow me?" +the porter said, leading the way up one of the staircases, the big iron +keys still in his hand.</p> + +<p>They were shown into an antechamber, but scantily furnished, and the +porter disappeared. In a minute or two there came into the room a small, +sallow-complexioned man, who was no other than the Secretary Granaglia. +He bowed, and, as he did so, glanced from the one to the other of the +visitors with scrutiny.</p> + +<p>"It is no doubt correct, signorina," said he, addressing himself to +Natalie, "that you have brought the signora your mother with you. We had +thought you were alone, from the message we received. No matter; +only"—and here he turned to Natalie's mother—"only, signora, you will +renew your acquaintance with one who wishes to be known by the name of +Von Zoesch. I have no doubt the signora understands."</p> + +<p>"Oh, perfectly, perfectly!" said the elder woman: she had been familiar +with these prudent changes of name all her life.</p> + +<p>The Secretary Granaglia bowed and retired.</p> + +<p>"It is some one who knows you, mother?" Natalie said, breathlessly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I hope so!" the other answered. She was a little pale, and her +fingers were tightly clasped.</p> + +<p>Then a heavier step was heard in the empty corridors outside. The door +was opened; there appeared a tall and soldierly-looking man, about six +feet three in height and per<!-- Page 335 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</a></span>fectly erect, with closely-cropped white +hair, a long white mustache, a reddish face, and clear, piercing, +light-blue eyes. The moment the elder woman saw him she uttered a slight +cry—of joy, it seemed, and surprise—and sprung to her feet.</p> + +<p>"Stefan!"</p> + +<p>"Natalie!" he exclaimed, in turn with an almost boyish laugh of +pleasure, and he came forward to her with both hands outstretched, and +took hers. "Why, what good wind has brought you to this country? But I +beg a thousand pardons—"</p> + +<p>He turned and glanced at Natalie.</p> + +<p>"My child," she said, "let me present you to my old friend, General—"</p> + +<p>"Von Zoesch," he interrupted, and he took Natalie's hand at the same +time. "What, you are the young lady, then, who bearded the lion in his +den this morning?—and you were not afraid? No, I can see you are a +Berezolyi; if you were a man you would be forever getting yourself and +your friends into scrapes, and risking your neck to get them out again. +A Berezolyi, truly! 'The more beautiful daughter of a beautiful mother!' +But the little scamp knew his insulting iambics were only fit to be +thrown into the fire when he made that unjust comparison. Ah, you young +people have fresh complexions and bright eyes on your side, but we old +people prefer our old friends."</p> + +<p>"I hope so, sir," said Natalie, with her eyes bent down.</p> + +<p>"And had your father no other messenger that he must employ you?" said +this erect, white-haired giant, who regarded her in a kindly way; "or is +it that feather-brained fellow Calabressa who has got you to intercede +for him? Rest assured. Calabressa will soon be in imminent peril of +being laid by the heels, and he is therefore supremely happy."</p> + +<p>Before the girl could speak he had turned to the mother.</p> + +<p>"Come, my old friend, shall we go out into the garden? I am sorry the +reception-rooms in the villa are all dismantled; in truth, we are only +temporary lodgers. And I have a great many questions to ask you about +old friends, particularly your father."</p> + +<p>"Stefan, can you not understand why I have permitted myself to leave +Hungary?"</p> + +<p>He glanced at her deep mourning.</p> + +<p>"Ah, is that so? Well, no one ever lived a braver life. And how he kept +up the old Hungarian traditions!—the house a hotel from month's end to +month's end: no questions asked but 'Are you a stranger? then my house +is yours.'"</p> + +<p><!-- Page 336 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</a></span></p><p>He led the way down the stairs, chatting to this old friend of his; and +though Natalie was burning with impatience, she forced herself to be +silent. Was it not all in her favor that this member of the mysterious +Council should recur to these former days, and remind himself of his +intimacy with her family? She followed them in silence: he seemed to +have forgotten her existence.</p> + +<p>They passed through the court-yard, and down some broad steps. The true +front of the building was on this seaward side—a huge mass of pink, +with green casements. From the broad stone steps a series of terraces, +prettily laid out, descended to a lawn; but, instead of passing down +that way, the tall, soldierly-looking man led his companion by a +side-flight of steps, which enabled them to enter an <i>allee</i> cut through +a mass of olives and orange and lemon trees. There were fig-trees along +the wall by the side of this path; a fountain plashed coolly out there +on the lawn, and beyond the opening showed the deep blue of the sea, +with the clear waves breaking whitely on the shores.</p> + +<p>They sat down on a garden-seat; and Natalie, sitting next her mother, +waited patiently and breathlessly, scarcely hearing all this talk about +old companions and friends.</p> + +<p>At last the general said,</p> + +<p>"Now about the business that brought you here: is it serious?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, very," the mother said, with some color of excitement appearing +in her worn face; "it is a friend of ours in England: he has been +charged by the Society with some duty that will cost him his life; we +have come to intercede for him—to ask you to save him. For the sake of +old times, Stefan—"</p> + +<p>"Wait a moment," said the other, looking grave. "Do you mean the +Englishman?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes; the same."</p> + +<p>"And who has told you what it is purposed to have done?" he asked, with +quite a change in his manner.</p> + +<p>"No one," she answered, eagerly; "we guess that it is something of great +danger."</p> + +<p>"And if that is so, are you unfamiliar with persons having to incur +danger? Why not an Englishman as well as another? This is an +extraordinary freak of yours, Natalie; I cannot understand it. And to +have come so far when any one in England—any one of us, I mean—could +have told you it was useless."</p> + +<p>"But why useless, if you are inclined to interfere?" she <!-- Page 337 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[Pg 337]</a></span>said, boldly, +"and I think my father's family have some title to consideration."</p> + +<p>"My old friend," said he, in a kindly way, "what is there in the world I +would not do for you if it were within my power? But this is not. What +you ask is, to put the matter shortly, impossible—impossible!"</p> + +<p>In the brief silence that followed the mother heard a slight sigh: she +turned instantly, and saw her daughter, as white as death, about to +fall. She caught her in her arms with a slight cry of alarm.</p> + +<p>"Here, Stefan, take my handkerchief—dip it in the water—quick!"</p> + +<p>The huge, bullet-headed man strode across the lawn to the fountain. As +he returned, and saw before him the white-lipped, unconscious girl, who +was supported in her mother's arms, he said to himself, "Now I +understand."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLVIII" id="CHAPTER_XLVIII"></a>CHAPTER XLVIII.</h2> + +<h3>AN APPEAL.</h3> + + +<p>This sudden and involuntary confession of alarm and despair no doubt +told her story more clearly than anything else could have done. General +von Zoesch as he chose to call himself, was excessively concerned; he +held her hand till he saw the life returning to the pale, beautiful +face: he was profuse and earnest in his apologies.</p> + +<p>"My dear young lady I beg a thousand pardons!—I had no idea of alarming +you; I had no idea you were so deeply interested; come, take my arm, and +we will walk down into the open, where the sea-air is cool. I beg a +thousand pardons."</p> + +<p>She had pulled herself together with a desperate effort of will.</p> + +<p>"You spoke abruptly, signore; you used the word <i>impossible</i>! I had +imagined it was unknown to you."</p> + +<p>Her lips were rather pale; but there was a flush of color returning to +her face, and her voice had something of the old proud and pathetic ring +in it.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she continued, standing-before him, with her eyes downcast, "I +was told that when great trouble came upon me or mine I was to come +here—to Naples—and I should find myself under the protection of the +greatest power in <!-- Page 338 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[Pg 338]</a></span>Europe. My name—my mother's name—was to be enough. +And this is the result, that a brave man, who is our friend and dear to +us, is threatened with a dishonorable death, and the very power that +imposed it on him—the power that was said to be invincible, and wise, +and generous—is unable or unwilling to stir hand or foot!"</p> + +<p>"A dishonorable death, signorina?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, signore," she said, with a proud indignation, "do not speak to me +as if I were a child. Cannot one see what is behind all this secrecy? +Cannot one see that you know well what has been done in England by your +friends and colleagues? You put this man, who is too proud, too noble, +to withdraw from his word, on a service that involves the certain +sacrifice of his life! and there is no honor attached to this +sacrifice—so he himself has admitted. What does that mean?—what can it +mean—but assassination?"</p> + +<p>He drew back his head a little bit, as if startled, and stared at her.</p> + +<p>"My dear young lady—"</p> + +<p>But her courage had not returned to her for nothing. She raised the +beautiful, dark, pathetic eyes, and regarded him with an indignant +fearlessness.</p> + +<p>"That is what any one might guess," she said. "But there is more. +Signore, you and your friends meditate the assassination of the King of +Italy! and you call on an Englishman—an Englishman who has no love of +secret and blood-stained ways—"</p> + +<p>"Stefan!" the mother cried, quickly, and she placed her hand on the +general's arm; "do not be angry. Do not heed her—she is a child—she is +quick to speak. Believe me, there are other reasons for our coming to +you."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, my friend Natalie; all in good time. But I am most anxious to +put myself right with the signorina your daughter first of all. Now, my +dear young lady," he said, taking her hand, and putting it on his arm, +and gently compelling her to walk with him toward the opener space where +the sea-air was cool, "I again apologize to you for having spoken +unwittingly—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, signore, do not trouble about that! It is no matter of courtesy or +politeness that is in the question: it is the life of one of one's +dearest friends. There are other times for politeness."</p> + +<p>"Stefan," the mother interposed, anxiously, "do not heed her—she is +agitated."</p> + +<p>"My dear Natalie," said the general, smiling, "I admire <!-- Page 339 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[Pg 339]</a></span>a brave woman +as I admire a brave man. Do not I recognize another of you Berezolyis? +The moment you think one of your friends is being wronged, fire and +water won't prevent you from speaking out. No, no, my dear young lady," +he said, turning to the daughter, "you cannot offend me by being loyal +and outspoken."</p> + +<p>He patted her hand, just as Calabressa had done.</p> + +<p>"But I must ask you to listen for a moment, to remove one or two +misconceptions. It is true I know something of the service which your +English friend has undertaken to perform. Believe me, it has nothing to +do with the assassination of the King of Italy—nothing in the world."</p> + +<p>She lifted her dark eyes for a second, and regarded him steadily.</p> + +<p>"I perceive," said he, "that you pay me the compliment of asking me if I +lie. I do not. Reassure yourself: there are no people in this country +more loyal to the present dynasty than my friends and myself. We have no +time for wild Republican projects."</p> + +<p>She looked somewhat bewildered. This speculation as to the possible +nature of the service demanded of George Brand had been the outcome of +many a night's anxious self-communing; and she had indulged in the wild +hope that this man, when abruptly challenged, might have been startled +into some avowal. For then, would not her course have been clear enough? +But now she was thrown back on her former perplexity, with only the one +certainty present to her mind—the certainty of the danger that +confronted her lover.</p> + +<p>"My dear young lady," he said, "it is useless for you to ask what that +service is, for I shall refuse to answer you. But I assure you that you +have my deepest sympathy, and I have seen a good deal of suffering from +similar causes. I do not seek to break into your confidence, but I think +I understand your position; you will believe me that it is with no light +heart that I must repeat the word <i>impossible</i>. Need I reason with you? +Need I point out to you that there is scarcely any one in the world whom +we might select for a dangerous duty who would not have some one who +would suffer on his account? Who is without some tie of affection that +must be cut asunder—no matter with what pain—when the necessity for +the sacrifice arises? You are one of the unhappy ones; you must be +brave; you must try to forget your sufferings, as thousands of wives and +sweethearts and daughters have had to forget, in thinking that their +relatives and friends died in a good cause."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 340 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[Pg 340]</a></span></p><p>Her heart was proud and indignant no longer; it had grown numbed. The +air from the sea felt cold.</p> + +<p>"I am helpless, signore," she murmured; "I do not know what the cause +is. I do not know what justification you have for taking this man's +life."</p> + +<p>He did not answer that. He said,</p> + +<p>"Perhaps, indeed, it is not those who are called on to sacrifice their +life for the general good who suffer most. They can console themselves +with thinking of the result. It is their friends—those dearest to +them—who suffer, and who many a time would no doubt be glad to become +their substitutes. It is true that we—that is, that many +associations—recognize the principle of the vicarious performance of +duties and punishments; but not any one yet has permitted a woman to +become substitute for a man."</p> + +<p>"What made you think of that, signore?" she asked, regarding him.</p> + +<p>"I have known some cases," he said, evasively, "where such an offer, I +think, would have been made."</p> + +<p>"It could not be accepted?"</p> + +<p>"Oh no."</p> + +<p>"Not even by the power that is the greatest in Europe?" she said, +bitterly—"that is invincible and all-generous? Oh, signore, you are too +modest in your pretensions! And the Berezolyis—they have done nothing, +then, in former days to entitle them to consideration; they are but as +anybody in the crowd who might come forward and intercede for a friend; +they have no old associates, then, and companions in this Society, that +they cannot have this one thing granted them—that they cannot get this +one man's life spared to him! Signore, your representatives mistake your +powers; more than that, they mistake the strength of your memory, and +your friendship!"</p> + +<p>The red face of the bullet-headed general grew redder still, but not +with anger.</p> + +<p>"Signorina," he said, evidently greatly embarrassed, "you humiliate me. +You—you do not know what you ask—"</p> + +<p>He had led her back to the garden-seat; they had both sat down; he did +not notice how her bosom was struggling with emotion.</p> + +<p>"You ask me to interfere—to commit an act of injustice—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, signore, signore, this is what I ask!" she cried, quite overcome; +and she fell at his feet, and put her clasped hands on his knees, and +broke into a wild fit of crying; "this is what I ask of you, +signore—this is what I beg from <!-- Page 341 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[Pg 341]</a></span>you on my knees—I ask you to give me +the life of—of my betrothed!"</p> + +<p>She buried her face in her hands; her frame was shaken with her sobs.</p> + +<p>"Little daughter," said he, greatly agitated, "rise; come, remain here +for a few moments; I wish to speak to your mother—alone. Natalie!"</p> + +<p>The elder woman accompanied him a short <ins class="correction" title="Printed: distance across across the">distance across the</ins> lawn; +they stood by the fountain.</p> + +<p>"By Heaven, I would do anything for the child!" he said, rapidly; "but +you see, dear friend, how it is impossible. Look at the injustice of it. +If we transferred this duty to another person, what possible excuse +could we make to him whom we might choose?"</p> + +<p>He was looking back at the girl.</p> + +<p>"It will kill her, Stefan," the mother said.</p> + +<p>"Others have suffered also."</p> + +<p>The elder woman seemed to collect herself a little.</p> + +<p>"But I told you we had not said everything to you. The poor child is in +despair; she has not thought of all the reasons that induced us to come +to you. Stefan, you remember my cousin Konrad?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, I remember Konrad well enough," said the <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: "genral" in the original text">general</ins>, +absently, for he was still regarding the younger Natalie, who +sat on the bench, her hands clasped, her head bent down. "Poor fellow, +he came to a sad end at last; but he always carried his life in his +hands, and with a gay heart too."</p> + +<p>"But you remember, do you not, something before that?" the mother said, +with some color coming into her face. "You remember how my husband had +him chosen—and I myself appealed—and you, Stefan, you were among the +first to say that the Society must inquire—"</p> + +<p>"Ah, but that was different, Natalie. You know why it was that that +commission had to be reversed."</p> + +<p>"Do I know? Yes. What else have I had to think about these sixteen or +seventeen years since my child was separated from me?" she said, sadly. +"And perhaps I have grown suspicious; perhaps I have grown mad to think +that what has happened once might happen again."</p> + +<p>"What?" he said, turning his clear blue eyes suddenly on her.</p> + +<p>She did not flinch.</p> + +<p>"Consider the circumstances, Stefan, and say whether one has no reason +to suspect. The Englishman, this Mr. Brand, loves Natalie; she loves him +in return; my husband refuses <!-- Page 342 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[Pg 342]</a></span>his consent to the marriage; and yet they +meet in opposition to his wishes. Then there is another thing that I +cannot so well explain, but it is something about a request on my +husband's part that Mr. Brand, who is a man of wealth, should accept a +certain offer, and give over his property to the funds of the Society."</p> + +<p>"I understand perfectly," her companion said, calmly. "Well?"</p> + +<p>"Well, Mr. Brand, thinking of Natalie's future, refuses. But consider +this, Stefan, that it had been hinted to him before that in case of his +refusal, he might be sent to America to remain there for life."</p> + +<p>"I perceive, my old friend, that you are reading in your own +interpretations into an ordinary matter of business. However—"</p> + +<p>"But his refusal was immediately followed by that arrangement. He was +ordered to go to America. My husband, no doubt considered that that +would effectually separate him and Natalie—"</p> + +<p>"Again you are putting in your own interpretation."</p> + +<p>"One moment, Stefan. My child is brave; she thought an injustice was +being done; she thought it was for her sake that her lover was being +sent away, and then she spoke frankly; she said she would go with him."</p> + +<p>"Yes?" He was now listening with more interest.</p> + +<p>"You perceive then, my dear friend, my husband was thwarted in every +way. Then it was, and quite suddenly, that he reversed this arrangement +about America, and there fell on Mr. Brand this terrible thing. Knowing +what I know, do you not think I had fair cause for suspicion? And when +Natalie said, 'Oh, there are those abroad who will remove this great +trouble from us,' then I said to myself, 'At all events, the Society +does not countenance injustice; it will see that right has been done.'"</p> + +<p>The face of the man had grown grave, and for some time he did not speak.</p> + +<p>"I see what you suggest, Natalie," he said at length. "It is a serious +matter. I should have said your suspicions were idle—that the thing was +impossible—but for the fact that it has occurred before. Strange, now, +if old ——, whose wisdom and foresight the world is beginning to +recognize now, should be proved to be wise on this point too, as on so +many others. He used always to say to us: 'When once you find a man +unfaithful, never trust him after. When once a man has allowed himself +to put his personal advantage before his duty <!-- Page 343 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[Pg 343]</a></span>to such a society as +yours, it shows that somewhere or other there is in him the leaven of a +self-seeker, which is fatal to all societies. Impose the heaviest +penalties on such an offence; cast him out when you have the +opportunity.' It would be strange, indeed; it would be like fate; it +would appear as though the thing were in the blood, and must come out, +no matter what warning the man may have had before. You know, Natalie, +what your husband had to endure for his former lapse?"</p> + +<p>She nodded her head.</p> + +<p>For some time he was again silent, and there was a deeper air of +reflection on his face than almost seemed natural to it, for he looked +more of a soldier than a thinker.</p> + +<p>"If there were any formality," he said, almost to himself, "in the +proceedings, one might have just cause to intervene. But your husband, +my Natalie," he continued, addressing her directly, "is well trusted by +us. He has done us long and faithful service. We should be slow to put +any slight upon him, especially that of suspicion."</p> + +<p>"That, Stefan," said Natalie's mother, with courage, "is a small matter, +surely, compared with the possibility of your letting this man go to his +death unjustly. You would countenance, then, an act of private revenge? +That is the use you would let the powers of your Society be put to? That +is not what Janecki, what Rausch, what Falevitch looked forward to."</p> + +<p>The taunt was quite lost on him; he was calmly regarding Natalie. She +had not stirred. After that one outburst of despairing appeal there was +no more for her to say or to do. She could wait, mutely, and hear what +the fate of her lover was to be.</p> + +<p>"Unfortunately," said the general, turning and looking up at the vast +pink frontage of the villa, "There are no papers here that one can +appeal to. I only secured the temporary use of the villa, as being a +more fitting place than some to receive the signorina your daughter. But +it is possible the Secretary may remember something; he has a good +memory. Will you excuse me, Natalie, for a few moments?"</p> + +<p>He strode away toward the house. The mother went over to her daughter, +and put a hand on her shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Courage, Natalushka! You must not despair yet. Ah, my old friend Stefan +has a kind heart; there were tears in his eyes when he turned away from +your appeal to him. He does not forget old associates."</p> + +<p>Von Zoesch almost immediately returned, still looking pre<!-- Page 344 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[Pg 344]</a></span>occupied. He +drew Natalie's mother aside a few steps, and said,</p> + +<p>"This much I may tell you, Natalie: in the proceedings four were +concerned—your husband, Mr. Brand, Beratinsky, Reitzei. What do you +know of these last two?"</p> + +<p>"I? Alas, Stefan, I know nothing of them!"</p> + +<p>"And we here little. They are your husband's appointment. I may also +tell you, Natalie, that the Secretary is also of my opinion, that it is +very unlikely your husband would be so audacious as to repeat his +offence of former years, by conspiring to fix this duty on this man to +serve his own interests. It would be too audacious, unless his temper +had outrun his reason altogether."</p> + +<p>"But you must remember, Stefan," she said, eagerly, "that there was no +one in England who knew that former story. He could not imagine that I +was to be, unhappily, set free to go to my daughter—that I should be at +her side when this trouble fell on her—"</p> + +<p>"Nevertheless," said he, gently interrupting her, "you have appealed to +us: we will inquire. It will be a delicate affair. If there has been any +complicity, any unfairness, to summon these men hither would be to make +firmer confederates of them than ever. If one could get at them +separately, individually—"</p> + +<p>He kept pressing his white mustache into his teeth with his forefinger.</p> + +<p>"If Calabressa were not such a talker," he said, absently. "But he has +ingenuity, the feather-brained devil."</p> + +<p>"Stefan, I could trust everything to Calabressa," she said.</p> + +<p>"In the mean time," he said, "I will not detain you. If you remain at +the same hotel we shall be able to communicate with you. I presume your +<ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: "carraige" in the original text"> +carriage</ins> is outside?"</p> + +<p>"It is waiting for us a little way off."</p> + +<p>He accompanied them into the tessellated court-yard, but not to the +gate. He bade good-bye to his elder friend; then he took the younger +lady's hand and held it, and regarded her.</p> + +<p>"Figliuola mia," he said, with a kindly glance, "I pity you if you have +to suffer. We will hope for better things: if it is impossible, you have +a brave heart."</p> + +<p>When they had left he went up the marble staircase and along the empty +corridor until he reached a certain room.</p> + +<p>"Granaglia, can you tell me where our friend Calabressa may happen to be +at this precise moment?"</p> + +<p>"At Brindisi, I believe, Excellenza."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 345 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[Pg 345]</a></span></p><p>"At Brindisi still. The devil of a fellow is not so impatient as I had +expected. Ah, well. Have the goodness to send for him, friend Granaglia, +and bid him come with speed."</p> + +<p>"Most willingly, Excellenza."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIX" id="CHAPTER_XLIX"></a>CHAPTER XLIX.</h2> + +<h3>AN EMISSARY.</h3> + + +<p>One warm, still afternoon Calabressa was walking quickly along the +crowded quays of Naples, when he was beset by a more than usually +importunate beggar—a youth of about twelve, almost naked.</p> + +<p>"Something for bread, signore—for the love of God—my father taken to +heaven, my mother starving—bread, signore—"</p> + +<p>"To the devil with you!" said Calabressa.</p> + +<p>"May you burst!" replied the polite youth, and he tried to kick +Calabressa's legs and make off at the same time.</p> + +<p>This feat he failed in, so that, as he was departing, Calabressa hit him +a cuff on the side of the head which sent him rolling. Then there was a +howl, and presently there was a universal tumult of women, calling out, +"Ah, the German! ah, the foreigner!" and so forth, and drawing +threateningly near. Calabressa sought in his pockets for a handful of +small copper coins, turned, threw them high in the air, and did not stay +to watch the effect of the shower on the heads of the women, but walked +quietly away.</p> + +<p>However, in thus suddenly turning, he had caught sight—even with his +near-sighted eyes—of an unwholesome-looking young man, pale, +clean-shaven, with bushy black hair, whom he recognized. He appeared to +pay no attention, but walked quickly on. Taking one or two unnecessary +turnings, he became convinced that the young man, as he had suspected, +was following him: then, without more ado, and even without looking +behind him, he set out for his destination, which was Posilipo.</p> + +<p>In due course of time he began to ascend the wooded hill with its villas +and walls and cactus-hedges. At a certain turning, where he could not be +observed by any one behind him, he turned sharp off to the left, and +stood behind a wooden gate; a couple of minutes afterward the young man +<!-- Page 346 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[Pg 346]</a></span>came along, more rapidly now, for he no doubt fancied that Calabressa +had disappeared ahead.</p> + +<p>Calabressa stepped out from his hiding-place, went after him, and tapped +him on the shoulder. He turned, stared, and endeavored to appear angry +and astonished.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, to be sure," said Calabressa, with calm sarcasm, "at your +disposition, signore. So we were not satisfied with selling photographs +and pebbles to the English on board the steamer; we want to get a little +Judas money; we sell ourselves to the weasels, the worms, the vermin—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I assure you, signore—" the shaven-faced youth exclaimed, much +more humbly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I assure you too, signore," Calabressa continued, facetiously. "And +you, you poor innocent, you have not been with the weasels six weeks +when you think you will try your nose in tracking me. Body of Bacchus, +it is too insolent!"</p> + +<p>"I assure you, signore—"</p> + +<p>"Now, behold this, my friend: we must give children like you a warning. +If you had been a little older, and not quite so foolish, I should have +had you put on the Black List of my friends the Camorristi—you +understand? But you—we will cure you otherwise. You know the +Englishman's yacht that has come into the Great Harbor—"</p> + +<p>"Signore, I beg of you—"</p> + +<p>"Beg of the devil!" said Calabressa, calmly. "Between the Englishman's +yacht and the Little Mole you will find a schooner moored—her name. <i>La +Svezia</i>; do not forget—<i>La Svezia</i>. To-morrow you will go on board of +her, ask for the captain, go down below, and beg him to be so kind as to +give you twelve stripes—"</p> + +<p>"Signore—"</p> + +<p>"Another word, <i>mouchard</i>, and I make it twenty. He will give you a +receipt, which you will sign, and bring to me; otherwise, down goes your +name on the list. Which do you prefer? Oh, we will teach some of you +young weasels a lesson! I have the honor to wish you a good morning."</p> + +<p>Calabressa touched his hat politely, and walked on, leaving the young +man petrified with rage and fear.</p> + +<p>By-and-by he began to walk more leisurely and with more circumspection, +keeping a sharp lookout, as well as his near-sighted eyes allowed, on +any passer-by or vehicle he happened to meet. At length, and with the +same precautions he had used on a former occasion, he entered the +grounds of the villa he had sought out in the company of Gathorne +Ed<!-- Page 347 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[Pg 347]</a></span>wards, and made his way up to the fountain on the little plateau. But +now his message had been previously prepared; he dropped it into the +receptacle concealed beneath the lip of the fountain, and then descended +the steep little terraces <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: "untill" in the original text"> +until</ins> he got round to the entrance of the grotto.</p> + +<p>Instead of passing in by this cleft in the rockwork, however, he found +awaiting him there the person who had summoned him—the so-called +General Von Zoesch. Calabressa was somewhat startled, but he said, "Your +humble servant, Excellenza," and removed his cap.</p> + +<p>"Keep your hat on your head, friend Calabressa," said the other, +good-naturedly; "you are as old as I am."</p> + +<p>He seated himself on a projecting ledge of the rockwork, and motioned to +Calabressa to do likewise on the other side of the entrance. They were +completely screened from observation by a mass of olive and fig trees, +to say nothing of the far-stretching orange <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: "shubbery" in the original text"> +shrubbery</ins> beyond.</p> + +<p>"The Council have paid you a high compliment, my Calabressa," the +general said, plunging at once into the matter. "They have resolved to +intrust you with a very difficult mission."</p> + +<p>"It is a great honor."</p> + +<p>"You won't have to risk your neck, which will no doubt disappoint you, +but you will have to show us whether there is the stuff of a diplomatist +in you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, as for that, Excellenza," <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: "Callabressa" in the original text"> +Calabressa</ins> +said confidently, "one can be a <i>bavard</i> at times, for amusement, for +nonsense; and one can at times be silent when there is necessity."</p> + +<p>"You know of the affair of Zaccatelli. The agent has been found, as we +desired in England. I understand you know him; his name is Brand."</p> + +<p>Calabressa uttered an exclamation.</p> + +<p>"Excellenza, do you know what you have said? You pierce my heart. Why he +of all those in England? He is the betrothed of Natalie's daughter—the +Natalie Berezolyi, Excellenza, who married Ferdinand Lind—"</p> + +<p>"I know it," said the other, calmly. "I have seen the young lady. She is +a beautiful child."</p> + +<p>"She is more than that—she is a beautiful-souled child!" said +Calabressa, in great agitation, "and she has a tender heart. I tell you +it will kill her, Excellenza! Oh, it is infamous! it is not to be +thought of!" He jumped to his feet and spoke in a rapid, excited way. "I +say it is not to be thought of. I appeal—I, Calabressa—to the +honorable the members of the Council: I say that I am ready to be his +<!-- Page 348 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[Pg 348]</a></span>substitute—they cannot deny me—I appeal to the laws of the +Society—"'</p> + +<p>"Calm yourself—calm yourself," said the general; but Calabressa would +not be calm.</p> + +<p>"I will not have my beautiful child have this grief put upon her!—you, +Excellenza, will help my appeal to the Council—they cannot refuse +me—what use am I to anybody or myself? I say that the daughter of my +old friend Natalie shall not have her lover taken from her; it is I, +Calabressa, who claim to be his substitute!"</p> + +<p>"Friend Calabressa, I desire you to sit down and listen. The story is +brief that I have to tell you. This man Brand is chosen by the usual +ballot. The young lady does not know for what duty, of course, but +believes it will cost him his life. She is in trouble; she recollects +your giving her some instructions; what does she do but start off at +once for Naples, to put her head right into the den of the black bear +Tommaso!"</p> + +<p>"Ah, the brave little one! She did not forget Calabressa and the little +map, then?"</p> + +<p>"I have seen her and her mother."</p> + +<p>"Her mother, also? Here, in Naples, now?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Great Heaven! What a fool I was to come through Naples and not to +know—but I was thinking of that little viper."</p> + +<p>"You will now be good enough to listen, my Calabressa."</p> + +<p>"I beg your Excellency's pardon a thousand times."</p> + +<p>"It appears that both mother and daughter are beset with the suspicion +that this duty has been put upon their English friend by unfair means. +At first I said to myself these suspicions were foolish; they now appear +to me more reasonable. You, at all events, are acquainted with the old +story against Ferdinand Lind; you know how he forfeited his life to the +Society; how it was given back to him. You would think it impossible he +would risk such another adventure. Well, perhaps I wrong him; but there +is a possibility; there are powerful reasons, I can gather, why he +should wish to get rid of this Englishman."</p> + +<p>Calabressa said nothing now, but he was greatly excited.</p> + +<p>"We had been urging him about money, Calabressa mio—that I will explain +to you. It has been coming in slowest of all from England, the richest +of the countries, and just when we had so much need. Then, again, there +is a vacancy in the Council, and Lind has a wish that way. What happens? +<!-- Page 349 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[Pg 349]</a></span>He tries to induce the Englishman to take an officership and give us +his fortune; the Englishman refuses; he says then, 'Part from my +daughter, and go to America.' The daughter says, 'If he goes, I follow.' +You perceive, my friend, that if this story is true, and it is +consecutive and minute as I received it, there was a reason for our +colleague Lind to be angry, and to be desirous of making it certain that +this Englishman who had opposed him should not have his daughter."</p> + +<p>"I perceive it well, Excellenza. Meanwhile?"</p> + +<p>"Meanwhile, that is all. Only, when an old friend—when one who has such +claims on our Society as a Berezolyi naturally has—comes and tells you +such a story, you listen with attention and respect. You may believe, or +you may not believe; one prefers not to believe when the matter touches +upon the faith of a colleague who has been trustworthy for many years. +But at the same time, if the Council, being appealed to, and being +anxious above all things that no wrong should be done, were to find an +agent—prudent, silent, cautious—who might be armed with plenary powers +of pardon, for example, supposing there were an accomplice to be +bribed—if the Council were to commission such a one as you, my +Calabressa, to institute inquiries, and perhaps to satisfy those two +appellants that no injustice has been done, you would undertake the task +with diligence, with a sense of responsibility, would you not?"</p> + +<p>"With joy—with a full heart, Excellenza!" Calabressa exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Oh no, not at all—with prudence and disinterestedness; with calmness +and no prejudice; and, above all, with a resolution to conceal from our +friend and colleague Lind that any slight of suspicion is being put upon +him."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you can trust me, Excellenza!" Calabressa said, eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Let me do this for the sake of the sweetheart of my old age—that is +that beautiful-souled little one; and if I cannot bring her peace and +security one way—mind, I go without prejudice—I swear to you I go +without bias—I will harm no one even in intention—but this I say, that +if I fail that way there is another."</p> + +<p>"You have seen the two men, Beratinsky and Reitzei, who were of the +ballot along with Lind and the Englishman. To me they are but names. +Describe them to me."</p> + +<p>"Beratinsky," said Calabressa, promptly, "a bear—surly, pig-headed; +Reitzei, a fop—sinuous, petted."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 350 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[Pg 350]</a></span></p><p>"Which would be the more easily started, for example?" the tall man +said, with a smile.</p> + +<p>"Oh, your Excellency, leave that to me," Calabressa answered. "Give me +no definite instructions: am I not a volunteer?—can I not do as I +please, always with the risk that one may knock me over the head if I am +impertinent?"</p> + +<p>"Well, then, if you leave it to your discretion, friend Calabressa, to +your ingenuity, and your desire to have justice without bias, have you +money?"</p> + +<p>"Not at all, Excellenza."</p> + +<p>"The Secretary Granaglia will communicate with you this evening. You can +start at once?"</p> + +<p>"By the direct train to-morrow morning at seven. Excellenza." Then he +added, "Oh, the devil!"</p> + +<p>"What now?"</p> + +<p>"There was a young fellow, Excellenza, committed the imprudence of +dogging my footsteps this afternoon. I know him. I stopped him and +referred him to the captain of the schooner <i>La Svezia</i>: he was to bring +me the receipt to morrow."</p> + +<p>"Never mind," said the general, laughing; "we will look after him when +he goes on board. Now do you understand, friend Calabressa, the great +delicacy of the mission the Council have intrusted to you? You must be +patient, sure, unbiassed; and if, as I imagine, Lind and you were not +the best of friends at one time in your life, you must forget all that. +You are not going as the avenger of his daughter; you are going as the +minister of justice—only you have power behind you; that you can allow +to be known indirectly. Do you understand?"</p> + +<p>"It is as clear as the noonday skies. Confide in me, Excellenza." The +other rose.</p> + +<p>"Use speed, my Calabressa. Farewell!"</p> + +<p>"One word, Excellenza. If it is not too great a favor, the hotel where +my beautiful Natalushka and her mother are staying?"</p> + +<p>The other gave him the name of the hotel; and Calabressa, saluting him +respectfully, departed, making his way down through the terraces of +fruit-trees under the clear twilight skies.</p> + +<p>Calabressa walked back to Naples, and to the hotel indicated, which was +near the Castello dell' Ovo. No sooner had the hotel porter opened for +him the big swinging doors than he recollected that he did not know for +whom he ought to ask; but at this moment Natalie came along the +corridor, dressed and ready to go out.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 351 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[Pg 351]</a></span></p><p>"My little daughter!" he exclaimed, taking her by both hands, "did not +I say you would soon find me when there was need?"</p> + +<p>"Will you come up-stairs and see my mother, Signor Calabressa?" said +she. "You know why she and I are together now?—my grandfather is dead."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I will go and see your mother," said he, after a second: she did +not notice the strange expression of his face during that brief +hesitation.</p> + +<p>There was a small sitting-room between the two bedrooms; Natalie +conducted him into it, and went into the adjoining chamber for her +mother. A minute after these two friends and companions of former days +met. They held each other's hand in silence for a brief time.</p> + +<p>"My hair was not so gray when you last saw me," the worn-faced woman +said, at length, with a smile.</p> + +<p>Calabressa could not speak at all.</p> + +<p>"Mother," the girl said, to break in on this painful embarrassment, "you +have not seen Signor Calabressa for so long a time. Will he not stay and +dine with us? the <i>table-d'hote</i>, is at half-past six."</p> + +<p>"Not the <i>table-d'hote</i>, my little daughter," Calabressa said. "But if +one were permitted to remain here, for example—"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, certainly."</p> + +<p>"There are many things I wish to speak about; and so little time. +To-morrow morning I start for England."</p> + +<p>"For England?"</p> + +<p>"Most certainly, little daughter. And you have a message, perhaps, for +me to carry? Oh, you may let it be cheerful," he said, with his usual +gay optimism. "I tell you—I myself, and I do not boast—let it be +cheerful! What did I say to you? You are in trouble; I said to you, +count upon having friends!"</p> + +<p>Calabressa did stay; and they had a kind of meal in this room; and there +was a great deal to talk over between the two old friends. But on all +matters referring to the moment he preserved a resolute silence. He was +not going to talk at the very outset. He was going to England—that was +all.</p> + +<p>But as he was bidding good-bye to Natalie, he drew her a step or two +into the passage.</p> + +<p>"Little child," said he, in a low voice, "your mother is suffering +because of your sorrow. It is needless. I assure you all will be well: +have I spoken in vain before? It is not for one bearing the name that +you have to despair."</p> + +<p>"Good-bye, then, Signor Calabressa."</p> + +<p>"<i>Au revoir</i>, child: is not that better?"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><!-- Page 352 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[Pg 352]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_L" id="CHAPTER_L"></a>CHAPTER L.</h2> + + +<h3>A WEAK BROTHER.</h3> + +<p>George Brand was sitting alone in these rooms of his, the lamps lit, the +table near him covered with papers. He had just parted with two +visitors—Molyneux and a certain learned gentleman attached to Owens +College—who had come to receive his final plans and hints as to what +still lay before them in the north. On leaving, the fresh-colored, +brisk-voiced Molyneux had said to him,</p> + +<p>"Well, Mr. Brand, seeing you so eager about what has to be done up +there, one might wonder at your leaving us and going off pleasuring. But +no matter; a man must have his holiday; so I wish you a pleasant +journey, and we'll do our best till you come back."</p> + +<p>So that also was settled. In fact, he had brought all his affairs up to +a point that would enable him to start at any moment. But about Natalie? +He had not heard from her through any channel whatever. He had not the +least idea whither she had gone. Moreover, he gathered from Reitzei that +her father—who, in Reitzei's opinion, could at once have discovered +where she was—refused to trouble himself in the matter, and, indeed, +would not permit her name to be mentioned in his presence.</p> + +<p>He leaned back in his chair with a sigh. Of what value to him now were +these carefully calculated suggestions about districts, centres, +conveners, and what not? And yet he had appeared deeply interested while +his two visitors were present. For the time being the old eagerness had +stirred him; the pride he had taken in his own work. But now that was +passed from him; he had relinquished his stewardship; and as he absently +gazed out into the black night before him, his thoughts drifted far +away. He was startled from his reverie by some one knocking at the door. +Immediately after Gathorne Edwards entered.</p> + +<p>"Waters said I should find you alone," said the tall, pale, blue-eyed +student. "I have come to you about Kirski."</p> + +<p>"Sit down. Well?"</p> + +<p>"It's a bad business," he said, taking a chair, and looking rather +gloomy and uncomfortable. "He has taken to drink badly. I have been to +him, talked to him, but I have no influence over him, apparently. I +thought perhaps you might do something with him."</p> + +<p>"Why, I cannot even speak to him!"</p> + +<p><!-- Page 353 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[Pg 353]</a></span></p><p>"Oh, he is accustomed to make much out of a few words; and I would go +with you."</p> + +<p>"But what is the occasion of all this? How can he have taken to drink in +so short a time?"</p> + +<p>"A man can drink himself into a pretty queer state in a very short time +when he sets his mind to it," Edwards said. "He has given up his work +altogether, and is steadily boozing away the little savings he had made. +He has gone back to his blood and kill, too; wants some one to go with +him to murder that fellow out in Russia who first of all took his wife, +and then beat him and set dogs on him. The fact is, Calabressa's cure +has gone all to bits."</p> + +<p>"It is a pity. The unfortunate wretch has had enough trouble. But what +is the cause of it?"</p> + +<p>"It is rather difficult to explain," said Edwards with some +embarrassment. "One can only guess, for his brain is muddled, and he +maunders. You know Calabressa's flowery, poetical interpretation. It was +Miss Lind, in fact, who had worked a miracle. Well, there was something +in it. She was kind to him, after he had been cuffed about Europe, and a +sort of passion of gratitude took possession of him. Then he was led to +believe at that time that—that he might be of service to her or her +friends, and he gave up his projects of revenge altogether—he was ready +for any sacrifice—and, in fact, there was a project—" Edwards glanced +at his companion; but Brand happened at that moment to be looking out of +the window.</p> + +<p>"Well, you see, all that fell through; and he had to come back to +England disappointed; then there was no Calabressa to keep him up to his +resolutions: besides that, he found out—how, I do not know—that Miss +Lind had left London."</p> + +<p>"Oh, he found that out?"</p> + +<p>"Apparently. And he says he is of no further use to anybody; and all he +wants is to kill the man Michaieloff, and then make an end of himself."</p> + +<p>Brand rose at once.</p> + +<p>"We must go and see the unfortunate devil, Edwards. His brain never was +steady, you know, and I suppose even two or three days' hard drinking +has made him wild again. And just as I had prepared a little surprise +for him!"</p> + +<p>"What?" Edwards asked, as he opened the door.</p> + +<p>"I have made him a little bequest that would have produced him about +twenty pounds a year, to pay his rent. It will be no kindness to give it +to him until we see him straight again."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 354 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[Pg 354]</a></span></p><p>But Edwards pushed the door to again, and said in a low voice,</p> + +<p>"Of course, Mr. Brand, you must know of the Zaccatelli affair?"</p> + +<p>Brand regarded him, and said, calmly,</p> + +<p>"I do. There are five men in England who know of it; you and I are two +of them."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Edwards, eagerly, "if such a thing were determined on, +wouldn't it have been better to let this poor wretch do it? He would +have gloried in it; he had the enthusiasm of the martyr just then; he +thought he was to be allowed to do something that would make Miss Lind +and her friends forever grateful to him."</p> + +<p>"And who put it into his head that Miss Lind knew anything about +it?—Calabressa, I suppose."</p> + +<p>Edwards colored slightly.</p> + +<p>"Well, yes—"</p> + +<p>"And it was Calabressa who intrusted such a secret as that to a +maniac—"</p> + +<p>"Pardon me, Kirski never knew specifically what lay before him; but he +was ready for anything. For my own part, I was heartily glad when they +sent him back to England. I did not wish to have any hand in such a +business, however indirectly; and, indeed, I hope they have abandoned +the whole project by this time."</p> + +<p>"It might be wiser, certainly," said Brand, with an indifferent air.</p> + +<p>"If they go on with it, it will make a fearful noise in Europe," said +Edwards, contemplatively. "The assassination of a cardinal! Well, his +life has been scandalous enough—but still, his death, in such a way—"</p> + +<p>"It will horrify people, will it not?" Brand said, +<ins class="correction" title="Printed: calmly; and">calmly; "and</ins> his +murderer will be execrated and howled at throughout Europe, no doubt!"</p> + +<p>"Well, yes; you see, who is to know the motives?"</p> + +<p>"There won't be a single person to say a single word for him," said +Brand, absently. "It is an enviable fate, isn't it, for some wretched +mortal? No matter, Edwards; we will go and look up this fellow Kirski +now."</p> + +<p>They went out into the night—it was cold and drizzling—and made their +way up into Soho. They knocked at the door of a shabby-looking house; +and Kirski's landlady made her appearance. She was very angry when his +name was mentioned; of course he was not at home; they would find him in +some public-house or other—the animal!</p> + +<p><!-- Page 355 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[Pg 355]</a></span></p><p>"But he pays his rent, doesn't he?" Brand remonstrated.</p> + +<p>Oh yes, he paid his rent. But she didn't like a wild beast in the house. +It was decent lodgings she kept; not a Wombwell's Menagerie.</p> + +<p>"I am sure he gives you no trouble, ma'am," said Edwards, who had seen +something of the meek and submissive way the Russian conducted himself +in his lodgings.</p> + +<p>This she admitted, but promptly asked how she was to know she mightn't +have her throat cut some night? And what was the use of her talking to +him, when he didn't know two words of a Christian language?</p> + +<p>They gathered from this that the good woman had been lecturing her +docile lodger, and had been seriously hurt because of his inattention. +However, she at last consented to give them the name of the particular +public-house in which he was likely to be found, and they again set off +in quest of him.</p> + +<p>They found him easily. He was seated in a corner of the crowded and +reeking bar-room by himself, nursing a glass of gin-and-water with his +two trembling hands. When they entered, he looked up and regarded them +with bleared, sunken eyes, evidently recognized them, and then turned +away sullenly.</p> + +<p>"Tell him I am not come to bully him," said Brand quickly. "Tell him I +am come about some work. I want a cabinet made by a first-class workman +like himself."</p> + +<p>Edwards went forward and put his hand on the man's shoulder and spoke to +him for some time; then he turned to Brand.</p> + +<p>"He says, 'No use; no use.' He cannot work any more. They won't give him +help to kill Pavel Michaieloff. He wishes to die."</p> + +<p>"Ask him, then, what the young lady who gave him her portrait will think +of him if she hears he is in this condition. Ask him how he has dared to +bring her portrait into a place like this."</p> + +<p>When this was conveyed to Kirski, he seemed to arouse himself somewhat; +he even talked eagerly for a few seconds; then he turned away again, as +if he did not wish to be seen.</p> + +<p>"He says," Edwards continued, "that he has not, that he would not bring +that portrait into any such place. He was afraid it might be found—it +might be taken from him. He made a small casket of oak, carved by his +own hands, and lined it with zinc; he put the photograph in it, and hid +himself in the trees of St. James's Park—at least, I imagine that St. +James's Park is what he means—at night. Then he buried it there. He +knows the place. When he has killed Michaieloff he will come back and +dig it up."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 356 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[Pg 356]</a></span></p><p>"The poor devil—his brain is certainly going, drink or no drink. What +is to be done with him, Edwards?"</p> + +<p>"He says the young lady has gone away. He cares for nothing. He is of no +use. He despairs of getting enough money to take him back to Russia."</p> + +<p>After a great deal of persuasion, however, they got him to leave the +public-house with them and return to his lodgings. They got him some tea +and some bread-and-butter, and made him swallow both. Then Edwards, +under his friend's instructions, proceeded to impress on Kirski that the +young lady was only away from London for a short time: that she would be +greatly distressed if she were to hear he had been misconducting +himself; that, if he returned to his work on the following morning, he +would find that his master would overlook his absence; and that finally, +he was to abandon his foolish notions about going to Russia, for he +would find no one to assist him; whereas, on the other hand, if he went +about proclaiming that he was about to commit a crime, he would be taken +by the police and shut up. All this, and a great deal more, they tried +to impress on him; and Edwards promised to call the next evening and see +how he was getting on.</p> + +<p>It was late when Brand and Edwards again issued out into the wet night; +and Edwards, having promised to post a line to Kirski's employers, so +that they should get it in the morning, said good-bye, and went off to +his own lodgings. Brand walked slowly home through the muddy streets. He +preferred the glare and the noise to the solitude of his own rooms. He +even stood aimlessly to watch a theatre come out; the people seemed so +careless and joyous—calling to each other—making feeble jokes—passing +away under their umbrellas into the wet and shining darkness.</p> + +<p>But at length, without any definite intention, he found himself at the +foot of the little thoroughfare in which he lived; and he was about to +open the door with his latch-key when out of the dusk beyond there +stepped forth a tall figure. He was startled, it is true, by the +apparition of this tall, white-haired man in the voluminous blue cloak, +the upturned hood of which half concealed his face, and he turned with a +sort of instinct of anger to face him.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur mon frere, you have arrived at last!" said the stranger, and +instantly he recognized in the pronunciation of the French the voice of +Calabressa.</p> + +<p>"What!" he said; "Calabressa?"</p> + +<p>The other put a finger on his arm.</p> + +<p>"Hush!" he said. "It is a great secret, my being here; <!-- Page 357 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[Pg 357]</a></span>I confide in +you. I would not wait in your rooms—my faith no! for I said to myself, +'What if he brings home friends who will know me, who will ask what the +devil Calabressa is doing in this country.'"</p> + +<p>Brand had withdrawn his hand from the lock.</p> + +<p>"Calabressa," he said, quickly, "you, if anybody knows, must know where +Natalie and her mother are. Tell me!"</p> + +<p>"I will directly; but may I point out to you, my dear Monsieur Brand, +that it rains—that we might go inside? Oh yes, certainly, I will tell +you when we can say a word in secret, in comfort. But this devil of a +climate! What should I have done if I had not bought myself this cloak +in Paris? In Paris it was cold and wet enough; but one had nothing like +what you have here. Sapristi! my fingers are frozen."</p> + +<p>Brand hurried him up-stairs, put him into an easy-chair, and stirred up +the fire.</p> + +<p>"Now," said he, impatiently—"now, my dear Calabressa, your news!"</p> + +<p>Calabressa pulled out a letter.</p> + +<p>"The news—voila!"</p> + +<p>Brand tore open the envelope; these were the contents:</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"Dearest,—This is to adjure you not to leave England for the +present—not till you hear from me—or until we return. Have patience, +and hope. You are not forgotten. My mother sends you her blessing.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Your Betrothed."</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"But there is no address!" he exclaimed. "Where are they?"</p> + +<p>"Where are they? It is no secret, do you see? They are in Naples."</p> + +<p>"In Naples!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I assure you, my dear friend, it is a noble heart, a brave heart, +that loves you. Many a day ago I said to her, 'Little child, when you +are in trouble, go to friends who will welcome you; say you are the +daughter of Natalie Berezolyi; say to them that Calabressa sent you.' +And you thought she was in no trouble! Ah, did she not tell me of the +pretty home you had got for the poor mother who is my old friend? did +she not tell me how you thought they were to be comfortable there, and +take no heed of anything else? But you were mistaken. You did not know +her. She said,'My betrothed is in danger: I will take Calabressa at his +word: before any one can hinder me, or interfere, I will go and appeal, +in the name of my family, in the name of myself!' Ah, the brave child!"</p> + +<p><!-- Page 358 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[Pg 358]</a></span></p><p>"But appeal to whom?" said Brand, breathlessly.</p> + +<p>"To the Council, my friend!" said Calabressa with exultation.</p> + +<p>"But gracious heavens!" Brand cried, with his hand nervously clutching +the arm of his chair, "is the secret betrayed, then? Do they think I +will shelter myself behind a woman?"</p> + +<p>"She could betray no secret," Calabressa said, triumphantly, "she +herself not knowing it, do you not perceive? But she could speak +bravely!"</p> + +<p>"And the result?"</p> + +<p>"Who knows what that may be? In the mean time, this is the result—I am +here!"</p> + +<p>At another moment this assumption of dignity would have been ludicrous; +but Brand took no heed of the manner of his companion; his heart was +beating wildly. And even when his reason forced him to see how little he +could expect from this intervention—when he remembered what a decree of +the Council was, and how irrevocable the doom he had himself +accepted—still the thought uppermost in his mind was not of his own +safety or danger, but rather of her love and devotion, her resolve to +rescue him, her quick and generous impulse that knew nothing of fear. He +pictured her to himself in Naples, calling upon this nameless and secret +power, that every man around him dreaded, to reverse its decision! And +then the audacity of her bidding him hope! He could not hope; he knew +more than she did. But his heart was full of love and of gratitude as he +thought of her.</p> + +<p>"My dear friend," said Calabressa, lowering his voice, "my errand is one +of great secrecy. I have a commission which I cannot altogether explain +to you. But in the mean time you will be so good as to give me—<i>in +extense</i>, with every particular—the little history of how you were +appointed to—to undertake a certain duty."</p> + +<p>"Unfortunately, I cannot," Brand said, calmly; "these are things one is +not permitted to talk about."</p> + +<p>"But I must insist on it, my dear friend."</p> + +<p>"Then I must insist on refusing you."</p> + +<p>"You are trustworthy. No matter: here is something which I think will +remove your suspicions, my good friend—or shall we not rather say your +scruples?"</p> + +<p>He took from his pocket-book a card, and placed it somewhat +ostentatiously on the table. Brand examined it, and then stared at +Calabressa in surprise.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 359 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[Pg 359]</a></span></p><p>"You come with the authority of the Council?"</p> + +<p>"By the goodness of Heaven," Calabressa exclaimed with a laugh, "you +have arrived at the truth this time!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LI" id="CHAPTER_LI"></a>CHAPTER LI.</h2> + +<h3>THE CONJURER.</h3> + + +<p>There was no mistaking the fact that Calabressa had come armed with +ample authority from the Council, and yet it was with a strange +reluctance that Brand forced himself to answer the questions that +Calabressa proceeded to put to him. He had already accepted his doom. +The bitterness of it was over. He would rather have let the past be +forgotten altogether, and himself go forward blindly to the appointed +end. Why those needless explanations and admissions?</p> + +<p>Moreover, Calabressa's questions, which had been thought over during +long railway journeys, were exceedingly crafty. They touched here and +there on certain small points, as if he were building up for himself a +story. But at last Brand said, by way of protest,</p> + +<p>"Look here, Calabressa. I see you are empowered to ask me any questions +you like—and I am quite willing to answer—about the business of the +Council. But really, don't you see, I would rather not speak of private +matters. What can the Council want to know about Natalie Lind? Leave her +out of it, like a good fellow."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, my dear Monsieur Brand," said Calabressa, with a smile, "leave +her out of it, truly, when she has gone to the Council; when the Council +have said, 'Child, you have not appealed to us for nothing;' when it is +through her that I have travelled all through the cold and wet, and am +now sitting here. Remember this, my friend, that the beautiful +Natalushka is now a—what do you call it?—a <i>ward</i>" (Calabressa put +this word in English into the midst of his odd French), "and a <i>ward</i> of +a sufficiently powerful court, I can assure you, monsieur! Therefore, I +say, I cannot leave the beautiful child out. She is of importance to me; +why am I here otherwise? Be considerate, my friend; it is not +impertinence; it is not curiosity."</p> + +<p>Then he proceeded with his task; getting, in a roundabout, cunning, +shrewd way, at a pretty fair version of what <!-- Page 360 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[Pg 360]</a></span>had occurred. And he was +exceedingly circumspect. He endeavored, by all sorts of circumlocutions, +to hide from Brand the real drift of his inquiry. He would betray +suspicion of no one. His manner was calm, patient, almost indifferent. +All this time Brand's thoughts were far away. He was speaking to +Calabressa, but he was thinking of Naples.</p> + +<p>But when they came to Brand's brief description of what took place in +Lisle Street on the night of the casting of the lot, Calabressa became +greatly excited, though he strove to appear perfectly calm.</p> + +<p>"You are sure," he said, quickly, "that was precisely what happened?"</p> + +<p>"As far as I know," said Brand, carelessly. "But why go into it? If I do +not complain, why should any one else?"</p> + +<p>"Did I say that any one complained?" observed the astute Calabressa.</p> + +<p>"Then why should any one wish to interfere? I am satisfied. You do not +mean to say, Calabressa, that any one over there thinks that I am +anxious to back out of what I have undertaken—that I am going down on +my knees and begging to be let off? Well, at all events, Natalie does +not think that," he added, as if it did not matter much what any other +thought.</p> + +<p>Calabressa was silent; but his eyes were eager and bright, and he was +quickly tapping the palm of his left hand with the forefinger of the +right. Then he regarded Brand with a sharp, inquisitive look. Then he +jumped to his feet.</p> + +<p>"Good-night, my friend," he said, hurriedly.</p> + +<p>But Brand rose also, and sought to detain him.</p> + +<p>"No, no, my good Calabressa, you are not going yet; you have kept me +talking for your amusement; now it is your turn. You have not yet told +me about Natalie and her mother."</p> + +<p>"They are well—they are indeed well, I <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: Extra "," deleted from the original text"> +assure</ins> you," said Calabressa, uneasily. He was clearly anxious to get away. By +this time he had got hold of his cloak and swung it round his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Calabressa, sit down, and tell me something about Natalie. What made +her undertake such a journey? Is she troubled? Is she sad? I thought her +life was full of interest now, her mother being with her."</p> + +<p>Calabressa had got his cap, and had opened the door.</p> + +<p>"Another time, dear Monsieur Brand, I will sit down and <!-- Page 361 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[Pg 361]</a></span>tell you all +about the beautiful, brave child, and my old friend her mother. Yes, +yes—another time—to-morrow—next day. At present one is overwhelmed +with affairs, do you see?"</p> + +<p>So saying, he forced Brand to shake hands with him, and went out, +shutting the door behind him.</p> + +<p>But no sooner had he got into the street than the eager, talkative, +impulsive nature of the man, so long confined, broke loose. He took no +heed that it was raining hard. He walked fast; he talked aloud to +himself in his native tongue, in broken interjectional phrases; +occasionally he made use of violent gestures, which were not lessened in +their effect by the swaying cape of his cloak.</p> + +<p>"Ah, those English—those English!" he was excitedly saying—"such +children!—blue, clear eyes that see nothing—the devil! why should they +meddle in such affairs? To play at such a game!—fool's mate; scholar's +mate; asses and idiots' mate—they have scarcely got a pawn out, and +they are wondering what they will do, when whizz! along comes the queen, +and she and the bishop have finished all the fine combinations before +they were ever begun! And you, you others, imps of hell, to play that +old foolish game again! But take care, my friends, take care; there is +one watching you, one waiting for you, who does not speak, but who +strikes! Ah, it is a pretty game; you, you sullen brute; you, you fop +and dandy; but when you are sitting silent round the board, behold a +dagger flashes down and quivers into the wood! No wonder your eyes burn! +you do not know whence it has come? But the steel-blade quivers; is it a +warning?"</p> + +<p>He laughed aloud, but there were still omnibuses and cabs in the street; +so he was not heard. Indeed, the people who were on the pavement were +hurrying past to get out of the rain, and took no notice of the old +albino in the voluminous cloak.</p> + +<p>"Natalushka," said he, quite as if he were addressing some one before +him, "do you know that I am trudging through the mud of this infernal +city all for you? And you, little sybarite, are among the fine ladies of +the reading-room at the hotel, and listening to music, and the air all +scented around you. Never mind; if only I had a little bird that could +fly to you with a message—ah, would you not have pleasant dreams +to-night? Did I not tell you to rely on Calabressa? He chatters to you; +he tries to amuse you; but he is not always Policinella. No, not always +Policinella: sometimes he is silent and cunning; sometimes—what do you +think?<!-- Page 362 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[Pg 362]</a></span>—he is a conjurer. Oh yes, you are not seen, you are not heard; +but when you have them round the board, whirr! comes the gleaming blade +and quivers in the wood! You look round; the guilty one shakes with the +palsy; his wits go; his startled tongue confesses. Then you laugh; you +say, 'That is well done;' you say, 'Were they wrong in giving this +affair to Calabressa?'"</p> + +<p>Now, whether it was that his rapid walking helped to relieve him of this +over-excitement, or whether it was that the soaking rain began to make +him uncomfortable, he was much more staid in demeanor when he got up to +the little lane in Oxford Street where the Culturverein held its +meetings. Of course, he did not knock and demand admission. He stopped +some way down the street, on the other side, where he found shelter from +the rain in a door-way, and whence he could readily observe any one +coming out from the hall of the Verein. Then he succeeded in lighting a +cigarette.</p> + +<p>It was a miserable business, this waiting in the cold, damp night air; +but sometimes he kept thinking of how he would approach Reitzei in the +expected interview; and sometimes he thought of Natalie; and again, with +his chilled and dripping fingers he would manage to light a cigarette. +Again and again the door of the hall was opened, and this or the other +figure came out from the glare of the gas into the dark street; but so +far no Reitzei. It was now nearly one in the morning.</p> + +<p>Finally, about a quarter past one, the last batch of boon companions +came out, and the lights within were extinguished. Calabressa followed +this gay company, who were laughing and joking despite the rain, for a +short way; but it was clear that neither Beratinsky nor Reitzei was +among them. Then he turned, and made his way to his own lodgings, where +he arrived tired, soaked through, but not apparently disheartened.</p> + +<p>Next morning he was up betimes, and at a fairly early hour walked along +to Coventry Street, where he took up his station at the east corner of +Rupert Street, so that he could see any one going westward, himself +unseen. Here he was more successful. He had not been there ten minutes +when Reitzei passed. Calabressa hastened after him, overtook him, and +tapped him on the shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Calabressa!" said Reitzei, surprised, but in noway disconcerted.</p> + +<p>"I wish to speak with you," said Calabressa, himself a little agitated, +though he did not show it.</p> + +<p>"Certainly; come along. Mr. Lind will arrive soon."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 363 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[Pg 363]</a></span></p><p>"No, alone. I wish to speak to you alone."</p> + +<p>Calabressa looked around. The only place of shelter he saw was a rather +shabby restaurant, chiefly used as a supper-room, and at this moment +having the appearance of not being yet woke up. Reitzei was in a +compliant mood. He suffered himself to be conducted into this place, to +the astonishment of one or two unwashed-looking waiters, who were seated +and reading the previous evening's papers. Calabressa and Reitzei sat +down at one of the small tables; the former ordered some coffee, the +latter a bottle of soda-water.</p> + +<p>By this time Calabressa had collected himself for the part he was about +to play.</p> + +<p>"Well, my friend," said he, cheerfully, "what news? When is Europe to +hear the fate of the Cardinal?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know; I know very little about it," said Reitzei, glancing at +him rather suspiciously.</p> + +<p>"It is a terrible business," said Calabressa, reflectively, "a decree of +the Council. You would think that one so powerful, so well protected, +would be able to escape, would you not? But he himself knows better. He +knows he is as powerless as you might be, for example, or myself."</p> + +<p>"Oh, as for that," said Reitzei, boldly, "he knows he has deserved it: +what more? He has had his little fling, now comes the settlement of the +score."</p> + +<p>"And I hear that our friend Brand is to be the instrument of justice: +how strange! He has not been so long with us."</p> + +<p>"That is Mr. Lind's affair: it has nothing to do with me," said Reitzei, +shortly.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Calabressa, toying with his coffee-cup. "I hope I shall +never be tempted to do anything that might lead the Council to condemn +me. Fancy such a life; every moment expecting some one to step up behind +you with a knife or a pistol, and the end sure! I would take Provana's +plan. The poor devil; as soon as he heard he had been condemned he could +not bear living. He never thought of escape: a few big stones in the +pockets of his coat, and over he slips into the Arno. And Mesentskoff: +you remember him? His only notion of escape was to give himself up to +the police—twenty-five years in the mines. I think Provana's plan was +better."</p> + +<p>Reitzei became a little uneasy, or perhaps only impatient.</p> + +<p>"Well, Calabressa," he said, "one must be getting along to one's +affairs—"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, yes, truly," Calabressa said. "I only wished to know a little +more about the Cardinal. You see he cannot <!-- Page 364 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[Pg 364]</a></span>give himself up like +Mesentskoff, though he might confess to a hundred worse things than the +Russian ever did. Provana—well, you know the Society has always been +inexorable with regard to its own officers: and rightly, too, Reitzei, +is it not so? If one finds malversation of justice among those in a high +grade, should not the punishment be exemplary? The higher the power, the +higher the responsibility. You, for example, are much too shrewd a man +to risk your life by taking any advantage of your position as one of the +officers—"</p> + +<p>"I don't understand you, Calabressa," the other said, somewhat hotly.</p> + +<p>"I only meant to say," Calabressa observed, carelessly, "that the +punishment for malversation of justice on the part of an officer is so +terrible, so swift, and so sure, that no one but a madman would think of +running the risk—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but what has that to do with me?" Reitzei said, angrily.</p> + +<p>"Nothing, my dear friend, nothing," said Calabressa, soothingly. "But +now, about this selection of Mr. Brand—"</p> + +<p>Reitzei turned rather pale for a second; but said instantly, and with +apparent anger,</p> + +<p>"I tell you that is none of my business. That is Mr. Lind's business. +What have I to do with it?"</p> + +<p>"Do not be so impatient, my friend," said Calabressa, looking at his +coffee. "We will say that, as usual, there was a ballot. All quite fair. +No man wishes to avoid his duty. It is the simplest thing in the world +to mark one of your pieces of paper with a red mark: whoever receives +the marked paper undertakes the commission. All is quite fair, I say. +Only you know, I dare say, the common, the pitiful trick of the conjurer +who throws a pack of cards on the table, backs up. You take one, look at +it privately, return it, and the cards are shuffled. Without lifting the +cards at all he tells you that the one you selected was the eight of +diamonds: why? It is no miracle: all the cards are eight of diamonds; +though you, you poor innocent, do not know that. It is a wretched +trick," added Calabressa, coolly.</p> + +<p>Reitzei drank off the remainder of his soda-water at a gulp. He stared +at Calabressa in silence, afraid to speak.</p> + +<p>"My dear friend Reitzei," said Calabressa, at length raising his eyes +and fixing them on his companion, "you could not be so insane as to play +any trick like that?—having four pieces of paper, for example, all +marked red, the marks under the paper? You would not enter into any such +conspir<!-- Page 365 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[Pg 365]</a></span>acy, for you know, friend Reitzei, that the punishment +is—death!"</p> + +<p>The man had turned a ghastly gray-green color. He was apparently choking +with thirst, though he had just finished the soda-water. He could not +speak.</p> + +<p>Calabressa calmly waited for him; but in his heart he was saying +exultingly, "<i>Ha! the dagger quivers in the board: his eyes are starting +from his head; is it Calabressa or Cagliostro that has paralyzed him?</i>"</p> + +<p>At length the wretched creature opposite him gasped out,</p> + +<p>"Beratinsky—"</p> + +<p>But he could say no more. He motioned to a waiter to bring him some +soda-water.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Beratinsky?" said Calabressa, calmly regarding the livid face.</p> + +<p>"—has betrayed us!" he said, with trembling lips. In fact, there was no +fight in him at all, no angry repudiation; he was helpless with this +sudden bewilderment of fear.</p> + +<p>"Not quite," said Calabressa; and he now spoke in a low, eager voice. +"It is for you to save yourself by forestalling him. It is your one +chance; otherwise the decree; and good-bye to this world for you! +See—look at this card—I say it is your only chance, friend +Reitzei—for I am empowered by the Council to promise you, or +Beratinsky, or any one, a free pardon on confession. Oh, I assure you +the truth is clear: has not one eyes? You, poor devil, you cannot speak: +shall I go to Beratinsky and see whether he can speak?"</p> + +<p>"What must I do—what must I do?" the other gasped, in abject terror. +Calabressa, regarding this exhibition of cowardice, could not help +wondering how Lind had allowed such a creature to associate with him.</p> + +<p>Then Calabressa, sure of victory, began to breathe more freely. He +assumed a lofty air.</p> + +<p>"Trust in me, friend Reitzei. I will instruct you. If you can persuade +the Council of the truth of your story, I promise you they will absolve +you from the operations of a certain Clause which you know of. Meanwhile +you will come to my lodgings and write a line to Lind, excusing yourself +for the day; then this evening I dare say it will be convenient for you +to start for Naples. Oh, I assure you, you owe me thanks: you did not +know the danger you were in; hereafter you will say, 'Well, it was no +other than Calabressa who pulled me out of that quagmire.'"</p> + +<p><!-- Page 366 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[Pg 366]</a></span></p><p>A few minutes thereafter Calabressa was in a telegraph-office, and this +was the message he despatched:</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"Colonna, London: to Bartolotti, Vicolo Isotta, No. 15, Naples. Ridotto +will arrive immediately, colors down. Send orders for Luigi and Bassano +to follow."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"It is a bold stroke," he was saying to himself, as he left the office, +"but I have run some risks in my time. What is one more or less?"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LII" id="CHAPTER_LII"></a>CHAPTER LII.</h2> + +<h3>FIAT JUSTITIA.</h3> + + +<p>This scheme of Calabressa's had been so rapidly conceived and put in +execution, that he had had no time to think of its possible or certain +consequences, in the event of his being successful. His immediate and +sole anxiety was to make sure of his captive. There was always the +chance that a frightened and feeble creature like Reitzei might double +back; he might fly to Lind and Beratinsky, and seek security in a new +compact; for who could prove any thing if the three were to maintain +their innocence? However, as Calabressa shrewdly perceived, Reitzei was +in the dark as to how much the Council knew already. Moreover, he had +his suspicions of Beratinsky. If there was to be a betrayal, he was +clearly resolved to have the benefit of it. Nevertheless, Calabressa did +not lose sight of him for a moment. He took him to his, Calabressa's +lodgings; kept assuring him that he ought to be very grateful for being +thus allowed to escape; got him to write and despatch a note to Lind, +excusing himself for that day and the next, and then proceeded to give +him instructions as to what he should do in Naples. These instructions, +by-the-way, were entirely unnecessary; it is no part of Calabressa's +plan to allow Reitzei to arrive in Naples alone.</p> + +<p>After a mid-day meal, Calabressa and Reitzei walked up to the lodgings +of the latter, where he got a few travelling things put together. +By-and-by they went to the railway station, Calabressa suggesting that +it was better for Reitzei to get away from London as soon as possible. +The old albino saw his companion take his seat in the train for Dover, +and then turned away and re-entered the busy world of the London +streets.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 367 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[Pg 367]</a></span></p><p>The day was fine after the rain; the pavements were white and dry; he +kept in the sunlight for the sake of the warmth; but he had not much +attention for the sights and sounds around him. Now that this sudden +scheme promised to be entirely successful, he could consider the +probable consequences of that success; and, as usual, his first thought +was about Natalie.</p> + +<p>"Poor child—poor child!" he said to himself, rather sadly. "How could +she tell how this would end? If she saves the life of her lover, it is +at the cost of the life of her father. The poor child!—must misfortune +meet her whichever way she turns?"</p> + +<p>And then, too, some touch of compunction or even remorse entered into +his own bosom. He had been so eager in the pursuit? he had been so +anxious to acquit himself to the satisfaction of the Council, that he +had scarcely remembered that his success would almost certainly involve +the sacrifice of one who was at least an old colleague. Ferdinand Lind +and Calabressa had never been the very best of friends; during one +period, indeed, they had been rivals; but that had been forgotten in the +course of years, and what Calabressa now remembered was that Lind and he +had at least been companions in the old days.</p> + +<p>"Seventeen years ago," he was thinking, "he forfeited his life to the +Society, and they gave it back to him. They will not pardon him this +time. And who is to take the news to Natalie and the beautiful brave +child? Ah, what will she say? My God, is there no happiness for any one +in this world?"</p> + +<p>He was greatly distressed; but in his distress he became desperate. He +would not look that way at all. He boldly justified himself for what he +had done, and strove to regard it with satisfaction. What if both Lind +and Beratinsky were to suffer; had they not merited any punishment that +might befall them? Had they not compassed the destruction of an innocent +man? Would it have been better, then, that George Brand should have +become the victim of an infamous conspiracy? <i>Fiat justitia!</i>—no matter +at what cost. Natalie must face the truth. Better that the guilty should +suffer than the innocent. And he, Calabressa, for one, was not going to +shirk any responsibility for what might happen. He had obeyed the orders +of the Council. He had done his duty: that was enough.</p> + +<p>He forced himself not to think of Natalie, and of the dismay and horror +with which she would learn of one of the consequences of her appeal. +This was a matter between men—to<!-- Page 368 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[Pg 368]</a></span> be settled by men: if the consciences +of women were tender, it could not be helped. Calabressa walked faster +and faster, as it he were trying to get away from something that +followed and annoyed him. He pretended to himself that he was deeply +interested in a shop-window here or there; occasionally he whistled; he +sung "Vado a Napoli in barchetta" with forced gayety; he twisted his +long white moustache, and then he made his way down to Brand's rooms.</p> + +<p>Here he was also very gay.</p> + +<p>"Now, my dear Monsieur Brand, to-day I have idleness; to-day I will talk +to you; yesterday I could not."</p> + +<p>"Unfortunately," said Brand, "our positions are reversed now, for here +is a letter from Lind wanting me to go up to Lisle Street. It seems +Reitzei has had to go off into the country, leaving a lot of +correspondence—"</p> + +<p>"You are, then, on good terms with Lind?" Calabressa interposed, +quickly.</p> + +<p>"Yes; why not?" said Brand, with a stare.</p> + +<p>"I, also—I say, why not? It is excellent. Then you have no time for my +chatter?" said Calabressa, carelessly regarding the open letter.</p> + +<p>"At least you can tell me something about Natalie and her mother. Are +they well? What hotel are they at?"</p> + +<p>Calabressa laughed.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, my friend Monsieur Brand, you say, 'Are they well?' What you +mean is, 'What has taken them to Naples?' <i>Bien</i>, you are right to +wonder; you will not have to wonder long. A little patience; you will +hear something; do not be surprised. And you have no message, for +example, by way of reply to the letter I brought you?"</p> + +<p>"You are returning to Naples, then?"</p> + +<p>"To-night. I will take a message for you: if you have no time now, send +it to me at Charing Cross. Meanwhile, I take my leave."</p> + +<p>Calabressa rose, but was persuaded to resume his seat.</p> + +<p>"I see," said he, again laughing, "that you have a little time to hear +about the two wanderers. Oh, they are in a good hotel, I assure you; +pretty rooms; you look over to Capri; quite near you the Castello dell' +Ovo; and underneath your windows the waves—a charming view! And the +little <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: "Nataluska" in the original text"> +Natalushka</ins>, she has not lost her +spirits: she says to me, 'Dear Mr. Calabressa, will you have the +goodness to become my champion?' I say to her, 'Against all the world!' +'Oh no,' she answers, 'not quite so much as that. It is a man who sells +agates and pebbles, and such things; and no matter when I go out, he +will <!-- Page 369 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[Pg 369]</a></span>follow me, and thrust himself before me. Dear Mr. Calabressa, I do +not want agates and pebbles, and he is more importunate than all the +others put together; and the servants of the hotel can do nothing with +him.' Oh, I assure you, it would have made you laugh—her pretence of +gravity! I said nothing—not I; what is the use of making serious +promises over trifles? But when I went out I encountered the gentleman +with the agates and pebbles. 'Friend,' said I, 'a word with you. Skip, +dance, be off with you to the steps of some other hotel; your presence +is not agreeable here.' 'Who are you?' said he, naturally. 'No matter,' +said I; 'but do you wish to be presented with two dozen of the +school-master's sweetmeats?' 'Who are you?' said he again. Then I took +him by the ear and whispered something to him. By the blood of Saint +Peter, Monsieur Brand, you should have heard the quick snap of his box, +and seen the heels of him as he darted off like an antelope! I tell you +the grave-faced minx, that mocking Natalushka, who makes fun of old +people like me—well, she shall not any more be troubled with agates and +pebbles!"</p> + +<p>"Then she is quite cheerful and happy?" said Brand, somewhat wondering.</p> + +<p>"Sometimes," Calabressa said, more gravely. "One cannot always be +anxious; one has glimpses of hope; then the spirit rises; the eyes +laugh. You, for example, you do not seem much cast down?"</p> + +<p>Brand avoided his inquisitive look, and merely said,</p> + +<p>"One must take things as one finds them. There is no use repining over +what happens."</p> + +<p>Calabressa now rose and took his cap; then he laid it down on the table +again.</p> + +<p>"One moment before I go, my dear Monsieur Brand. I told you to expect +news; perhaps you will not understand. Shall I show you something to +help? Regard this: it is only a little trick; but it may help you to +understand when the news comes to you."</p> + +<p>He took from his pocket a piece of white paper, square, and with +apparently nothing on it. He laid it on the table, and produced a red +pencil.</p> + +<p>"May I trouble you for a small pair of scissors, my dear friend?"</p> + +<p>Brand stepped aside to a writing-desk, and brought him the scissors; he +was scarcely thinking of Calabressa, at all; he was thinking of the +message he would send to Naples.</p> + +<p>Calabressa slowly and carefully cut the piece of paper into four +squares, and proceeded to fold these up. Brand looked <!-- Page 370 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[Pg 370]</a></span>on, it is true, +but with little interest; and he certainly did not perceive that his +companion had folded three of these pieces with the under side inward, +the fourth with the upper side inward, while this had the rough edges +turned in a different direction from the other three.</p> + +<p>"Now, Mr. Brand," said Calabressa, calmly, "if one were drawing lots, +for example, what more simple than this? I take one of these pieces—you +see there is nothing on it—I print a red cross with my pencil; there, +it is folded again, and they all go into my cap."</p> + +<p>"Enough, Calabressa," Brand said, impatiently; "you show me that you +have questioned me closely enough. There is enough said about it."</p> + +<p>"I ask your pardon, my dear friend, there is not," said Calabressa, +politely; "for this is what I have to say now: draw one of the pieces of +paper."</p> + +<p>Brand turned away.</p> + +<p>"It is not a thing to be gone over again, I tell you; I have had enough +of it; let it rest."</p> + +<p>"It must not rest. I beg of you—my friend, I insist—"</p> + +<p>He pressed the cap on him. Brand, to get rid of him, drew one of the +papers and tossed it on to the table. Calabressa took it up, opened it, +and showed him the red cross.</p> + +<p>"Yes, you are again unfortunate, my dear Monsieur Brand. Fate pursues +you, does it not? But wait one moment. Will you open the other three +papers?"</p> + +<p>As Brand seemed impatient, Calabressa himself took them out and opened +them singly before him. On each and all was the same red mark.</p> + +<p>But now Brand was indifferent no longer</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, Calabressa?" he said, quickly.</p> + +<p>"I mean," said Calabressa, regarding him, "that one might prepare a +trick by which you would not have much chance of escape."</p> + +<p>Brand caught him by the arm.</p> + +<p>"Do you mean that these others—" He could not complete the sentence; +his brain was in a whirl; was this why Natalie had sent him that strange +message of hope?</p> + +<p>Calabressa released himself, and took his cap, and said,</p> + +<p>"I can tell you nothing, my dear friend—nothing. My lips are sealed for +the present. But surely one is permitted to show you a common little +trick with bits of paper!"</p> + +<p>"But you <i>must</i> tell me what you mean," said Brand, breathlessly, and +with his face still somewhat pale. "You suggest there has been a trick. +That is why you have come from <!-- Page 371 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[Pg 371]</a></span>Naples? What do you know? What is about +to happen? For God's sake, Calabressa, don't have any mystification +about it: what is it that you know—that you suspect—that you have +heard?"</p> + +<p>"My dear friend," said Calabressa, with some anxiety, "perhaps I have +been indiscreet. I know nothing: what can I know? But I show you a +trick—if only to prepare you for any news—and you think it is very +serious. Oh no; do not be too hopeful—do not think it is serious—think +it was a foolish trick—"</p> + +<p>And so, notwithstanding all that Brand could do to force some definite +explanation from him, Calabressa succeeded in getting away, promising to +carry to Natalie any message Brand might send in the evening; and as for +Brand himself, it was now time for him to go up to Lisle Street, so that +he had something else to think of than idle mystifications.</p> + +<p>For this was how he took it in the end: Calabressa was whimsical, +fantastic, mysterious; he had been playing with the notion that Brand +had been entrapped into this service; he had succeeded in showing +himself how it might have been done. The worst of it was—had he been +putting vain hopes into the mind of Natalie? Was this the cause of her +message? In the midst of all this bewildering uncertainty, Brand set +himself to the work left unfinished by Reitzei, and found Ferdinand Lind +as pleasant and friendly a colleague as ever.</p> + +<p>But a few days after he was startled by being summoned back to Lisle +Street, after he had gone home in the afternoon. He found Ferdinand Lind +as calm and collected as usual, though he spoke in a hard, dry voice. He +was then informed that Lind himself and Beratinsky were about to leave +London for a time; that the Council wished Brand to conduct the business +at Lisle Street as best he could in their absence; and that he was to +summon to his aid such of the officers of the Society as he chose. He +asked no explanations, and Lind vouchsafed none. There was something +unusual in the expression of the man's face.</p> + +<p>Well, Brand installed himself in Lisle Street, and got along as best he +could with the assistance of Gathorne Edwards and one or two others. But +not one of them, any more than himself, knew what had happened or was +happening. No word or message of any kind came from Calabressa, or Lind, +or the Society, or any one. Day after day Brand get through his work +with patience, but without interest; only for the time being, these +necessities of the hour beguiled him from <!-- Page 372 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">[Pg 372]</a></span>thinking of the hideous, +inevitable thing that lay ahead in his life.</p> + +<p>When news did come, it was sudden and terrible. One night he and Edwards +were alone in the rooms in Lisle Street, when a letter, sent through a +roundabout channel, was put into his hands. He opened it carelessly, +glanced at the beginning of it, then he uttered an exclamation; then, as +he read on, Edwards noticed that his companion's face was ghastly pale, +even to his lips.</p> + +<p>"Gracious heavens!—Edwards, read it!" he said, quite breathlessly. He +dropped the letter on the table. There was no wild joy at his own +deliverance in this man's face, there was terror rather; it was not of +himself at all he was thinking, but of the death-agony of Natalie Lind +when she should hear of her father's doom.</p> + +<p>"Why, this is very good news, Brand," Edwards cried, wondering. "You are +released from that affair—"</p> + +<p>But then he read farther, and he, too, became agitated.</p> + +<p>"What—what does it mean? Lind, Beratinsky, Reitzei accused of +conspiracy—misusing the powers intrusted to them as officers of the +Society—Reitzei acquitted on giving evidence—Lind and Beratinsky +condemned!"</p> + +<p>Edwards looked at his companion, aghast, and said,</p> + +<p>"You know what the penalty is, Brand?"</p> + +<p>The other nodded. Edwards returned to the letter, reading aloud, in +detached scraps, his voice giving evidence of his astonishment and +dismay.</p> + +<p>"Beratinsky, allowed the option of undertaking the duty from which you +are released, accepts—it is his only chance, I suppose—poor devil! +what chance is it, after all?" He put the letter back on the table. +"What is all this that has happened, Brand?"</p> + +<p>Brand did not answer. He had risen to his feet; he stood like one bound +with chains; there was suffering and an infinite pity in the haggard +face.</p> + +<p>"Why is not Natalie here?" he said; and it was strange that two men so +different from each other as Brand and Calabressa should in such a +crisis have had the same instinctive thought. The lives and fates of men +were nothing; it was the heart of a girl that concerned them. "They will +tell her—some of them over there—they will tell her suddenly that her +father is condemned to die! Why is she—among—among strangers?"</p> + +<p>He pulled out his watch hastily, but long ago the night-mail had left +for Dover. At this moment the bell rung below, <!-- Page 373 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">[Pg 373]</a></span>and he started; it was +unusual for them to have a visitor at such an hour.</p> + +<p>"It is only that drunken fool Kirski," Edwards said. "I asked him to +come here to-night."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LIII" id="CHAPTER_LIII"></a>CHAPTER LIII.</h2> + +<h3>THE TRIAL.</h3> + + +<p>It was a dark, wet, and cold night when Calabressa felt his way down the +gangway leading from the Admiralty Pier into the small Channel steamer +that lay slightly rolling at her moorings. Most of the passengers who +were already on board had got to leeward of the deck-cabins, and sat +huddled up there, undistinguishable bundles of rugs. For a time he +almost despaired of finding out Reitzei, but at last he was successful; +and he had to explain to this particular bundle of rugs that he had +changed his mind, and would himself travel with him to Naples.</p> + +<p>It was a dirty night in crossing, and both suffered considerably; the +difference being that, as soon as they got into the smooth waters of +Calais harbor, Calabressa recovered himself directly, whereas Reitzei +remained an almost inanimate heap of wrappings, and had to be assisted +or shoved up the steep gangway into the glare of the officials' lamps. +Then, as soon as he had got into a compartment of the railway-carriage, +he rolled himself up in a corner, and sought to forget his sufferings in +sleep.</p> + +<p>Calabressa was walking up and down on the platform. At length the bell +rung, and he was about to step into the compartment, when he found +himself preceded by a lady.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, madame," said he, politely, "but it is a carriage +for smokers."</p> + +<p>"And if one wishes to smoke, one is permitted—is it not so?" said the +stranger, cheerfully.</p> + +<p>Calabressa at once held open the door for her, and then followed. These +three had the compartment to themselves.</p> + +<p>She was a young lady, good-looking, tall, bright-complexioned, with +brown eyes that had plenty of fire in them, and a pleasant smile that +showed brilliant teeth. Calabressa, sitting opposite her, judged that +she was an Austrian, from the number of bags and knickknacks she had, +all in red Russia leather, and from the number of trinkets she wore, +mostly of <!-- Page 374 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_374" id="Page_374">[Pg 374]</a></span>polished steel or silver. She opened a little tortoise-shell +cigarette-case, took out a cigarette, and gracefully accepted the light +that Calabressa offered her. By this time the train had started, and was +thundering through the night.</p> + +<p>The young lady was very frank and affable; she talked to her companion +opposite—Reitzei being fast asleep—about a great many things; she lit +cigarette after cigarette. She spoke of her husband moreover; and +complained that he should have to go and fight in some one else's +quarrel. Why could not ladies who went to the tables at Monte Carlo keep +their temper, that a perfectly neutral third person should be summoned +to fight a duel on behalf of one of them?</p> + +<p>"You are going to rejoin him, then, madame?" said Calabressa.</p> + +<p>"Not at all," she said, laughing. "I have my own affairs."</p> + +<p>After some time, she said, with quite a humorous smile,</p> + +<p>"My dear sir, I hope I do not keep you from sleeping. But you are +puzzled about me; you think you have seen me before, but cannot tell +where."</p> + +<p>"There you are perfectly right, madame."</p> + +<p>"Think of the day before yesterday. You were crossing in the steamer. +You were so good as to suggest to a lady on board that nearer the centre +vessel would be safer for her—"</p> + +<p>He stared at her again. Could this be the same lady who, on the day that +he crossed, was seated right at the stern of the steamer her brown hair +flying about with the wind, her white teeth flashing as she laughed and +joked with the sailors, her eyes full of life and merriment as she +pitched up and down? Calabressa, before the paroxysms of his woe +overtook him, had had the bravery to go and remonstrate with this young +lady, and to tell her she would be more comfortable nearer the middle of +the boat; but she had laughingly told him she was a sailor's daughter, +and was not afraid of the sea. Well, this handsome young lady opposite +certainly laughed like that other, but still—</p> + +<p>"Oh," she said, "do I puzzle you with such a simple thing? My hair was +brown the day before yesterday, it is black to-day; is that a sufficient +disguise? <i>Pardieu</i>, when I went to a music-hall in London that same +night to see some stupid nonsense—bah! such stupid nonsense I have +never seen in the world—I went dressed as a man. Only for exercise, you +perceive: one does not need disguises in London."</p> + +<p>Calabressa was becoming more and more mystified, and she saw it, and her +amusement increased.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 375 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375">[Pg 375]</a></span></p><p>"Come, my friend," she said, "you cannot deny that you also are +political?"</p> + +<p>"I, madame?" said Calabressa, with great innocence.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes. And you are not on the side of the big battalions, eh?"</p> + +<p>"I declare to you, madame—"</p> + +<p>She glanced at Reitzei.</p> + +<p>"Your friend sleeps sound. Come, shall I tell you something? You did not +say a word, for example, when you stepped on shore, to a gentleman in a +big cloak who had a lantern—"</p> + +<p>"Madame, I beg of you!" he exclaimed, in a low voice, also glancing at +Reitzei.</p> + +<p>"What!" she said, laughing. "Then you have the honor of the acquaintance +of my old friend Biard? The rogue, to take a post like that! Oh, I think +my husband could speak more frankly with you; I can only guess."</p> + +<p>"You are somewhat indiscreet, madame," said Calabressa, coldly.</p> + +<p>"I indiscreet?" she said, flickering <ins class="correction" title="Printed: off the the ash">off the ash</ins> of her cigarette +with a finger of the small gloved hand. Then she said, with mock +seriousness, "How can one be indiscreet with a friend of the good man +Biard? Come, I will give you a lesson in sincerity. My husband is gone +to fight a duel, I told you; yes, but his enemy is a St. Petersburg +general who belonged to the Third Section. They should not let Russians +play at Monte Carlo; it is so easy to pick a quarrel with them. And now +about myself; you want to know what I am—what I am about. Ah, I +perceive it, monsieur. Well, this time, on the other hand, I shall be +discreet. But if you hear of something within a few weeks—if the whole +of the world begins to chatter about it—and you say, 'Well, that woman +had pluck'—then you can think of our little conversation during the +night. We must be getting near Amiens, is it not so?"</p> + +<p>She took from her traveling-bag a small apparatus for showering +eau-de-cologne in spray, and with this sprinkled her forehead; afterward +removing the drops with a soft sponge, and smoothing her rebellious +black hair. Then she took out a tiny flask and cup of silver.</p> + +<p>"Permit me, monsieur, to give you a little cognac, after so many +cigarettes. I fear you have only been smoking to keep me company—"</p> + +<p>"A thousand thanks, madame!" said Calabressa, who certainly did not +refuse. She took none herself; indeed, she <!-- Page 376 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_376" id="Page_376">[Pg 376]</a></span>had just time to put her +bags in order again when the train slowed into Amiens station; and she, +bidding her bewildered and bewitched companion a most courteous +farewell, got out and departed.</p> + +<p>Calabressa himself soon fell asleep, and did not wake until they were +near Paris. By this time the bundle of rugs in the corner had begun to +show signs of animation.</p> + +<p>"Well, friend Reitzei you have had a good sleep," said Calabressa, +yawning, and stretching his arms.</p> + +<p>"I have slept a little."</p> + +<p>"You have slept all night—what more? What do you know, for example, of +the young lady who was in the carriage?"</p> + +<p>"I saw her come in," Reitzei said, indifferently, "and I heard you +talking once or twice. What was she?"</p> + +<p>"There you ask me a pretty question. My belief is that she was either +one of those Nihilist madwomen, or else the devil himself in a new +shape. At any rate, she had some good cognac."</p> + +<p>"I should like some coffee now, Signor Calabressa; and you?"</p> + +<p>"I would not refuse it."</p> + +<p>Indeed, during all this journey to Naples, Calabressa and his companion +talked much more of the commonplace incidents and wants of travel than +of the graver matters that lay before them. Calabressa was especially +resolute in doing so. He did not like to look ahead. He kept reminding +himself that he was simply the agent of the Council; he was carrying out +their behests; the consequences were for others to deal with. He had +fulfilled his commission; he had procured sufficient proof of the +suspected conspiracy; if evil-doers were to be punished, was he +responsible? <i>Fiat justitia!</i> he kept repeating to himself. He was +answerable to the Council alone. He had done his duty.</p> + +<p>But from time to time—and especially when they were travelling at +night, and he was awake—a haunting dread possessed him. How should he +appear before these two women in Naples? His old friend Natalie +Berezolyi had been grievously wronged; she had suffered through long +years; but a wife forgets much when her husband is about to die. And a +daughter? Lind had been an affectionate father enough to this girl; +these two had been companions all her lifetime; recent incidents would +surely be forgotten in her terror over the fact that it was her own +appeal to the Council that had wrought her father's death. And then he, +<!-- Page 377 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_377" id="Page_377">[Pg 377]</a></span>Calabressa, what could he say? It was through him she had invoked these +unknown powers; it was his counsel that had taken her to Naples; and he +was the immediate instrument that would produce this tragic end.</p> + +<p>He would not think of it. At the various places where they stopped he +worried about food and drink, and angrily haggled about hotel-bills: he +read innumerable stupid little newspapers from morning till night; he +smoked Reitzei nearly blind. At last they reached Naples.</p> + +<p>Within an hour after their arrival Calabressa, alone, was in Tommaso's +wine-vaults talking to the ghoul-like occupant. A bell rung, faint and +muffled, in the distance; he passed to the back of the vaults, and lit a +candle that Tommaso handed him; then he followed what seemed, from the +rumble overhead, some kind of subterranean corridor. But at the end of +this long sub-way he began to ascend; then he reached some steps; +finally, he was on an ordinary staircase, with daylight around him, and +above him a landing with two doors, both shut.</p> + +<p>Opening one of these doors, after having knocked thrice, he entered a +large, bare chamber which was occupied by three men, all seated at a +table which was covered with papers. One of them, Von Zoesch, rose.</p> + +<p>"That is good; that is very well settled," he said to the other two. "It +is a good piece of work. Now here is this English business, and the +report of our wily friend, Calabressa. What is it, Calabressa? We had +your telegram; we have sent for Lind and Beratinsky; what more?"</p> + +<p>"Excellency, I have fulfilled your commission, I hope with judgment," +Calabressa said, his cap in his hand. "I believe it is clear that the +Englishman had that duty put upon him by fraudulent means."</p> + +<p>"It is a pity if it be so; it will cost us some further trouble, and we +have other things to think about at present." Then he added, lightly, +"but it will please your young lady friend, Calabressa. Well?"</p> + +<p>"Excellency, you forget it may not quite so well please her if it is +found that her father was in the conspiracy," said Calabressa, +submissively.</p> + +<p>"Why not?" answered the bluff, tall soldier. "However, to the point, +Calabressa. What have you discovered? and your proofs."</p> + +<p>"I have none, your Excellency; but I have brought with me one of the +four in the ballot who is willing to confess. Why is he willing to +confess?" said Calabressa, with a little <!-- Page 378 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_378" id="Page_378">[Pg 378]</a></span>triumphant smile; "because he +thinks the gentlemen of the Council know already."</p> + +<p>"And you have frightened the poor devil, no doubt," said Von Zoesch, +laughing.</p> + +<p>"I have on the contrary, assured him of pardon," said Calabressa, +gravely. It is within the powers you gave me, Excellency. I have pledged +my honor—"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, yes; very well. But do you mean to tell us, my good +Calabressa," said this tall man, speaking more seriously, "that you have +proof of these three—Lind, Beratinsky, Reitzei—having combined to +impose on the Englishman? Not Lind, surely? Perhaps the other two—"</p> + +<p>"Your Excellency, it is for you to investigate further and determine. I +will tell you how I proceeded. I went to the Englishman, and got minute +particulars of what <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: "occured." in the original text"> +occurred.</ins> I formed my own +little story, my guess, my theory. I got hold of Reitzei, and hinted +that it was all known. On my faith, he never thought of denying +anything, he was so frightened! But regard this, Excellency; I know +nothing. I can give you the Englishman's account; then, if you get that +of Reitzei, and the two correspond, it is a good proof that Reitzei is +not lying in his confession. It is for you to examine him, Excellency."'</p> + +<p>"No, it is not for me," the ruddy-faced soldier-looking man said, and +then he turned to his two companions. The one was the Secretary +Granaglia: the other was a broad-shouldered, elderly man, with +strikingly handsome features of the modern Greek type, a pallid, +wax-like complexion, and thoughtful, impenetrable eyes. "Brother +Conventzi, I withdraw from this affair. I leave it in hands of the +Council; one of the accused was in former days my friend; it is not +right that I should interfere."</p> + +<p>"And I also, Excellency," said Calabressa, eagerly. "I have fulfilled my +commission; may not I retire now also?"</p> + +<p>"Brother Granaglia will take down your report in writing; then you are +free, my Calabressa. But you will take the summons of the Council to +your friend Reitzei; I suppose he will have to be examined before the +others arrive."</p> + +<p>And so it came about that neither the General von Zoesch nor Calabressa +was present when the trial, if trial it could be called, took place. +There were no formalities. In this same big bare room seven members of +the Council sat at the table, Brother Conventz presiding, the Secretary +Granaglia at the foot, with writing-materials before him. Ferdinand Lind +and Beratinsky stood between them and the side-wall <!-- Page 379 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_379" id="Page_379">[Pg 379]</a></span>apparently +impassive. Reitzei was nearer the window, pallid, uneasy, his eyes +wandering about the room, but avoiding the place where his former +colleagues stood.</p> + +<p>The President briefly stated the accusation against them, and read +Reitzei's account of his share in what had taken place. He asked if they +had anything to deny or to explain.</p> + +<p>Beratinsky was the first to speak.</p> + +<p>"Illustrious Brethren of the Council," he began, as if with some set +speech; but his color suddenly forsook him, and he halted and looked +helplessly round. Then he said, wildly, "I declare that I am innocent—I +say that I am innocent! I never should have thought of it, gentlemen. It +was Lind's suggestion; he wished to get rid of the man; I declare I had +nothing to gain. Gentlemen, judge for yourselves: what had I to gain?"</p> + +<p>He looked from one to the other; the grave faces were mostly regarding +Granaglia, who was slowly and carefully putting the words down.</p> + +<p>Then Lind spoke, clearly and coldly:</p> + +<p>"I have nothing to deny. What I did was done in the interests of the +Society. My reward for my long services is that I am haled here like a +pickpocket. It is the second time; it will be the last. I have done, +now, with the labor of my life. You can reap the fruits of it. Do with +me what you please."</p> + +<p>The President rose.</p> + +<p>"The gentlemen may now retire; the decision of the Council will be +communicated to them hereafter."</p> + +<p>A bell rung; Tommaso appeared; Lind and Beratinsky were conducted down +the stairs and through the dark corridor. In a few seconds Tommaso +returned, and performed a like office for Reitzei.</p> + +<p>The deliberation of the Council were but of short duration. The guilt of +the accused was clear; and clear and positive was the penalty prescribed +by the articles of the Society. But, in consideration of the fact that +Beratinsky had been led into this affair by Lind, it was resolved to +offer him the alternative of his taking over the service from which +Brand was released. This afforded but a poor chance of escape, but +Beratinsky was in a desperate position. That same evening he accepted; +and the Secretary Granaglia was forthwith ordered to report the result +of these proceedings to England, and give certain instructions as to the +further conduct of business there.</p> + +<p>The Secretary Granaglia performed this task with his <!-- Page 380 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_380" id="Page_380">[Pg 380]</a></span>usual equanimity. +He was merely a machine registering the decrees of the Council; it was +no affair of his to be concerned about the fate of Ferdinand Lind; he +had even forgotten the existence of the two women who had been patiently +waiting day after day at that hotel, alternately hoping and fearing to +learn what had occurred.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LIV" id="CHAPTER_LIV"></a>CHAPTER LIV.</h2> + +<h3>PUT TO THE PROOF.</h3> + + +<p>It was not at all likely that, at such a crisis, George Brand should pay +much attention to the man Kirski, who was now ushered into the room. He +left Edwards to deal with him. In any case he could not have understood +a word they were saying, except through the interpretation of Edwards, +and that was a tedious process. He had other things to think of.</p> + +<p>Edwards was in a somewhat nervous and excited condition after hearing +this strange news, and he grew both impatient and angry when he saw that +Kirski was again half dazed with drink.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I thought so!" he exclaimed, looking as fierce as the mild +student-face permitted. "This is why you are not at the shop when I +called to-day. What do you mean by it? What has become of your +promises?"</p> + +<p>"Little father, I have great trouble," said the man, humbly.</p> + +<p>"You! You in trouble!" said Edwards, angrily. "You do not know what +trouble is. You have everything in the world you could wish for. You +have good friends, as much employment as you can want, fair wages, and a +comfortable home. If your wife ran away from you, isn't it a good +riddance? And then, instead of setting about your work like a good +citizen, you think of nothing but murdering a man who is as far away +from you as the man in the moon, and then you take to drinking, and +become a nuisance to every one."</p> + +<p>"Little father, I have many troubles, and I wish to forget."</p> + +<p>"Your troubles!" said Edwards, though his anger was a little bit +assumed: he wished to frighten the man into better ways. "What are your +troubles? Think of that beautiful lady you are always talking about, who +interested herself in you—the bigger fool she!—think of her trouble +when she <!-- Page 381 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_381" id="Page_381">[Pg 381]</a></span>knows that her father is to die; and for what? Because he was +not obedient to the laws of the Society. And he is punished with death; +and you, have you been obedient? What has become of your promises to +me?"</p> + +<p>The man before him seemed at this moment to arouse himself. He answered +nothing to the reproaches hurled at him; but said, with a glance of +eager interest in the sunken eyes,</p> + +<p>"Is she in great trouble, little father?"</p> + +<p>This gleam of intelligence rather startled Edwards. He had been merely +scolding a half-drunken poor devil, and had been incautious as to what +he said. He continued, with greater discretion,</p> + +<p>"Would she have her troubles made any the less if she knew how you were +behaving? She was interested in you; many a time she asked about you—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes," the man said, slowly; and he was twisting about the cap that +he held in his hand.</p> + +<p>"And she gave you her portrait. Well, I am glad you knew you were not +fit to retain such a gift. A young lady like that does not give her +portrait to be taken into public-houses—"</p> + +<p>"No more—do not say any more, little father," Kirski said, though in +the same humble way. "It is useless."</p> + +<p>"Useless?"</p> + +<p>"I will not go back to any public-house—never."</p> + +<p>"So you said to me four days ago," Edwards answered.</p> + +<p>"This time it is true," he said, though he did not lift his bleared +eyes. "To-morrow I will take back the portrait, little father; it shall +remain with me, in my room. I do not go back to any public-house, I +shall be no more trouble." Then he said, timidly raising his eyes, "Does +she weep—that beautiful one?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, no doubt," said Edwards, hastily, and in some confusion. "Is it +not natural? But you must not say a word about it; it is a secret. Think +of it, and what one has to suffer in this world, and then ask yourself +if you will add to the trouble of one who has been so kind to you. Now +do I understand you aright? Is it a definite promise this time?"</p> + +<p>"This time, yes, little father. You will have no more need to complain +of me, I will not add to any one's trouble. To-morrow—no, to-night I +take back the portrait; it is sacred; I will not add to any one's +trouble."</p> + +<p>There was something strange about the man's manner, but Edwards put it +down to the effects of drink, and was chiefly <!-- Page 382 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_382" id="Page_382">[Pg 382]</a></span>concerned in impressing +on the dazed intelligence before him the responsibility of the promises +he had given.</p> + +<p>"To-morrow, then, at nine you are at the shop."</p> + +<p>"Assuredly, if you wish it, little father."</p> + +<p>"Remember, it is the last chance your master will give you. He is very +kind to give you this chance. To-morrow you begin a new course of +conduct; and when the young lady comes back I will tell her of it."</p> + +<p>"I will not add to her troubles, little father; you may be sure of it +this time."</p> + +<p>When he had gone, Brand turned to his companion. He still held that +letter in his hands. His face, that had grown somewhat haggard of late, +was even paler than usual.</p> + +<p>"I suppose I ought to feel very glad, Edwards," he said. "This is a +reprieve, don't you see, so far as I am concerned. And yet I can't +realize it; I don't seem to care about it; all the bitterness was +over—"</p> + +<p>"You are too bewildered yet, Brand—no wonder."</p> + +<p>"If only the girl and her mother were over here!" he said; and then he +added, with a quick instinct of fear, "What will she say to me? When she +appealed to the Council, surely she could not have imagined that the +result would be her father's death. But now that she finds it so—when +she finds that, in order to rescue me, she has sacrificed him—"</p> + +<p>He could not complete the sentence.</p> + +<p>"But he has richly deserved it," said Edwards.</p> + +<p>"That is not what she will look to," he said. "Edwards," he added, +presently, "I am going home now. This place stifles me. I hate the look +of it. That table is where they played their little sleight-of-hand +business; and oh! the bravery of the one and the indifference of the +other, and Lind's solemn exposition of duty and obedience, and all the +rest of it! Well, what will be the result when this pretty story becomes +known? Rascality among the very foremost officers of the Society! what +are all those people who have recently joined us, who are thinking of +joining us, likely to say? Are these your high-priests? Are these the +apostles of self-sacrifice, and all the virtues?"</p> + +<p>"It is bad enough, but not irreparable," said Edwards, calmly. "If a +member here or there falls out, the association remains; if one of its +high officers betrays his trust, you see how swift and terrible the +punishment is."</p> + +<p>"I do not," said Brand. "I see that the paper decree is swift enough, +but what about the execution of it? Have the Council a body of +executioners?"</p> + +<p><!-- Page 383 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_383" id="Page_383">[Pg 383]</a></span></p><p>"I don't know about that," said Edwards, simply; "but I know that when +I was in Naples with Calabressa, I heard of the fate of several against +whom decrees had been pronounced; and I know that in every instance they +anticipated their own fate; the horror of being continually on the watch +was too much for them. You may depend on it, that is what Lind will do. +He is a proud man. He will not go slinking about, afraid at every +street-corner of the knife of the Little Chaffinch, or some other of +those <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: "Cammorra" in the original text"> +Camorra</ins> fellows—"</p> + +<p>"Edwards," said Brand, hastily, "there is a taint of blood—of +treachery—about this whole affair that sickens me. It terrifies me when +I think of what lies ahead. I—I think I have already tasted death, and +the taste is still bitter in the mouth. I must get into the fresh air."</p> + +<p>Edwards got his coat and hat, and followed. He saw that his companion +was strangely excited.</p> + +<p>"If all this work—if all we have been looking forward to—were to turn +out to be a delusion," Brand said, hurriedly, when they had got into the +dark clear night outside, "that would be worse than the suicide of +Ferdinand Lind or the disappearance of Beratinsky. If this is to be the +end—if these are our companions—"</p> + +<p>"But how can you suggest such a thing?" Edwards protested. "Your +imagination is filled with blackness, Brand. You are disturbed, shocked, +afraid. Why, who are your colleagues? What do you think of—" Here he +mentioned a whole string of names, some of them those of well-known +Englishmen. "Do you accuse them of treachery? Have you not perfect +confidence in them? Have they not perfect confidence in the work we are +all pledged to?"</p> + +<p>But he could not shake off this horrible feeling. He wished to be alone, +to fight with it; he did not even think of going to Lord Evelyn; perhaps +it was now too late. Shortly afterward he bade Edwards good-night, and +made his way to his rooms at the foot of Buckingham Street.</p> + +<p>Waters had left the lights low; he did not turn them up. Outside lay the +black night-world of London, hushed and silent, with its thousand golden +points of fire. He was glad to be alone.</p> + +<p>And yet an unknown feeling of dread was upon him. It seemed as if now +for the first time he realized what a terrible destiny had nearly been +his; and that his escape, so far from rendering him joyful, had left him +still trembling and horrified. Hitherto his pride had conquered. Even as +he had undertaking that duty, it was his pride that had kept him +out<!-- Page 384 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_384" id="Page_384">[Pg 384]</a></span>wardly calm and indifferent. He would not show fear, he would not +even show repugnance, before these men. And it was pride, too, that had +taught him at length and successfully to crush down certain vague +rebellions of conscience. He would not go back from his oath. He would +not go back from the promise to which Natalie's ring bound him. He would +go through with this thing, and bid farewell to life; further than that +no one could have demands on him.</p> + +<p>But the sudden release from this dire pressure of will left his nerves +somewhat unstrung. For the mere sake of companionship he would like to +have taken Natalie's hand, to have heard her voice: that would have +assured him, and given him courage. He knew not what dangers encompassed +her, what agony she might not be suffering. And the night did not answer +these sudden, wavering, confused questionings; the darkness outside was +as silent as the grave.</p> + +<p>Then a deeper gloom, almost touching despair, fell upon him. He saw in +all those companions of his only so many dupes; the great hope of his +life left him, the future became blank. He began to persuade himself +that he had only toyed with that new-found faith; that it was the +desperation of <i>ennui</i>, not a true hope, that had drawn him into this +work; that henceforth he would have no right to call upon others to join +in a vain undertaking. If such things as had just occurred were possible +in this organization, with all its lofty aims and professions—if there +was to be a background of assassination and conspiracy—why, this dream +must go as others had done. Then what remained to him in life? He almost +wished he had been allowed to go forward to this climax unknowing; to +have gone with his heart still filled with faith; to be assured until +the last moment that Natalie would remember how he had fulfilled his +promise to her.</p> + +<p>It was a dark night for him, within and without. But as he sat there at +the window, or walked up and down, wrestling with these demons of doubt +and despair, a dull blue light gradually filled the sky outside; the +orange stars on the bridges grew less intense; the broad river became +visible in the dusk. Then by-and-by the dull blue cleared into a pale +steel-gray, and the forms of the boats could be made out, anchored in +the stream there: these were the first indications of the coming dawn.</p> + +<p>Somehow or other he ceased these restless pacings of his, and was +attracted to the window, though he gazed but absently on the slow change +taking place outside—the world-old wonder of the new day rising in the +east. Up into that <!-- Page 385 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_385" id="Page_385">[Pg 385]</a></span>steely-gray glides a soft and luminous +saffron-brown; it spreads and widens; against it the far dome of St. +Paul's becomes a beautiful velvet-purple. A planet, that had been golden +when it was in the dusk near the horizon, has now sailed up into the +higher heaven, and shines a clear silver point. And now, listen! the +hushed and muffled sounds in the silence; the great city is awakening +from its sleep—there is the bark of a dog—the rumble of a cart is +heard. And still that saffron glow spreads and kindles in the east, and +the dome of St. Paul's is richer in hue than ever; the river between the +black-gray bridges, shines now with a cold light, and the gas-lamps have +grown pale. And then the final flood of glory wells up in the eastern +skies, and all around him the higher buildings catch here and there a +swift golden gleam: the sunrise is declared; there is a new day born for +the sons and daughters of men.</p> + +<p>The night had fled, and with it the hideous phantoms of the night. It +seemed to him that he had escaped from the grave, and that he was only +now shaking off the horror of it. Look at the beautiful, clear colors +without; listen to the hum of the city awakening to all its cheerful +activities; the new day has brought with it new desires, new hopes. He +threw open the windows. The morning air was cold and sweet—the sparrows +were beginning to chirp in the garden-plots below. Surely that black +night was over and gone.</p> + +<p>If only he could see Natalie for one moment, to assure her that he had +succumbed but once, and for the last time, to despair. It was a +confession he was bound to make; it would not lessen her trust in him. +For now all through his soul a sweet, clear voice was ringing: it was +the song the sunrise had brought him; it was the voice of Natalie +herself, with all its proud pathos and fervor, as he had heard it in the +olden days:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0" style="margin-left: -.5em">"A little time we gain from time<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To set our seasons in some chime,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">For harsh or sweet, or loud or low,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">With seasons played out long ago—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And souls that in their time and prime<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Took part with summer or with snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Lived abject lives out or sublime,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">And had there chance of seed to sow<br /></span> +<span class="i1">For service or disservice done<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To those days dead and this their son.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0" style="margin-left: -.5em">"A little time that we may fill<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Or with such good works or such ill<br /></span> +<span class="i3">As loose the bonds or make them strong,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Wherein all manhood suffers wrong.<br /></span> +<!-- Page 386 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_386" id="Page_386">[Pg 386]</a></span><span class="i1">By rose-hung river and light-foot rill<br /></span> +<span class="i3">There are who rest not; who think long<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Till they discern, as from a hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">At the sun's hour of morning song,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Known of souls only, and those souls free,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The sacred spaces of the sea."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Surely it was still for him and her together to stand on some such +height, hand-in-hand, and watch the sunrise come over the sea and +awakening world. They would forget the phantoms of the night, and the +traitors gone down to Erubus; perhaps, for this new life together, they +might seek a new clime. There was work for them still; and faith, and +hope, and the constant assurance of love: the future might perchance be +all the more beautiful because of these dark perils of the past.</p> + +<p>As he lay thus communing with himself, the light shining in on his +haggard face, Waters came into the room, and was greatly concerned to +find that not only had his master not been to bed, but that the supper +left out for him the night before had not been touched. Brand rose, +without betraying any impatience over his attendant's pertinacious +inquiries and remonstrances. He went and got writing materials, and +wrote as follows:</p> + +<p>"Dear Evelyn,—If you could go over to Naples for me—at once—I would +take it as a great favor. I cannot go myself. Whether or not, come to +see me at Lisle Street to-day, by twelve.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Yours, G.B."</span><br /> +</p> + + +<p>"Take this to Lord Evelyn, Waters; and if he is up get an answer."</p> + +<p>"But your breakfast, sir. God bless me—"</p> + +<p>"Never mind breakfast. I am going to lie down for an hour or two now: I +have had some business to think over. Let me have some breakfast about +eleven—when I ring."</p> + +<p>"Very well, sir."</p> + +<p>That was his phrase—he had had some business to think over. But it +seemed to him, as he went into the adjacent room, that that night he had +passed through worse than the bitterness of death.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><!-- Page 387 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_387" id="Page_387">[Pg 387]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LV" id="CHAPTER_LV"></a>CHAPTER LV.</h2> + +<h3>CONGRATULATIONS.</h3> + + +<p>The Secretary Granaglia, the business of the Council being over, carried +the news to Von Zoesch. It was almost dark when he made his way up the +steep little terraces in the garden of the villa at Posilipo. He found +the tall general seated at the entrance to the grotto-like retreat, +smoking a cigar in the dusk.</p> + +<p>"You are late, Granaglia," he said.</p> + +<p>"I had some difficulty in coming here," said the little man with the +sallow face and the tired eyes. "The police are busy, or pretending to +be. The Commendatore tells me that Zaccatelli has been stirring them +up."</p> + +<p>"Zaccatelli!" said Von Zoesch, with a laugh. "It will soon be time now +for Zaccatelli to come down from his perch. Well, now, what is the +result?"</p> + +<p>Granaglia briefly recounted what had occurred: the other manifested no +surprise.</p> + +<p>"So this is the end of the Lind episode," he said, thoughtfully. "It is +a pity that so able a man should be thrown away. He has worked well; I +know of no one who will fill his place; but that must be seen to at +once, Granaglia. How long have they given him?"</p> + +<p>"A month, your Excellency. He wishes to go back to England to put his +affairs in order. He has a firm nerve."</p> + +<p>"He was a good-looking man when he was young," said Von Zoesch, +apparently to himself. Then he added: "This Beratinsky, to whom the +Zaccatelli affair has been transferred—what do you think of him? There +must be no bungling, Granaglia. What do you think of him—is he to be +trusted?"</p> + +<p>"Your Excellency, if I were to give you my own impression, I should say +not in the least. He accepts this service—why? Because he is otherwise +lost for certain, and here is a chance: it is perhaps better than +nothing. But he does not go forward with any conviction of duty: what is +he thinking but of his chance of running away?"</p> + +<p>"And perhaps running away beforehand, for example?"</p> + +<p>"Oh no, your Excellency; at least, that has been provided for. Caprone +and the brother of Caprone will wait upon him until the thing is over; +and what is more, he will receive a hint that these two humble +attendants of his are keeping an eye on him."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 388 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_388" id="Page_388">[Pg 388]</a></span></p><p>"Caprone dare not go to Rome."</p> + +<p>"He is ready to go anywhere. They might as well try to lay hands on a +ghost."</p> + +<p>Von Zoesch rose, and stretched his huge frame, and yawned.</p> + +<p>"So this is the end of the episode Lind," he said, idly. "It is a pity. +But if a man plays a risky game and loses, he must pay. Perhaps the +warning will be wholesome, Granaglia. Our friends must understand that +our laws are not laid down for nothing, and that we are not afraid to +punish offenders, even if these be among ourselves. I suppose there is +nothing further to be done to-night?"</p> + +<p>"I would ask your Excellency to remain here for a little time yet," said +the Secretary.</p> + +<p>"Are they coming so near? We must get Calabressa to procure some of them +a dozen or two on board the schooner. However—"</p> + +<p>He sat down again, and lit another cigar.</p> + +<p>"We must pay Calabressa a compliment, Granaglia; it was well done—very +clever; it has all turned out just as he imagined; it is not the first +time he has done us good service, with all his volubility. Oh yes; the +rascal knows when to hold his tongue. At this moment, for example, he +refuses to open his lips.</p> + +<p>"Pardon, your Excellency; but I do not understand you."</p> + +<p>The general laughed a little, and continued talking—it was one way of +passing the time.</p> + +<p>"It is a good joke enough. The wily old Calabressa saw pretty clearly +what the decision of the Council would be, and so he comes to me and +entreats me to be the bearer of the news to Madame Lind and her +daughter. Oh yes; it is good news, this deliverance of the Englishman; +Madame Lind is an old friend of mine; she and her daughter will be +grateful. But you perceive, Granaglia, that what the cunning old dog was +determined to avoid was the reporting to Madame Lind that her husband +had been sentenced. That was no part of the <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: "orignal" in the original text"> +original</ins> programme. And now Calabressa holds his mouth shut; he keeps +out of the way; it is left for me to go and inform the mother and +daughter."</p> + +<p>His voice became more serious.</p> + +<p>"The devil take it, it is no pleasant task at all! One is never sure how +the brain of a woman will work; you start the engine, but it may plunge +back the wrong way and strike you. Calabressa is afraid. The fox is +hiding in some hole until it is all over."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 389 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_389" id="Page_389">[Pg 389]</a></span></p><p>"Cannot I be of some service, your Excellency?" the Secretary said.</p> + +<p>"No, no; but I thank you, friend Granaglia. It is a delicate matter; it +must be approached with circumspection; and I as an old acquaintance of +Madame Lind, ought not to shirk the duty."</p> + +<p>Apparently, it was not Calabressa only who had some dread of the +difficulties of news-bearer.</p> + +<p>"It is impossible for your Excellency to go near the hotel at present," +said the Secretary, promptly.</p> + +<p>But his chief refused to accept this offered means of escape.</p> + +<p>"That is true, but it is not a difficulty. To-night, friend Granaglia, +you will send a message to the hotel, bidding them be at the Villa +Odelschalchi to-morrow morning at eleven—you understand?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly, your Excellency."</p> + +<p>"Then I will meet them, and take the risk. Everything must be settled +off at once: we have wasted too much time over this affair, Granaglia. +When does the Genoa Council meet?"</p> + +<p>"On the Seventh."</p> + +<p>"To-morrow you must issue the summonses. Come, Granaglia, let us be +stirring; it is cold. Where does Brother Conventz sleep to-night?"</p> + +<p>"On board the schooner, your Excellency."</p> + +<p>"I also. To-morrow, at eleven, you will be at Portici; to-night you will +send the message to the ladies at the hotel; and also, if you can, find +out where that rogue Calabressa is hiding."</p> + +<p>That was the last of their talking. There was some locking up inside; +then they passed down through the dark garden and out into the road. +There was no one visible. They walked on in silence.</p> + +<p>Punctually at eleven the next morning Natalie and her mother appeared at +the iron gates of the Villa Odelschalchi and rang the bell. The porter +appeared, admitted them, and then turned to the great white staircase, +which Granaglia was at that moment seen to be descending.</p> + +<p>"Will the ladies have the goodness to step into the garden?" said the +Secretary, with grave courtesy. "General von Zoesch will be with them +directly."</p> + +<p>He accompanied them as far as the top of the terrace, and then bowed and +withdrew.</p> + +<p>If Natalie Lind was agitated now, it was not with fear. There was a +fresh animation of color in her cheek; her <!-- Page 390 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_390" id="Page_390">[Pg 390]</a></span>eyes were brilliant and +excited; she spoke in low, eager whispers.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I know what he is coming to tell us, mother—you need not be +afraid: I shall see it in his face before he comes near—I think I shall +be able to hear it in the sound of his steps. Have courage, mother! why +do you tremble so? Remember what Calabressa said. They are so powerful +they can do everything; and you and the General von Zoesch old friends, +too. Look at this, mother: do you see what I have brought with me?"</p> + +<p>She opened her purse—her fingers were certainly a little nervous—and +showed her mother a folded-up telegraph form.</p> + +<p>"I am going to telegraph to him, mother: surely it is from me he should +hear the news first. And then he might come here, mother, to go back +with us: you will rest a few days after so much anxiety."</p> + +<p>"I hope, my darling, it will all turn out well," said the mother, +turning quickly as she heard footsteps.</p> + +<p>The next second Von Zoesch appeared, his face red with embarrassment; +but still Natalie with her first swift glance saw that his eyes were +smiling and friendly, and her heart leaped up with a bound.</p> + +<p>"My dear young lady," said he, taking her hand, "forgive me for making +such a peremptory appointment—"</p> + +<p>"But you bring good news'?" she said, breathlessly. "Oh, sir, I can see +that you have succeeded—yes, yes—the danger is removed—you have saved +him!"</p> + +<p>"My dear young lady," said he smiling, but still greatly embarrassed, +"it is my good fortune to be able to congratulate you. Ah, I thought +that would bring some brightness to your eyes—"</p> + +<p>She raised his hand, and kissed it twice passionately.</p> + +<p>"Mother," she said, in a wild, joyful way, "will you not thank him for +me? I do not know what I am saying—and then—"</p> + +<p>The general had turned to her mother. Natalie quickly took out the +telegraph-form, unfolded it, knelt down and put it on the garden-seat, +and with trembling fingers wrote her message: "<i>You are saved! Come to +us at once; my mother and I wait here for you;</i>" that was the substance +of it. Then she rose, and for a second or two stood irresolute, silent, +and shamefaced. Happily no one had noticed her. These two had gone +forward, and were talking together in a low voice. She did not join +them; she could not have spoken then, her heart was throbbing so +violently with its newly-found joy.</p> + +<p>"Stefan," said the mother—and there was a pleasant light <!-- Page 391 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_391" id="Page_391">[Pg 391]</a></span>in her sad +eyes too—"I shall never forget the gratitude we owe you. I have nothing +else to regard now but my child's happiness. You have saved her life to +her."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes," he said, in stammering haste, "I am glad the child is happy. +It would be a pity, at her time of life, and such a beautiful, brave +young lady—yes, it would be a pity if she were to suffer: I am very +glad. But there is another side to the question, Natalie; it refers to +you. I have not such good news for you—that is, it depends on how you +take it; but it is not good news—it will trouble you—only, it was +inevitable—"</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" she said, calmly.</p> + +<p>"Your husband," he said, regarding her somewhat anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said, without betraying any emotion.</p> + +<p>"Well, you understand, we had not the power to release your English +friend unless there had been injustice—or worse—in his being +appointed. There was. More than that, it was very nearly a repetition of +the old story. Your husband was again implicated."</p> + +<p>She merely looked at him, waiting for him to continue.</p> + +<p>"And the Council," he said, more embarrassed than ever, "had to try him +for his complicity. He was tried and—condemned."</p> + +<p>"To what?" she said, quite calmly.</p> + +<p>"You must know, Natalie. He loses his life!"</p> + +<p>She turned very pale.</p> + +<p>"It was not so before," she managed to say, though her breath came and +went quickly.</p> + +<p>"It was; but then he was pardoned. This time there is no hope."</p> + +<p>She stood silent for a second or two; then she said, regarding him with +a sad look,</p> + +<p>"You think me heartless, Stefan. You think I ought to be overwhelmed +with grief. But—but I have been kept from my child for seventeen years. +I have lived with the threat of the betrayal of my father hanging over +me. The affection of a wife cannot endure everything. Still, I +am—sorry—"</p> + +<p>Her eyes were cast down, and they slowly filled with tears. Von Zoesch +breathed more freely. He was eagerly explaining to her how this result +had become inevitable—how he himself had had no participation in it, +and so forth—when Natalie Lind stepped quickly up to them, looking from +the one to the other. She saw something was wrong.</p> + +<p>"Mother, what is it?" she said, in vague fear. She turned to Von Zoesch. +"Oh, sir, if there is something you have <!-- Page 392 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_392" id="Page_392">[Pg 392]</a></span>not told me—if there is +trouble—why was it not to me that you spoke?"</p> + +<p>She took hold of her mother's hand.</p> + +<p>"Mother, what is it?"</p> + +<p>"My dear young lady," said Von Zoesch, interposing, "you know that life +is made up of both bitter and sweet—"</p> + +<p>"I wish to know, signore," she said, proudly, "what it is you have told +my mother. If there is trouble, it is for her daughter to share it."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, dear young lady, I will tell you," he said, "though it will +grieve you also. I must explain to you. You cannot suppose that the +happy news I deliver to you was the result of the will of any one man, +or number of men. No. It was the result of the application of law and +justice. Your—sweetheart, shall I call him?—was intrusted with a grave +duty, which would most probably have cost him his life. In the ordinary +way, no one could have released him from it, however much certain +friends of yours here might have been interested in you, and grieved to +see you unhappy. But there was this possibility—it was even a +probability—that he had been selected for this service unfairly. Then, +no doubt, if that could be proved, he ought to be released."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes," she said, impatiently.</p> + +<p>"That was proved. Unfortunately, I have to tell you that among those +convicted of this conspiracy was your father. Well, the laws of our +association are strict—they are even terrible where a delinquent is in +a position of high responsibility. My dear young lady, I must tell you +the truth: your father has been adjudged guilty—and—and the punishment +is—death!"</p> + +<p>She <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: "uttererd" in the original text"> +uttered</ins> a quick, short cry of alarm, and +turned with frightened eyes to her mother.</p> + +<p>"Mother, is it true? is it true?"</p> + +<p>The mother did not answer; she had clasped her trembling hands. Then the +girl turned; there was a proud passion in her voice.</p> + +<p>"Oh, sir, what tiger is there among you that is so athirst for blood? +You save one man's life—after intercession and prayer you save one +man's life—only to seize on that of another. And it is to me—it is to +me, his daughter—that you come with congratulations! I am only a child; +I am to be pleased: you speak of a sweetheart; but you do not tell me +that you are about to murder my father! You give me my lover; in +exchange you take my father's life. Is there a wo<!-- Page 393 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_393" id="Page_393">[Pg 393]</a></span>man in all the world +so despicable as to accept her happiness at such a cost?"</p> + +<p>Involuntarily she crushed up the telegram she held in her hand and threw +it away from her.</p> + +<p>"It is not I, at all events," she exclaimed. "Oh, signore, you should +not have mocked me with your congratulations. That is not the happiness +you should offer to a daughter. But you have not killed him yet—there +is time; let things be as they were; that is what my sweetheart, as you +call him, will say; he and I are not afraid to suffer. Surely, rather +that, than that he should marry a girl so heartless and cowardly as to +purchase her happiness at the cost of her father's life?"</p> + +<p>"My dear young lady," he said, with a great pity and concern in his +face, "I can assure you what you think of is impossible. What is done +cannot be undone."</p> + +<p>Her proud indignation now gave way to terror.</p> + +<p>"Oh no, signore, you cannot mean that! I cannot believe it! You have +saved one man—oh, signore, for the love of Heaven, this other also! +Have pity! How can I live, if I know that I have killed my father?"</p> + +<p>He took both her hands in his, and <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: "stove" in the original text"> +strove</ins> to +soothe down her wild terror and dismay. He declared to her she had +nothing to do with it, no more than himself; that her father had been +tried by his colleagues; that if he had not been, a fearful act of +treachery would have been committed. She listened, or appeared to +listen; but her lips were pale; her eyes had a strange look in them; she +was breathless.</p> + +<p>"Calabressa said they were all-powerful," she interrupted suddenly. "But +are they all-powerful to slay only? Oh no, I cannot believe it! I will +go to them; it cannot be too late; I will say to them that I would +rather have died than appealed to them if I had known that this was to +be the terrible result. And Calabressa—why did he not warn me? Or is he +one of the blood-thirsty ones also—one of the tigers that crouch in the +dark? Oh, signore, if they are all-powerful, they are all-powerful to +pardon. May I not go to themselves?"</p> + +<p>"It would be useless, my dear signorina," said Von Zoesch, with deep +compassion in his voice. "I am sorry to grieve you, but justice has been +done, and the decision is past recall. And do not blame poor old +Calabressa—"</p> + +<p>At this moment the bell of the outer gate rang, echoing through the +empty house, and he started somewhat.</p> + +<p>"Come, child," said her mother. "We have taken up too much of your time, +Stefan. I wish there had been no drawback to your good news."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 394 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_394" id="Page_394">[Pg 394]</a></span></p><p>"At the present moment," he said, glancing somewhat anxiously toward +the building, "I cannot ask you to stay, Natalie; but on some other +occasion, and as soon as you please, I will give you any information you +may wish. Remember, you have good friends here."</p> + +<p>Natalie suffered herself to be led away. She seemed too horror-stricken +to be able to speak. Von Zoesch accompanied them only to the terrace, +and there bade them good-bye. Granaglia was waiting to show them to the +gate. A few moments afterward they were in their carriage, returning to +Naples.</p> + +<p>They sat silent for some time, the mother regarding her daughter +anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Natalushka, what are you thinking of?"</p> + +<p>The girl started: her eyes were filled with a haunting fear, as if she +had just seen some terrible thing. And yet she spoke slowly and sadly +and wistfully.</p> + +<p>"I was thinking, mother, that perhaps it was not so hard to be condemned +to die; for then there would come an end to one's suffering. And I was +wondering whether there had been many women in the world who had to +accuse themselves of taking a part in bringing about their own father's +death. Oh, I hope not—I hope not!"</p> + +<p>A second afterward she added, with more than the bitterness of tears in +her trembling voice, "And—and I was thinking of General von Zoesch's +congratulations, mother."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LVI" id="CHAPTER_LVI"></a>CHAPTER LVI.</h2> + +<h3>A COMMISSION.</h3> + + +<p>Lord Evelyn obeyed his friend's summons in considerable anxiety, if not +even alarm; for he made no doubt that it had some connection with that +mysterious undertaking to which Brand was pledged; but when he reached +Lisle Street, and was shown into the larger room, no very serious +business seemed going forward. Two or three of the best-known to him +among the English members of the Society were present, grouped round a +certain Irish M.P., who, with twinkling eyes but otherwise grave face, +was describing the makeshifts of some provincial manager or other who +could not pay his company their weekly salary. To the further sur<!-- Page 395 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_395" id="Page_395">[Pg 395]</a></span>prise +of the new-comer, also, Mr. Lind was absent; his chair was occupied by +Gathorne Edwards.</p> + +<p>He was asked to go into an inner room; and there he found Brand, looking +much more like himself than he had done for some time back.</p> + +<p>"It is awfully kind of you, Evelyn, to come at once. I heard you had +returned to town yesterday. Well, what of the old people down in +Wiltshire?"</p> + +<p>Lord Evelyn was quite thrown off his guard by this frank cheerfulness. +He forgot the uneasy forebodings with which he had left his house.</p> + +<p>"Oh, capital old people!" he said, putting his hat and <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: "unbrella" in the original text"> +umbrella</ins> on the table—"excellent. But you see, Brand, it becomes +a serious question if I have to bury myself in the country, and drink +port-wine after dinner, and listen to full-blown, full-fed glorious old +Tories, every time a sister of mine gets engaged to be married. And now +that Rosalys has begun it, they'll all take to it, one after the other, +like sheep jumping a ditch."</p> + +<p>"They say Milbanke is a very nice young fellow," said Brand.</p> + +<p>"Petted, a little. But then, an only son, and heaps of money: perhaps +its natural. I know he is a ghastly hypocrite," added Lord Evelyn, who +seemed to have some little grudge against his brother-in-law in +prospect. "It was too bad of him to go egging on those old megatheria to +talk politics until they were red in the face, denouncing Free-trade, +and abusing the Ballot, and foretelling the ruin of the former as soon +as the Education Act began to work. Then he pretended to be on their +side—"</p> + +<p>"What did you do?"</p> + +<p>"I sat quiet. I was afraid I might be eaten. I relapsed into +contemplation; and began to compose a volume on 'Tory Types: Some +Survivals in English Politics. For the Information of Town Readers.'"</p> + +<p>"Well, now you have done your duty, and cemented the alliance between +the two families—by drinking port-wine, I suppose—what do you say to a +little pleasure-trip?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, is that all?" he said, looking up quickly. "Is that what your note +meant?"</p> + +<p>"The fact is, Evelyn," he said, with a trifle of embarrassment, "Natalie +and her mother are in Naples, and I don't know precisely in what +circumstances. I am a little anxious about them—I should like to know +more of their surroundings: why, for one thing, I don't know whether +they have <!-- Page 396 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_396" id="Page_396">[Pg 396]</a></span>any money, even. I would go over myself, Evelyn, but the +truth is I cannot—not very well. At least I ought not to go; and I +thought, if you had time—being an old friend of Natalie's—you would +like to see that she was all right.</p> + +<p>"Where is Lind?" said Lord Evelyn, suddenly.</p> + +<p>"Lind is in Italy also," said Brand, evasively.</p> + +<p>"Not with them?"</p> + +<p>"Oh no."</p> + +<p>There was an awkward silence. At length Brand said,</p> + +<p>"Something very serious has happened, Evelyn: and the question is +whether, in the interests of the Society, it should not be kept a +secret, if it is possible."</p> + +<p>"I do not wish to know any secret," Lord Evelyn said, simply. "I am +willing to go over to Naples at once, if I can be of any service."</p> + +<p>"It is very kind of you; I thought you would say as much," Brand said, +still hesitating. "But then I doubt whether you could be of much service +unless you understood the whole situation of affairs. At present only +two over here know what has occurred—Edwards and myself. Yes, I think +you must know also. Read this letter; it came only last night."</p> + +<p>He unlocked a drawer, took out a letter, and gave it to Lord Evelyn, who +read it slowly. When he had finished, he put it on the table without a +word.</p> + +<p>"You understand?" Brand said, calmly. "That means that Lind is to be +punished with death for treachery. Don't think about me; I've had a +narrow escape, but I have escaped—thanks to Natalie's courage and +decision. What I am concerned about is the effect that such a disclosure +might have on the fortunes of the Society. Would it not provoke a +widespread feeling of disgust? Wouldn't there always be a suspicion?"</p> + +<p>"But you yourself, Brand!" Evelyn exclaimed, in amazement. "Why, you—I +thought you would be the first to resign, after such an escape."</p> + +<p>"I have fought all through that, Evelyn," he said, absently. "It was my +first impulse—I confess it. The thought of being associated with such +men sickened me; I despaired; I wished they had never been found out, +and that I had been let blindly go on to the end. Well, I got over the +fit—with a struggle. It was not reasonable, after all. Surely one's +belief in the future of the Society ought to be all the firmer that +these black sheep have been thrust out? As for myself, at all events, I +ought to have more hope, not less. I never did trust Lind, as you know; +I believed in his work, in the <!-- Page 397 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_397" id="Page_397">[Pg 397]</a></span>usefulness of it, and the prospects of +its success; but I never was at ease in his presence; I was glad to get +away to my own work in the north. And now, with the way clearer, why +should one think of giving up? To tell you the truth, Evelyn, I would +give anything to be in America at the present moment, if only Natalie +and her mother were in safety. There is a chance for us there bigger +than anything Lind ever dreamed about. You know the Granges, the +associations of the 'Patrons of Husbandry,' that were founded by the +Scotchman Saunders? It is an immense social organization; the success of +it has been quite unprecedented; they have an immense power in their +hands. And it isn't only agriculture they deal with; they touch on +politics here and there; they control elections; and the men they choose +are invariably men of integrity. Well, now, don't you see this splendid +instrument ready-made? From what I hear from Philadelphia—"</p> + +<p>Lord Evelyn's thoughts were elsewhere than in Philadelphia.</p> + +<p>"You must tell me about yourself, Brand!" he exclaimed. "Your life is no +longer in danger, then? How has it happened?"</p> + +<p>"Oh," said Brand, somewhat carelessly, "I don't know all the particulars +as yet. What I do know is that Natalie and her mother disappeared from +London; I had no idea whither they had gone. Then Calabressa turned up; +and I heard that Natalie had appealed to the Council. Fancy, she, a +young girl, had had the courage to go and appeal to the Council! Then +Calabressa suspected something, I saw by his questions; then Lind, +Beratinsky, and Reitzei appear to have been summoned to Naples. The +result is in that letter; that is about all I know."</p> + +<p>"And these others in there?" said Lord Evelyn, glancing to the door.</p> + +<p>"They know nothing at all. That is what I am uncertain about: whether to +leave the disappearance of Lind unaccounted for—merely saying he had +been summoned away by the Council—or to let everybody who may hear of +it understand that, powerful as he was, he had to succumb to the laws of +the Society, and accept the penalty for his error. I am quite uncertain; +I have no instructions. You might find out for me in Naples, Evelyn, if +you went over there—you might find out what they consider advisable."</p> + +<p>"You are in Lind's place, then?"</p> + +<p>"Not at all," said he, quickly, and with a slight flush. <!-- Page 398 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_398" id="Page_398">[Pg 398]</a></span>"Edwards and I +are merely keeping the thing going until matters are settled. Did you +notice whether Molyneux was in the next room when you came through?"</p> + +<p>"Yes he was."</p> + +<p>"Then excuse me for a minute or two. I want to speak to you further +about Naples."</p> + +<p>Brand was gone some time, and Lord Evelyn was left to ponder over these +strange tidings. To him they were very joyful tidings; for ever since +that communication was made to him of the danger that threatened his +friend's life, he had been haunted by the recollection that, but for +him, Brand would in all probability have never heard of this +association. It was with an infinite sense of personal relief that he +now knew this danger was past. Already he saw himself on his way to +Naples, to find out the noble girl who had taken so bold a step to save +her lover. Not yet had darkness fallen over these two lives.</p> + +<p>Brand returned, carefully shut the door after him, and seated himself on +a corner of the table.</p> + +<p>"You see, Evelyn," he said, quite in his old matter-of-fact way, "I +can't pretend to have very much regret over what has happened to Lind. +He tried to do me an ill turn, and he has got the worst of it; that is +all. On the other hand, I bear him no malice: you don't want to hurt a +man when he is down. I can guess that it isn't the death-penalty that he +is thinking most of now. I can even make some excuse for him, now that I +see the story plain. The temptation was great; always on the +understanding that he was against my marrying his daughter; and that I +had been sure of it for some time. To punish me for not giving up my +property, to keep Natalie to himself, and to get this difficult duty +securely undertaken all at once—it was worth while trying for. But his +way of going about it was shabby. It was a mean trick. Well, there is +nothing more to be said on that point: he has played—played a foul +game—and lost."</p> + +<p>He added, directly afterward,</p> + +<p>"So you think you can go to Naples?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly," said Evelyn, with promptness. "You don't know how glad I am +about this, Brand. If you had come to grief over your relations with +this Society, it would have been like a mill-stone hanging on my +conscience all my life. And I shall be delighted to go to Italy for you. +I should like to see the look on Natalie's face."</p> + +<p>"You will probably find her in great trouble," Brand said, gravely.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 399 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_399" id="Page_399">[Pg 399]</a></span></p><p>"In trouble?"</p> + +<p>"Naturally. Don't you see, Evelyn, she could not have foreseen that the +result of her appeal would involve the destruction of her father. It is +impossible to believe that she could have foreseen that. I know her; she +would not have stirred hand or foot. And now that this has been +discovered, it is not her father's guilt she will be thinking of; it is +his fate, brought about indirectly by herself. You may be sure, Evelyn, +she will not be overjoyed at the present moment. All the more reason why +one who knows her should be near her. I have no idea what sort of people +are about her; I should be more satisfied if I knew you were there."</p> + +<p>"I am ready to go; I am ready to start this afternoon, as I say," Evelyn +repeated; but then he added, with some hesitation: "But I am not going +to play the part of a hypocrite, Brand. I could not pretend to +sympathize with her, if that is the cause of her trouble; I should tell +her it served her father right."</p> + +<p>"You could not be so brutal if you tried, Evelyn," Brand said; "you +might think so: you could not tell her so. But I have no fear: you will +be discreet enough, and delicate enough, when you see her."</p> + +<p>"And what am I to say from you?"</p> + +<p>"From me?" he said. "Oh, you can say I thank her for having saved my +life. That will be enough, I think; she will understand the rest."</p> + +<p>"I mean, what do you advise her to do? Ought they to return to England?"</p> + +<p>"I think so, certainly. Most likely she will be waiting there, trying to +get the Council to reverse the sentence. Having been successful in the +one case, the poor child may think she ought to succeed in the other. I +fear that is too much to expect. However, if she is anxious, she may +try. I should like to know there was somebody near her she could rely +on—don't you understand, Evelyn?—to see that she is situated and +treated as you would like one of your own sisters to be."</p> + +<p>"I see what it is, Brand," Lord Evelyn said, laughing, "you are jealous +of the foreigners. You think they will be using tooth-picks in her +presence, and that kind of thing."</p> + +<p>"I wish to know that she and her mother are in a good hotel," said +Brand, simply, "with proper rooms, and attendance, and—and a carriage: +women can't go walking through these beastly streets of Naples. The long +and short of it is, Evelyn," he added, with some embarrassment, <!-- Page 400 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_400" id="Page_400">[Pg 400]</a></span>as he +took out from his pocket-book two blank checks, and sat down at the +table and signed them, "I want you to play the part of big brother to +them, don't you know? And you will have to exercise skill as well as +force. Don't you see, Calabressa is the best of fellows; but he would +think nothing of taking them to stay in some vile restaurant, if the +proprietor were politically inclined—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes; I see: garlic; cigarettes during breakfast, right opposite +the ladies; wine-glasses used as finger-glasses: well, you are a +thorough Englishman, Brand!"</p> + +<p>"I suppose, when your sisters go abroad, you see that they are directed +to a proper hotel?" said Brand, somewhat angrily.</p> + +<p>"I know this," said Evelyn, laughing, "that my sisters, and you, and +Calabressa, and myself, all boiled together, wouldn't make half as good +a traveller as Natalie Lind is. Don't you believe she has been led away +into any slummy place, for the sake of politics or anything else. I will +bet she knows the best hotels in Naples as well as you do the Waldegrave +Club."</p> + +<p>"At any rate, you've got to play the big brother, Evelyn; and it is my +affair, of course: I will not allow you to be out of pocket by it. Here +are two checks; you can fill them in over there when you see how matters +stand: ——, at Rome, will cash them."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to say I have to pay their hotel-bills?"</p> + +<p>"If they have plenty of money, certainly not; but you must find out. You +must take the bull by the horns. It is far more likely that they have so +little money that they may be becoming anxious. Then you must use a firm +hand—I mean with Natalie. Her mother will acquiesce. And you can tell +Natalie that if she would buy something—some dress, or something—for +the mother of old Calabressa, who is still living—at Spezia, I +think—she would make the old chap glad. And that would be a mark of my +gratitude also; you see, I have never had even the chance of thanking +him as yet."</p> + +<p>Lord Evelyn rose.</p> + +<p>"Very well," said he, "I will send you a report of my mission. How am I +to find them?"</p> + +<p>"You must find them through Calabressa," he said, "for I have not got +their address. So you can start this evening?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, certainly."</p> + +<p>"Then I will telegraph at once to Calabressa to let them <!-- Page 401 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_401" id="Page_401">[Pg 401]</a></span>know you are +coming. Mind you, I am very grateful to you, Evelyn; though I wish I was +going in your stead."</p> + +<p>Lord Evelyn got some further instructions as to how he was to discover +Calabressa on his arrival in Naples; and that evening he began his +journey to the south. He set out, indeed, with a light heart. He knew +that Natalie would be glad to have a message from England.</p> + +<p>At Genoa he had to break the journey for a day, having some commission +to perform on behalf of the Society: this was a parting bequest from +Gathorne Edwards. Then on again; and in due time he entered Naples.</p> + +<p>He scarcely noticed, as he entered the vehicle and drove away to his +hotel, what bare-footed lads outside the station were bawling as they +offered the afternoon papers to the newly-arrived passengers. What +interest had he in Zaccatelli?</p> + +<p>But what the news-venders were calling aloud was this:</p> + +<p>"<i>The death of the Cardinal Zaccatelli! Death of Zaccatelli! The death +of the Cardinal Zaccatelli!</i>"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LVII" id="CHAPTER_LVII"></a>CHAPTER LVII.</h2> + +<h3>FAREWELL!</h3> + + +<p>"Natalushka," said the tender and anxious mother, laying her hand on the +girl's head, "you must bestir yourself. If you let grief eat into your +heart like that, you will become ill; and what shall we do then, in a +strange hotel? You must bestir yourself; and put away those sad thoughts +of yours. I can only tell you again and again that it was none of your +doing. It was the act of the Council: how could you help it? And how can +you help it now? My old friend Stefan says it is beyond recall. Come, +Natalushka, you must not blame yourself; it is the Council, not you, who +have done this; and no doubt they think they acted justly."</p> + +<p>Natalie did not answer. She sighed slightly. Her eyes were turned toward +the blue waters beyond the Castello dell' Ovo.</p> + +<p>"Child," the mother continued, "we must leave Naples."</p> + +<p>"Leave Naples!" the girl cried, with a sudden look of alarm; "having +done nothing—having tried nothing?" Then she added, in a lower voice, +"Well, yes, mother, I suppose it is true what they say, that one can do +nothing by <!-- Page 402 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_402" id="Page_402">[Pg 402]</a></span>remaining. Perhaps—perhaps we ought to go; and yet it is +terrible."</p> + +<p>She shivered slightly as she spoke.</p> + +<p>"You see, Natalushka," her mother said, determined to distract her +attention somehow, "this is an expensive hotel; we must be thinking of +what money we have left to take us back. We have been here some time; +and it is a costly journey, all the way to England."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but not to England—not to England, mother!" Natalie exclaimed, +quickly.</p> + +<p>"Why not to England, then?"</p> + +<p>"Anywhere else, mother," the daughter +<ins class="correction" title="Printed: pleaded. If">pleaded. "If</ins> you wish it, we will +go away: no doubt General von Zoesch knows best; there is no hope. We +will go away from Naples, mother; and—and you know I shall not be much +of a tax on you. We will live cheaply somewhere; and perhaps I could +help a little by teaching music, as Madame Potecki does. Whenever you +wish it, I am ready to go."</p> + +<p>"But why not to England?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell you, mother."</p> + +<p>She rose quickly, and passed into her own room and shut the door.</p> + +<p>There she stood for a second or two, irresolute and breathless, like one +who had just escaped into a place of refuge. Then her eyes fell on her +writing desk, which was on a side-table, and open. Slowly, and with a +strange, pained expression about her mouth, she went and sat down, and +took out some writing materials, and absently and mechanically arranged +them before her. Her eyes were tearless, but once or twice she sighed +deeply. After a time she began to write with an unsteady hand:</p> + +<p>"My Dearest,—You must let me send you a few lines of farewell; for it +would be hard if, in saying good-bye, one were not permitted to say a +kind word or two that could be remembered afterward. And your heart will +have already told you why it is not for you and me now to look forward +to the happiness that once seemed to lie before us. You know what a +terrible result has followed from my rashness; but then you are +free—that is something; for the rest, perhaps it is less misery to die, +than to live and know that you have caused another's death. You +remember, the night they played <i>Fidelio</i>, I told you I should always +try to remain worthy of your love; and how could I keep that promise if +I permitted myself to think of enjoying a happiness that was <!-- Page 403 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_403" id="Page_403">[Pg 403]</a></span>made +possible at the cost of my father's life? You could not marry a woman so +unnatural, so horrible: a marriage purchased at such a price would be +foredoomed; there would be a guilty consciousness, a life-long remorse. +But why do I speak? Your heart tells you the same thing. There only +remains for us to say good-bye, and to thank God for the gleam of +happiness that shone on us for a little time.</p> + +<p>"And you, my dearest of friends, you will send me also a little message, +that I can treasure as a remembrance of bygone days. And you must tell +me also whether what has occurred has deterred you from going farther, +or whether you still remain hoping for better things in the world, and +resolved to do what you can to bring them about. That would be a great +consolation to me, to know that your life still had a noble object. Then +the world would not be quite blank, either for you or for me; you with +your work, I with this poor, kind mother of mine, who needs all the +affection I can give her. Then I hope to hear of you from time to time; +but my mother and myself do not return to England.</p> + +<p>"And now what am I to say, being so far away from you, that will sound +pleasant to you, and that you will remember after with kindness? I look +back now over the time since I have known you, and it appears a +beautiful dream—anxious sometimes, and troubled, but always with a +golden future before it that almost bewildered the eyes. And what am I +to say of your goodness, so unvarying and constant; and your +thoughtfulness; and your great unselfishness and outspokenness? When was +there the least misunderstanding between us? I could read your heart +like my own. Only once, you remember, was there a chance of a shadow +coming between us—through my own folly; and yet perhaps it was only +natural for a girl, fancying that everything was going to be smooth and +happy in her life, to look back on what she had said in times of +trouble, and to be afraid of having spoken with too little reserve. But +then you refused to have even the slightest lovers' quarrel; you laughed +away my folly. Do you wonder if I was more than ever glad that I had +given my life into your wise and generous guidance? And it is not now, +when I am speaking to you for the last time, that I can regret having +let you know what my feelings were toward you. Oh, my darling! you must +not imagine, because these words that I am writing are cold and formal, +that my heart beats any the less quickly when I think of you and the +days we were together. I said to you that I loved you; I say to <!-- Page 404 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_404" id="Page_404">[Pg 404]</a></span>you now +that I love you with my whole heart, and I have no feeling of shame. If +you were here, I would look into your face and repeat it—I think +without a blush; I would kiss you; I would tell you that I honor you; +that I had looked forward to giving you all the trust and affection and +devotion of a wife. That is because I have faith in you; my soul is open +and clear to you; read, and if you can find there anything but +admiration for your nobleness of heart, and earnest hopes for your +happiness, and gratitude to you for all your kindness, then, and not +otherwise, shall I have cause for shame.</p> + +<p>"Now I have to send you my last word of good-bye—"</p> + +<p>[She had borne up so far; but now she put the pen aside, and bent her +head down on to her hands, and her frame was shaken with her sobbing. +When she resumed, she could scarcely see for the bitter tears that kept +welling her eyes.]</p> + +<p>"—and you think, looking at these cold words on the paper, that it was +easy for me to do so. It has not been so easy. I pray God to bless you, +and keep you brave and true and unselfish, and give you happiness in the +success of your work. And I ask a line from you in reply—not sad, but +something that I may look at from time to time, and that will make me +believe you have plenty of interests and hopes in the world, and that +you do not altogether regret that you and I met, and were friends, for a +time.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">NATALIE."</span><br /> +</p> + + +<p>This was a strange thing: she took another sheet of paper, and slowly +and with a trembling hand wrote on it these words, "<i>Your Wife</i>." That +was all. No doubt it was the signature she had hoped one day to use. She +regarded it long, and earnestly, and sadly, until, indeed, she could not +see it for the tears that rose afresh into her eyes. Then she tore up +the piece of paper hastily, folded her letter and addressed it, without +sealing the envelope, and carried it into the other room.</p> + +<p>"Read it mother," she said; and she turned to the window to conceal her +tear-stained face.</p> + +<p>The mother opened the letter and glanced at it.</p> + +<p>"You forget, child," she said. "I know so little English. Tell me what +it is you have written."</p> + +<p>So she was forced to turn; and apparently, as she spoke, she was quite +calm; but there was a darkness underneath her eyes, and there was in her +look something of the worn, sad expression of her mother's face. Briefly +and simply she repeated the substance of the letter, giving no reasons +or <!-- Page 405 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_405" id="Page_405">[Pg 405]</a></span>justifications. She seemed to take it for granted that her decision +was unavoidable, and would be seen to be so by every one.</p> + +<p>"Natalushka," the mother said, looking anxiously at the troubled face, +"do you know what you are about to do? It is an act of expiation for +something you have not committed."</p> + +<p>"Could I do otherwise?" she said. "You, mother: would you have me think +of a marriage procured through my father's death? It is too horrible!"</p> + +<p>The mother went to her, and took her two hands.</p> + +<p>"My poor child, are you to have no happier life than I have had, after +all? When I used to see you, I used to say to myself, 'Ah, my little +Natalushka will never know what has befallen me—she will have a happy +life!' I could see you laughing as you walked in the gardens there. You +looked so pleased, so content, so bright and cheerful. And now you also +are to have a life of disappointment and sad memories—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you must not talk like that, mother," the girl said, hastily, in a +low voice. "Have I not you with me? We shall always be together, shall +we not? And you know we shall not have time for brooding over what is +past; we shall have much to do; we must make a pleasant small home +somewhere. Oh, there are many, many people far worse off in the world +than we are. So you must think of getting away from Naples, mother; and +think of where you would like to live, and where I should be most likely +to be able to earn a little. The years will teach us to +forget—and—and— And now you know why I do not wish to go back to +England."</p> + +<p>Her eyes were cast down, but she was forcing herself to speak quite +cheerfully.</p> + +<p>"You see, mother, my knowing English is a great advantage. If we were to +go to one of the towns on the Riviera, like Nice or Mentone, where so +many English families are, one might get pupils who would want to learn +English songs as well as Italian and German—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, Natalushka; but I am not going to have you slave for me. The +little allowance that my cousins send me will do very well for us two, +though you will not get so fine dresses. Then, you see, Natalushka, +Mentone or Nice would be a dear place to live in."</p> + +<p>"Very well, mother," said the girl, with the same apparent cheerfulness, +"I will go down and post my letter, and at the same time get the loan of +a guide book. Then we shall study <!-- Page 406 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_406" id="Page_406">[Pg 406]</a></span>the maps, and pick out a nice, quiet, +remote little place, where we can live—and forget."</p> + +<p>The last two words were uttered to herself as she opened the door and +went out. She sighed a little as she went down the staircase—that was +all; she was thinking of things very far away. She passed into the hall, +and went to the bureau for some postage-stamps. As she stood there, some +one, unperceived, came up to her: it was Calabressa.</p> + +<p>"Little daughter," said he, in a trembling voice.</p> + +<p>She uttered a slight cry, and shrunk back.</p> + +<p>"Little daughter," said he, holding out his hand.</p> + +<p>But some strange instinct possessed her. She could not avoid touching +his hand—or the tips of his fingers, rather—for one brief second; then +she turned away from him with an involuntary shudder, and went back +through <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: "she" in the original text"> +the</ins> hall, her head bent down. Calabressa +stood looking after her for a moment or two, then he turned and left the +hotel.</p> + +<p>He walked quickly: there were tears running down his face. He looked +neither to the right nor to the left; he was talking in a broken voice +to himself; he repeated again and again, "No, she shall not turn away +from me. She will be sorry for that soon. She will say she should not +have crushed the heart of her old friend Calabressa."</p> + +<p>He walked out to Posilipo. Near the villa where he had formerly sought +the representatives of the Council he passed an old woman who was +selling fruit by the roadside. She glanced up at him, and said,</p> + +<p>"The door is closed, signore."</p> + +<p>"The door must be opened, good mother," said he, scarcely regarding her +as he hurried on.</p> + +<p>Arrived in the garden of the villa, his summons brought out to the +entrance of the grotto the Secretary Granaglia, who somewhat impatiently +told him that it was quite impossible that any member of the Council +should see him.</p> + +<p>"And no doubt it is about that Lind affair?"</p> + +<p>"Indirectly only," Calabressa said. "No, it concerns myself mostly."</p> + +<p>"Quite enough time, the Council think, has been given to the Lind +affair. I can tell you, my friend, there are more important matters +stirring. Now, farewell; I am wanted within."</p> + +<p>However, by dint of much persuasion, Calabressa got Granaglia to take in +a message to Von Zoesch. And, sure enough, his anticipations were +correct; the good-natured, <!-- Page 407 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_407" id="Page_407">[Pg 407]</a></span>bluff old soldier made his appearance, and +seemed glad to get a breath of fresh air for a minute or two.</p> + +<p>"Well, well, Calabressa, what is it now? Are you not all satisfied? the +young lady with her sweetheart, and all that? You rogue! you guessed +pretty rightly; to tell them the news was no light matter; but by-and-by +she will become reconciled. Her lover is to be envied; she is a +beautiful child, and she has courage. Well, are they not satisfied?"</p> + +<p>"I crave your pardon, Excellency, for intruding upon you," Calabressa +said, in a sort of constrained voice. "It is my own affair that brings +me here. I shall not waste your time. Your Excellency, I claim to be +substitute for Ferdinand Lind."</p> + +<p>The tall soldier burst out laughing.</p> + +<p>"What the devil is the matter with you, Calabressa; have you gone mad?"</p> + +<p>For a second Calabressa stood silent; his eyes downcast; his fingers +working nervously with the cap he held in his hands.</p> + +<p>"Your Excellency," he said, as if struggling to repress some emotion, +"it is a simple matter. I have been to see the beautiful child you speak +of; I addressed her, in the hall of the hotel; she turned away from me, +shuddering, as if I were a murderer—from me, who loves her more than I +love life. Oh, your Excellency, do not smile at it; it is not a girlish +caprice; she has a noble heart; it is not a little thing that would make +her cruel. I know what she thinks—that I have been the means of +procuring her father's death. Be it so. I will give her father his life +again. Take mine—what do I care?"</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, nonsense, my Calabressa. The girl has bewitched you. One must +talk to her. Take your life in exchange for that of Lind? Pooh! We +cannot send good men after bad; you are too valuable to us; whereas he, +if he were released, could be of no more use at all. It is a generous +notion on your part, friend Calabressa, but it is quixotic; moreover, +impossible."</p> + +<p>"You forget, Excellency, that I can claim it," said Calabressa, firmly. +"Under Article V. I can claim to be the substitute of Ferdinand Lind. +Your Excellency yourself has not the power to refuse me. I call upon you +to release Lind from the death-penalty: to-morrow I will take his place; +then you can send a message to—to Natalie Berezolyi's daughter, that, +if I have wronged her, I have made amends."</p> + +<p>Von Zoesch grew more serious; he eyed Calabressa curi<!-- Page 408 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_408" id="Page_408">[Pg 408]</a></span>ously. The elder +man stood there trembling a little with nervous excitement, but with a +firm look on his face: there was no doubt about his resolve.</p> + +<p>"Friend Calabressa," said Von Zoesch, in a kindly way, "it seems as if +you had transferred your old love for Natalie Berezolyi to Natalie's +daughter, only with double intensity; but, you see, we must not allow +you to sacrifice yourself merely because a girl turns her heel on you. +It is not to be thought <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: Missing "." added to the original text"> +of.</ins> We cannot afford +to lose you; besides, it is monstrous that the innocent should suffer, +and the guilty go free—"</p> + +<p>"The articles of the Society, your Excellency—"</p> + +<p>"That particular article, my Calabressa, was framed with a view to +encourage self-sacrifice and generosity, no doubt, but not with a view, +surely, to any such extreme madness as this. No. The fact is, I had no +time to explain the circumstances of the case to the young lady, or I +could easily have shown her how you were no more involved than herself +in procuring the decree against her father. To-day I cannot; to-morrow I +cannot; the day after to-morrow, I solemnly assure you, I will see her, +and reason with her, and convince her that you have acted throughout as +her best friend only could have done. You are too sensitive, my +Calabressa: ah, is it not the old romance recalled that is making you +so? But this I promise you, that she shall beg your pardon for having +turned away from you."</p> + +<p>"Then," said Calabressa, with a little touch of indignant pride, "then +your Excellency imagines that it is my vanity that has been wounded?"</p> + +<p>"No; it is your heart. And she will be sorry for having pained a true +friend: is not that as it should be? Why, your proposal, if she agreed +to it, what would be the result? You would stab her with remorse. For +this momentary slight you would say, 'See, I have killed myself. Learn +now that Calabressa loved you.' But that would be very like revenge, my +Calabressa; and you ought not to think of taking revenge on the daughter +of Natalie Berezolyi."</p> + +<p>"Your Excellency—"</p> + +<p>Calabressa was about to protest: but he was stopped.</p> + +<p>"Leave it to me, my friend. The day after to-morrow we shall have more +leisure. Meanwhile, no more thoughts of quixotism. <i>Addio!</i>"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><!-- Page 409 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_409" id="Page_409">[Pg 409]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LVIII" id="CHAPTER_LVIII"></a>CHAPTER LVIII.</h2> + +<h3>A SACRIFICE.</h3> + + +<p>It would be difficult to say whether Calabressa was altogether sincere +in claiming to become the substitute for Ferdinand Lind, or whether he +was not practising a little self-deception, and pacifying his wounded +pride and affection by this outburst of generosity, while secretly +conscious that his offer would not be accepted. However, what Calabressa +had declared himself ready to do, in a fit of wild sentimentalism, +another had already done, in terrible earnest. A useless life had +suddenly become ennobled by a tragic and self-sacrificing death.</p> + +<p>Two days after Lord Evelyn left for Naples, Brand and Gathorne Edwards +were as usual in the chambers in Lisle Street, and, the business of the +morning being mostly over, they were chatting together. There was a +brighter look on George Brand's face than there had been there for many +a day.</p> + +<p>"What an indefatigable fellow that Molyneux is!" Edwards was saying.</p> + +<p>"It is a good thing some one can do something," Brand answered. "As for +me, I can't settle down to anything. I feel as if I had been living on +laughing-gas these last two days. I feel as if I had come alive again +into another world, and was a little bit bewildered just as yet. +However, I suppose we shall get shaken into our new positions by-and-by; +and the sooner they let us know their final arrangements the better."</p> + +<p>"As for me," said Edwards, carelessly, "now that I have left <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: Repeated "the" deleted from the original text"> +the</ins> Museum I don't care where I may have to +go."</p> + +<p>At this moment a note was brought in by the old German, and handed to +Edwards. He glanced at the straggling, almost illegible, address in +pencil on the dirty envelope.</p> + +<p>"Well, this is too bad," he said, impatiently.</p> + +<p>"What is it?"</p> + +<p>"That fellow Kirski. He is off again. I can see by his writing. He never +was very good at it; but this is the handwriting of delirium tremens."</p> + +<p>He opened the letter, and glanced at the first page.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes," he said, in disgust, "he's off again, clearly."</p> + +<p>"What does he say?"</p> + +<p>"The usual rigmarole—only not quite so legible. <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: Uncapitalized word in the original text corrected">The</ins> +<!-- Page 410 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_410" id="Page_410">[Pg 410]</a> +</span>beautiful angel who was so kind to him—he has taken +her portrait from its hiding-place—it is sacred now—no more public +house—well, it looks rather as if he had been to several."</p> + +<p>At this point, however, Edwards's pale, high forehead flushed a little.</p> + +<p>"I wish I had not told him; but he speaks of Miss Lind being in +trouble—and he says God never meant one so beautiful and kind as she to +be in trouble—and if her father—"</p> + +<p>His face grew grave.</p> + +<p>"What is this?"</p> + +<p>He turned the leaf suddenly, and glanced at the remainder of the letter.</p> + +<p>"Good God! what does the man mean? What has he done?" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>His face was quite pale. The letter dropped from his hands. Then he +jumped to his feet.</p> + +<p>"Come, Brand—quick—quick!" he said, hurriedly. "You must come with +me—"</p> + +<p>"But what is the matter?" Brand said, following him in amazement.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said Edwards, almost incoherently. "He may be raving—it +may only be drunkenness—but he says he is about to kill himself in +place of Lind: the young lady shall not be troubled—she was kind to +him, and he is grateful. I am to send her a message."</p> + +<p>By this time the two friends were hurrying to the dingy little +thoroughfare in which Kirski had his lodgings.</p> + +<p>"Don't alarm yourself, Edwards," said Brand; "he has broken out again, +that is all."</p> + +<p>"I am not so sure. He was at his work yesterday, and sober enough."</p> + +<p>"His brain may have given way, then; it was never very strong. But these +continual ravings about murder or suicide are dangerous; they will +develop into homicidal mania, most likely; and if he cannot get at his +enemy Michaieloff he may do a mischief to somebody else."</p> + +<p>"I hope he has not done a mischief to himself already," said Edwards, +who had had more opportunities than his companion of studying the +workings of Kirski's disordered brain.</p> + +<p>They reached the house and knocked at the door. The landlady made her +appearance.</p> + +<p>"Is Kirski in the house?" Edwards asked, eagerly.</p> + +<p>"No, he ain't," she said, with but scant courtesy.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 411 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_411" id="Page_411">[Pg 411]</a></span></p><p>"Thank God!" he exclaimed, in great relief. "You are sure? He went out +to his work as usual?"</p> + +<p>"How should I know?" said the woman, who was evidently not on good terms +with her lodger.</p> + +<p>"He had his breakfast as usual?"</p> + +<p>"His breakfast!" she said scornfully. "No, he hadn't. He may pick up his +breakfast about the streets, like a cat; but he don't have any 'ere. And +a cat he is, sneaking up and down the stairs: how do I know whether he +is in the house or whether he ain't?"</p> + +<p>At this Edwards turned pale again with a sudden fear. Brand interposed.</p> + +<p>"You don't know? Then show us his room; we will see for ourselves."</p> + +<p>He passed the woman, leaving her to shut the door, and went into the +small dark passage, waiting for her at the foot of the stairs. Grumbling +to herself, she came along to show them the way. It did not pay her to +waste her time like this, she said, for a lodger who took no food in the +house, and spent his earnings in the gin-shop. She should not be +surprised if they were to find him asleep at that time of the day. He +had ways like a cat.</p> + +<p>The landing they reached was as dark as the staircase; so that when she +turned a handle and flung a door open there was a sudden glare of light. +At the same moment she uttered a shrill scream, and retreated backward. +She had caught a glimpse of some horrible thing—she hardly knew what. +It was the body of the man Kirski lying prone upon the uncarpeted floor, +his hands clinched. There was a dark pool of blood beside him.</p> + +<p>Edwards sunk shuddering into a chair, sick and faint. He could neither +move nor speak; he dared hardly look at the object lying there in the +wan light. But Brand went quickly forward, and took hold of one of these +clinched hands. It was quite cold. He tried to turn over the body, but +relinquished that effort. The cause of death was obvious enough. Kirski +had stabbed himself with one of the tools used in his trade; either he +had deliberately lain down on the floor to make sure of driving the +weapon home, or he had accidentally fallen so after dealing himself the +fatal blow. Apparently he had been dead for some hours.</p> + +<p>Brand rose. The landlady at the door was alternately screaming and +sobbing; declaring that she was ruined; that not another lodger would +come to her house.</p> + +<p>"Be quiet, woman, and send to the police-station at once," <!-- Page 412 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_412" id="Page_412">[Pg 412]</a></span>Brand said. +"Wait a moment: when did you last see this man?"</p> + +<p>"This morning, sir—early this morning, sir," said she, in a profusion +of tears over her prospective loss. "He came down-stairs with a letter +in his hand, and there was twopence for my little boy to take it when he +came home from school. How should I know he had gone back, sir, to make +away with himself like that, and ruin a poor widow woman, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Have you a servant in the house?"</p> + +<p>"No sir; no one but myself—and me dependent—"</p> + +<p>"Then go at once to the police-station, and tell the inspector on duty +what has happened. You can do that, can't you? You will do no good by +standing crying there, or getting the neighbors in. I will stop here +till you come back."</p> + +<p>She went away, leaving Brand and his paralyzed companion with this +ghastly object lying prone on the floor.</p> + +<p>"Poor devil!" Brand said; "his troubles are at an end now. I wonder +whether I should lift him on to the bed, or wait until they come."</p> + +<p>Then another thought struck him: and he turned quickly to his companion, +who sat there horrified and helpless.</p> + +<p>"Edwards," said he, "you must pull yourself together. The police will +ask you what you know about this affair. Then you will have to give +evidence before the coroner's inquest. There is nothing material for you +to conceal; but still, no mention must be made of Lisle Street, do you +understand?"</p> + +<p>Edwards nodded. His face was of a ghastly white. Then he rose and said,</p> + +<p>"Let us go somewhere else, Brand."</p> + +<p>His companion took him down-stairs into the landlady's parlor, and got +him a glass of water. Apparently there was not a human being in the +house but themselves.</p> + +<p>"Do you understand, Edwards? Give your private address—not Lisle +Street. Then you can tell the story simply enough: that unfortunate +fellow came all the way from Russia—virtually a maniac—you can tell +them his story if you like; or shall I?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes. It has been too much for me, Brand. You see, I had no +business to tell him about Lind—"</p> + +<p>"The poor wretch would have ended his days miserably anyhow, no doubt in +a mad-house, and probably after killing some quite innocent person. +By-the-way, they will ask you how you came to suspect. Where is that +letter?"</p> + +<p>Edwards took it from his pocket.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 413 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_413" id="Page_413">[Pg 413]</a></span></p><p>"Tear it up."</p> + +<p>He did so; but Brand took the fragments and put them in his own pocket.</p> + +<p>"You can tell them he wrote to you, and from the madness of the letter +you thought something was wrong. You destroyed the letter. But where is +Natalie's portrait?—that must not fall into their hands."</p> + +<p>He instantly went up-stairs again, leaving his companion alone. There +was something strange in his entering this room where the corpse lay; it +seemed necessary for him to walk on tiptoe: he uncovered his head. A +glance round the almost empty room speedily showed him what he wanted; +there was a small wooden casket in a dusky corner by the window, and +that, he made no doubt, was the box the unhappy Kirski had made to +contain Natalie's portrait, and that he had quite recently dug out from +its place of concealment. Brand was surprised, however, to find the +casket empty. Then he glanced at the fireplace; there was a little dust +there, as of burnt card-board. Then he made sure that Kirski himself had +taken steps to prevent the portrait falling into alien hands.</p> + +<p>Beside the box, however, lay a piece of paper, written over in pencil. +He took it up and made out it was chiefly ill-spelled Italian: +"<i>Whatever punishment may be decreed against any Officer, Companion, or +Friend of the Society, may be vicariously borne by any other Officer, +Companion, or Friend, who, of his own full and free consent, acts as +substitute—the original offender becoming thereby redeemed, acquitted, +and released.</i>" Then followed some words which he could not make out at +all.</p> + +<p>He carried the paper down-stairs.</p> + +<p>"He appears to have burnt the photograph, Edwards; but he has left +this—see."</p> + +<p>Edwards glanced at the trembling scrawl with a slight shiver; the +handwriting was the same as that he had received half an hour before.</p> + +<p>"It is only Article V.," he said. "The poor fellow used to keep +repeating that, after Calabressa and I taught him in Venice."</p> + +<p>"But what is written below?"</p> + +<p>Edwards forced himself to take the paper in his hands, and to scan more +carefully its contents.</p> + +<p>"It is Russian," he said, "but so badly written. '<i>My life is not +endurable longer, but I shall die happy in being of service to the +beautiful angel who was kind to me. Tell her she need not <!-- Page 414 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_414" id="Page_414">[Pg 414]</a></span>be in trouble +any more. I forgive Pavel Michaieloff, as my masters desire. I do not +wish my wife or my neighbors to know what I have done.</i>'"</p> + +<p>"This we have no right to meddle with," Brand said, thoughtfully. "I +will put it back where I got it. But you see, Edwards, you will have to +admit that you were aware this poor wretch was in communication with +some secret society or other. Further than that you need say nothing. +The cause of his suicide is clear enough; the man was mad when he came +to England with that wild craving for revenge in his brain."</p> + +<p>Brand carried the paper up-stairs again, and placed it where he had +found it. At the same moment there was a sound of footsteps below; and +presently the police-officers, accompanied by the landlady and by +Gathorne Edwards, who had somewhat recovered his composure, entered to +hold their preliminary investigation. The notes that the inspector took +down in his pocket-book were brief enough, and were mostly answers to +questions addressed to Brand, regarding what he knew of the deceased +man's circumstances. The police-surgeon had meanwhile had the body +placed on the bed; he also was of opinion that the man had been dead +some hours. Edwards translated for the inspector the writing on the +paper found lying there, and said he believed Kirski had some connection +with a secret society, but that it was obvious he had destroyed himself +from despair; and that, indeed, the unhappy man had never been properly +right in his mind since ever he had known him, though they had hoped, by +getting him to do steady work and sure wages, to wean him away from +brooding over the wrongs that had driven him from his native country. +Edwards gave the officer his address, Brand saying that he had to leave +England that same night, and would not be available for any further +inquiry, but that his friend knew precisely as much about the case as +himself. Then he and his companion left.</p> + +<p>Edwards breathed more freely when he got out of the house, even into the +murky atmosphere of Soho.</p> + +<p>"It is a tragic end," he said, "but perhaps it is the best that could +have befallen him. I called yesterday at the shop, and found he was +there, and sober, though I did not see him. I was surprised to find he +had gone back."</p> + +<p>"I thought he had solemnly promised you not to drink any more," Brand +said.</p> + +<p>"He had made the same promises before. He took to drink merely to +forget—to drown this thing that was working <!-- Page 415 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_415" id="Page_415">[Pg 415]</a></span>in his brain. If he had +lived, it would have been the old story over again. He would have buried +the portrait in St. James's Park, as he did before, gone back to the +gin-shop, and in course of time drank himself to death. This end is +terrible enough, but there is a touch of something fine about it—it +redeems much. What a worship the poor fellow had for Miss Lind, to be +sure; because she was kind to him when he was half mad with his wrongs. +I remember he used to go about the churches in Venice to see if any of +the saints in the pictures were like her, but none satisfied him. You +will send her a message of what he has done to repay her at last?"</p> + +<p>"I will take it myself," said Brand, hastily. "I must go, Edwards. You +must get —— or —— to come to these chambers—any one you may think +of. I must go myself, and at once."</p> + +<p>"To-night, then?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: "to night" in the original text"> +to-night.</ins> It is a pity I troubled Evelyn to go."</p> + +<p>"He would stay a day, perhaps two days, in Genoa. It is just possible +you might overtake him by going straight through."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Brand, with a strange smile on his face, as if he were +looking at something far away, and it was scarcely to his companion that +he spoke, "I think I will go straight through. I should not like any one +but myself to take Natalie this news."</p> + +<p>They walked back to the chambers, and Brand began to put things in order +for his going.</p> + +<p>"It is rather a shame," he said, during this business, "for one to be +glad that this poor wretch has come to such an end; but what better +could have happened to him, as you say? You will see about a decent +funeral, Edwards; and I will leave you something to stop the mouth of +that caterwauling landlady. You can tell them at the inquest that he has +no relations in this country."</p> + +<p>By-and-by he said,</p> + +<p>"If there are any debts, I will pay them; and if no one has any +objection I should like to have that casket, to show to—to Miss Lind. +Did you see the carving on it?"</p> + +<p>"I looked at it."</p> + +<p>"He must have spent many a night working at that. Poor wretch, I wish I +had looked after him more, and done more for him. One always feels that +when people are dead, and it is too late."</p> + +<p>"I don't see how you could have done more for him," Ed<!-- Page 416 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_416" id="Page_416">[Pg 416]</a></span>wards said, +honestly enough: though indeed it was he himself who had been Kirski's +chief protector of late.</p> + +<p>Before evening came Brand had put affairs in proper trim for his +departure, and he left London with a lighter heart than had been his for +a long time. But ever and anon, as he journeyed to the south, with a +wonderful picture of joy and happiness before him, his mind would wander +away back to the little room in Soho, and he could see the unhappy +Russian lying dead, with the message left behind for the beautiful angel +who had been kind to him; and he could not but think that Kirski would +have died happier if he had known that Natalie herself would come some +day and put flowers, tenderly and perhaps even with tears, on his grave. +Who that knew her could doubt but that that would be her first act on +returning to England? At least, Brand thought so.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LIX" id="CHAPTER_LIX"></a>CHAPTER LIX.</h2> + +<h3>NATALIE SPEAKS.</h3> + + +<p>It was about five in the morning, and as yet dark, when George Brand +arrived in Naples. He wrote a note asking Calabressa to call on him, and +left it to be despatched by the porter of the hotel; then he lay down +for an hour or two, without undressing, for he was somewhat fatigued +with his continuous travelling.</p> + +<p>On going down to breakfast he got Calabressa's answer, saying he was +very sorry he could not obey the commands of his dear friend Monsieur +Brand, because he was on duty; but that he could be found, if Monsieur +Brand would have the goodness to seek out the wine-vaults of one +Tommaso, in the Vicolo Isotta. There, also, Monsieur Brand would see +some others.</p> + +<p>Accordingly, after breakfast Brand set out, leisurely and observantly, +for he did not think there was any great hurry. It was a beautiful, +brisk, breezy morning, though occasionally a squall of rain swept across +the roughened sea, blotting out Capri altogether. There were crisp +gleams of white on the far plain, and there was a dazzling mist of +sunlight and sea-foam where the waves sprung high on the rocks of the +citadel; and even here in the busy streets there was a fresh sea-odor as +the gusts of the damp wind blew along. Naples was alive and busy, but +Brand regarded this swarming popu<!-- Page 417 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_417" id="Page_417">[Pg 417]</a></span>lation with but little interest. He +knew that none of his friends would be out and abroad so early.</p> + +<p>In due time he found out the gloomy little court and the wine-vaults. +Moreover, he had no trouble with the ghoul-like Tommaso, who had +apparently received his instructions. No sooner had Brand inquired for +Calabressa than he was invited to follow his guide, who waddled along, +candle in hand, like some over-grown orang-outang. At length they +reached the staircase, where there was a little more light, and here he +found Calabressa waiting to receive him. Calabressa seemed overjoyed.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, my dear Monsieur Brand, you have arrived opportunely. You +also will remonstrate with that beautiful child for having fallen out +with her old friend Calabressa. Think of it! one who would wear his +knees out to serve her; and when I go to the hotel—"</p> + +<p>"One word, Calabressa," said Brand, as he followed him into a small +empty room. "Tell me, is Lind in Naples?"</p> + +<p>"Assuredly. He has petitioned for a year's grace: he wishes to join the +Montenegrins."</p> + +<p>"He will have more than a year's grace," said Brand, gravely. "Something +has happened. You remember the man Kirski? Well, he has killed himself +to release Lind."</p> + +<p>"Just Heaven!" Calabressa exclaimed; but the exclamation was one of +astonishment, not in the least of regret. On the contrary, he began to +speak in tones of exultation.</p> + +<p>"Ah, let us hear now what the beautiful child will say! For who was it +that reclaimed that savage animal, and taught him the beautifulness of +self-sacrifice, and showed him how the most useless life could be made +serviceable and noble? Who but I? He was my pupil: I first watched the +light of virtue beginning to radiate through his savage nature. That is +what I will ask the beautiful Natalushka when I see her. Perhaps she +will not again turn away from an old friend—"</p> + +<p>"You seem to forget, Calabressa, that your teaching has brought this man +to his death," Brand said.</p> + +<p>"Why not?" said Calabressa, with a perfectly honest stare. "Why not? Was +it not well done? Was it not a fitting end? Why I, even I, who watched +him long, did not expect to see that: his savagery falling away from him +bit by bit; himself rising to this grand height, that he should give his +life to save another: I tell you it is a beautiful thing; he has +understood what I taught him; he has seen clear."</p> + +<p>Calabressa was much excited, and very proud. It seemed <!-- Page 418 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_418" id="Page_418">[Pg 418]</a></span>to him that he +had saved a soul as he remarked in his ornate French.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it has all happened for the best," Brand said; "perhaps it was +the best that could have befallen that poor devil, too. But you are +mistaken, Calabressa, about his reasons for giving up his life like +that. It was not for the sake of a theory at all, admirable as your +teachings may have been; it was for the sake of Natalie Lind. He heard +she was in trouble, and he learned the cause of it. It was gratitude to +her—it was love for her—that made him do this."</p> + +<p>Calabressa changed his ground in an instant.</p> + +<p>"Assuredly—assuredly, my dear friend: do you think I fail to understand +that—I, who perceived that he worshipped that beautiful child as if she +were a saint, and more than all the saints—do you think I cannot mark +that—the sentiment of love, the fervor of worship, growing brighter and +purer day by day until it burst into the beautiful flame of +self-sacrifice? My faith! this must be told at once. Remain here a few +moments, my dear Mr. Brand. This is news indeed."</p> + +<p>"Wait a bit, Calabressa. I came to you to get the name of Natalie's +hotel: and where is Lord Evelyn?"</p> + +<p>"One moment—one moment," said the old albino, as he went out and shut +the door behind him.</p> + +<p>When Calabressa ceased to talk in French, he ceased to use roundabout +literary sentimental metaphors; and his report, delivered in the next +room, would appear to have been brief enough; for almost immediately he +returned, accompanied by Von Zoesch, to whom Brand was introduced.</p> + +<p>"I am honored in making your acquaintance," the tall soldier said, in a +pleasant way. "I have heard much of you; you are a good worker; likewise +you do not flinch when a duty is demanded of you. Perhaps, if you would +only condescend to re-enforce the treasury sometimes, the Council would +be still further grateful to you. However, we are not to become beggars +at a first interview—and that a short one, necessarily—for to-day we +start for Genoa."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry for that," Brand said, simply. "There were some +representations I wished to lay before the Council—some very serious +representations."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps some other time, then. In the meanwhile, our hands are full. +And that reminds me that the news you bring makes one of my tasks to-day +a pleasant one. Yes, I remember something of that maniac-fellow babbling +about a saint and an angel—I heard of it. So it was your beautiful Miss +Lind who was the saint and the angel? Well, do you <!-- Page 419 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_419" id="Page_419">[Pg 419]</a></span>know that I was +about to give that young lady a very good scolding to-day?"</p> + +<p>Brand flushed quickly. The authority of the Council had no terrors for +him where Natalie was concerned.</p> + +<p>"I beg to remind you," he said, respectfully but firmly, "that the fact +of Miss Lind's father being connected with the Society gives no one the +right to intermeddle in her private affairs—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, but, my dear sir," said Von Zoesch laughing. "I have ample right. +Her mother Natalie and I are very old friends indeed. You have not seen +the charming young lady, then, since your arrival?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Excellent—excellent! You shall come and hear the scolding I have to +give her. Oh, I assure you it will not harm her much. Calabressa will +bring you along to the Villa Odelschalchi, eleven sharp. We must not +keep a lady—two ladies, indeed—waiting, after making an appointment."</p> + +<p>He rose from the plain wooden chair on which he had been sitting; and +his visitor had to rise also. But Brand stood reluctant to go, and his +brows were drawn down.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon," said he, "but if you are so busy, why not depute +some friend of the young lady to carry her a message? A girl is easily +frightened."</p> + +<p>"No, no, my dear sir; having made an appointment, must we not keep it? +Come, I shall expect you to make one of the party; it will be a pleasant +little comedy before we go to more serious matters. <i>Au revoir!</i>" He +bowed slightly, and withdrew.</p> + +<p>Some little time afterward Brand, Evelyn, and Calabressa were driving +along the rough streets in an open carriage. The presence of Lord Evelyn +had been a last concession obtained from General von Zoesch by +Calabressa.</p> + +<p>"Why not?" Von Zoesch had said, good-naturedly; "he is one of us. +Besides, there is nothing of importance at Portici. It is a little +family party; it is a little comedy before we go to Genoa."</p> + +<p>As they rattled along, Lord Evelyn was very talkative and joyous. He had +seen Natalie the evening before, within an hour after his arrival. He +was laughing at Brand for fearing she might have been induced to go to +some wretched inn.</p> + +<p>"I myself, did I not say to you it was a beautiful hotel?" said +Calabressa, with a hurt air. "The most beautiful view in Naples."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 420 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_420" id="Page_420">[Pg 420]</a></span></p> +<p>"I think, after what she will hear to-day," said Evelyn, <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: Missing quote added to the original text"> +"she</ins> ought to ask us to dine there. That would be an English +way of finishing up all her trials and troubles." But he turned to +Calabressa with a graver look. "What about Lind? Will they reinstate him +now? Will they send him back to England?"</p> + +<p>"Reinstate him in office?" said Calabressa, with a scornful smile. "My +faith, no! Neither him nor Beratinsky. They will give them letters to +Montenegro: isn't it enough?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I think so. And Reitzei?"</p> + +<p>"Reitzei has been stationed at Brindisi—one of our moral police; and +lucky for him also."</p> + +<p>When they arrived at the Villa Odelschalchi they were shown into a +little anteroom where they found Granaglia, and he was introduced to the +two strangers.</p> + +<p>"Who have come?" Calabressa said, in a low voice.</p> + +<p>The little sallow-faced Secretary smiled.</p> + +<p>"Several Brothers of the Council," he said. "They wish to see this young +lady who has turned so many heads. You, for example, my Calabressa, are +mad with regard to her. Well, they pay her a compliment. It is the first +time any woman has been in the presence of the Council."</p> + +<p>At this moment Von Zoesch came in, and hastily threw aside his +travelling-cloak.</p> + +<p>"Come, my friends," said he, and he took them with him, leaving +Granaglia to receive the ladies when they should arrive.</p> + +<p>The lofty and spacious apartment they now entered, on the other side of +the corridor, was apparently one of a suite of rooms facing the sea. Its +walls were decorated in Pompeian fashion, with simulated trellis-work, +and plenty of birds, beasts, and fishes about; but the massive curtains +and spreading chandeliers were all covered over as if the house had not +been inhabited for some time. All that was displayed of the furniture of +the chambers were some chairs of blue satin, with white and gold backs +and legs; and these looked strange enough, seeing that they were placed +irregularly round an oblong, rough deal table, which looked as if it had +just come from the workshop of some neighboring carpenter. At or near +this table several men, nearly all elderly, were sitting, talking +carelessly to each other; one of them, indeed, at the farthermost +corner, was a venerable patriarch, who wore a large soft wide-awake over +his snow-white hair. At the head of the table sat the handsome, +pale-faced, Greek-looking man who has been mentioned as one Conventz. He +was writing <!-- Page 421 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_421" id="Page_421">[Pg 421]</a></span>a letter, but stopped when Brand and Evelyn were introduced +to him. Then Calabressa drew in some more of the gilt and blue chairs, +and they sat down close by.</p> + +<p>Brand kept anxiously looking toward the door. He had not long to wait. +When it opened, Granaglia appeared, conducting into the room two figures +dressed in black. These dark figures looked impressive in the great, +white, empty room.</p> + +<p>For a second Natalie stood bewildered and irresolute, seeing all these +faces turned to her; and when her eyes fell on her lover, she turned +deadly pale. But she went forward, along with her mother, to the two +chairs brought for them by Granaglia, and they sat down. The mother was +veiled. Natalie glanced at her lover again; there was a strange look in +his face, but not of pain or fear.</p> + +<p>"My dear young lady," said Von Zoesch, in his pleasantest way, "we have +nothing but good news to communicate to you, so you must not be alarmed. +You are among friends. We are going away to-day; we all wish to say +good-bye to you, and wish you a happy journey back to England; that is +all. But I will tell you that my first object in asking you to come here +was to give you a good rating; when you and I should have been alone +together I would have asked you if you had no consideration for old +friends, that you should have turned away from my colleague, Calabressa, +and wounded him grievously. I would have reminded you that it was not +he, but you yourself, who put the machinery in motion which secured your +father's righteous conviction."</p> + +<p>"I ask you to spare me, signore," the girl said, in a low and trembling +voice.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I am not now going to scold you, my dear young <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: Missing "." added to the original text"> +lady.</ins> I intended to have done so. I intended to have shown +you that you were wrong, and exceedingly ungrateful, and that you ought +to ask pardon of my friend Calabressa. However, it is all changed. You +need not fear him any more; you need not turn away from him. Your father +is pardoned, and free!"</p> + +<p>She looked up, uncertain, as if she had not heard aright.</p> + +<p>"I repeat: your father is pardoned, and free. You shall learn how and +why afterward. Meanwhile you have nothing before you, as I take it, but +to reap the reward of your bravery."</p> + +<p>She did not hear this last sentence. She had turned quickly to her +mother.</p> + +<p>"Mother, do you hear?" she said in a whisper.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, child: thank God!"</p> + +<p><!-- Page 422 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_422" id="Page_422">[Pg 422]</a></span></p><p>"Now, you see, my dear young lady," Von Zoesch continued, "it is not a +scolding, but good news I have given you; and nothing remains but that +you should bid us good-bye, and say you are not sorry you appealed to us +when you were in trouble, according to the advice of your good friend +Calabressa. See, I have brought here with me a gentleman whom you know, +and who will see you safe back to Naples, and to England; and another, +his companion, who is also, I understand, an old friend of yours: you +will have a pleasant party. Your father will be sent to join in a good +cause, where he may retrieve his name if he chooses; you and your +friends go back to England. So I may say that all your wishes are +gratified at last, and we have nothing now but to say good-bye!"</p> + +<p>The girl had been glancing timidly and nervously at the figures grouped +round the table, and her breast was heaving. She rose; perhaps it was to +enable herself to speak more freely; perhaps it was only out of +deference to those seated there.</p> + +<p>"No," she said, in a low voice, but it was heard clearly enough in the +silence. "I—I would say a word to you—whom I may not see again. Yes, I +thank you—from my heart; you have taken a great trouble away from my +life. I—I thank you; but there is something I would say."</p> + +<p>She paused for a second. She was very pale. She seemed to be nerving +herself for some effort; and, strangely enough, her mother's hand, +unseen, was stretched up to her, and she clasped it and held it tight. +It gave her courage.</p> + +<p>"It is true, I am only a girl; you are my elders, and you are men; but I +have known good and brave men who were not ashamed to listen to what a +woman thought was right; and it is as a woman that I speak to you," she +said; and her voice, low and timid as it was, had a strange, pathetic +vibration in it, that went to the heart. "I have suffered much of late. +I hope no other woman will ever suffer in the same way."</p> + +<p>Again she hesitated, but for the last time.</p> + +<p>"Oh, gentlemen, you who are so powerful, you who profess to seek only +mercy and justice and peace, why should you, also, follow the old, bad, +cruel ways, and stain yourselves with blood? Surely it is not for you, +the friends of the poor, the champions of the weak, the teachers of the +people, to rely on the weapon of the assassin! When you go to the world, +and seek for help and labor, surely you should go with clean hands—so +that the wives and the sisters and the daughters of those who may join +you may not have their lives made terrible to <!-- Page 423 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_423" id="Page_423">[Pg 423]</a></span>them. It is not a reign +of terror you would establish on the earth! For the sake of those who +have already joined you—for the sake of the far <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: "geater" in the original text"> +greater</ins> numbers who may yet be your associates—I implore you to +abandon these secret and dreadful means. Surely, gentlemen, the blessing +of Heaven is more likely to follow you and crown your work if you can +say to every man whom you ask to join you, 'You have women-folk around +you. They have tender consciences, perhaps; but we will ask of you +nothing that your sister or your wife or your daughter would not +approve.' Then good men will not be afraid of you; then brave men will +not have to stifle their conscience in serving you; and whether you +succeed or do not succeed, you will have walked in clear ways."</p> + +<p>Her mother felt that she was trembling; but her voice did not +tremble—beyond that pathetic thrill in it which was always there when +she was deeply moved.</p> + +<p>"I have to beg your pardon, sir," she said, addressing herself more +particularly to Von Zoesch, but scarcely daring to lift her eyes. +"But—but do not think that, when you have made everything smooth for a +woman's happiness, she can then think only of herself. She also may +think a little about others; and even with those who are nearest and +dearest to her, how can she bear to know that perhaps they may be +engaged in something dark and hidden, something terrible—not because it +involves danger but because it involves shame? Gentlemen, if you choose, +you can do this. I appeal to you. I implore you. If you do not seek the +co-operation of women—well, that is a light matter; you have our +sympathy and love and gratitude—at least you can pursue ways and means +of which women can approve; ways and means of which no one, man or +woman, needs be ashamed. How otherwise are you what you profess to +be—the lovers of what is just and true and merciful?"</p> + +<p>She sat down, still all trembling. She held her mother's hand. There was +a murmur of sympathy and admiration.</p> + +<p>Brand turned to Von Zoesch, and said, in a low voice,</p> + +<p>"You hear, sir? These are the representations I had wished to lay before +the Council. I have not a word to add."</p> + +<p>"We will consider by-and-by," said Von Zoesch, rising. "It is not a +great matter. Come to me in Genoa as you pass through."</p> + +<p>But the tall old gentleman with the long white hair had already risen +and gone round to where the girl sat, and put his hand on her shoulder.</p> + +<p>"My noble child, you have spoken well," said he, in a <!-- Page 424 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_424" id="Page_424">[Pg 424]</a></span>quavering, feeble +voice, "Forgive me that I come so near; my eyes are very weak now; and +you—you do not recognize me any more?"</p> + +<p>"Anton!" said the mother.</p> + +<p>"Child," said he, still addressing Natalie, "it is old Anton Pepczinski +who is speaking to you. But you are disturbed; and I have greatly +changed, no doubt. No matter. I have travelled a long way to bring you +my blessing, and I give it to you now: I shall not see you again in this +world. You were always brave and good; be that to the end; God has given +you a noble soul."</p> + +<p>She looked up, and something in her face told him that she had +recognized him, <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: Extra "," deleted from the original text"> +despite</ins> the changes time had made.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes," he said, in great delight; "you remember now that you used +to bring me tobacco for my pipe, and ask if I would fight for your +country; I can see it in your eyes, my child: you remember, then, the +old Anton Pepczinski who used to bring you sweet things? Now come and +take me to the English gentleman; I wish to speak to him. Tell me, does +he love you—does he understand you?"</p> + +<p>She was silent, and embarrassed.</p> + +<p>"No! you will not speak?" the old man said, laughing; "you cast your +eyes down again. See, now, how one changes! for in former days you made +love openly enough—oh yes!—to me, to me myself—oh, my dear, I can +remember. I can remember very well. I am not so old that I cannot +remember."</p> + +<p>Brand rose when he saw them coming. She regarded him earnestly for a +brief second or two, and said something to him in English in an +undertone, not understood by those standing round.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LX" id="CHAPTER_LX"></a>CHAPTER LX.</h2> + +<h3>NEW SHORES.</h3> + + +<p>The moonlight lay on the moving Atlantic, and filled the hollow world +with a radiance soft and gray and vague; but it struck sharp and white +on the polished rails and spars of this great steamer, and shone on the +long and shapely decks, and on the broad track of foam that went away +back and back and back until it was lost in the horizon. It was late; +and nearly all the passengers had gone below. In the silence there was +only heard the monotonous sound of the engines, and the con<!-- Page 425 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_425" id="Page_425">[Pg 425]</a></span>tinuous rush +and seething of the waters as the huge vessel clove its way onward.</p> + +<p>Out there by the rail, in the white light, Natalie Lind lay back in her +chair, all wrapped up in furs, and her lover was by her side, on a rug +on the deck, his hand placed over her hand.</p> + +<p>"To-morrow, then, Natalie," he was saying, "you will get your first +glimpse of America."</p> + +<p>"So you see I have procured your banishment after all," she said, with a +smile.</p> + +<p>"Not you," was the answer. "I had thought of it often. For a new life, a +new world; and it is a new life you and I are beginning together."</p> + +<p>Here the bell in the steering-room struck the half-hour; it was repeated +by the lookout forward. The sound was strange, in the silence.</p> + +<p>"Do you know," he said, after a while, "after we have done a fair share +of work, we might think ourselves entitled to rest; and what better +could we do than go back to England for a time, and go down to the old +place in Buckinghamshire? Then Mrs. Alleyne would be satisfied at last. +How proud the old dame was when she recognized you from your portrait! +She thought all her dreams had come true, and that there was nothing +left but to the Checkers and carry off that old cabinet as a wedding +present."</p> + +<p>"Natalie," he said, presently, "how is it that you always manage to do +the right thing at the right time? When Mrs. Alleyne took your mother +and you in to the Checkers, and old Mrs. Diggles led you into her parlor +and dusted the table with her apron, what made you think of asking her +for a piece of cake and a cup of tea?"</p> + +<p>"My dearest, I saw the cake in the bar!" she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"I believe the old woman was ready to faint with delight when you +praised her currant-wine, and asked how she made it. You have a +wonderful way of getting round people—whether by fair means or +otherwise I don't know. Do you think if it had been anybody else but you +who went to Von Zoesch in Genoa, he would have let Calabressa come with +us to America?"</p> + +<p>"Poor old Calabressa!" she said, laughing; "he is very brave now about +the sea; but he was terribly frightened that bad night we had after +leaving Queenstown."</p> + +<p>Here some one appeared in the dusky recess at the top of the +companion-stairs, and stepped out into the open.</p> + +<p>"Are you people never coming below at all?" he said. <!-- Page 426 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_426" id="Page_426">[Pg 426]</a></span>"I have to inform +you, Miss Natalie, with your mamma's compliments, that she can't get on +with her English verbs because of that fat girl playing Strauss; and +that she is going to her cabin, and wants to know when you are coming."</p> + +<p>"Now, at once," said Natalie, getting up out of her chair. "But wait a +moment, Evelyn: I cannot go without bidding good-night to Calabressa. +Where is Calabressa?"</p> + +<p>"Calabressa! Oh, in the smoking-room, betting like mad, and going in for +all the mock-auctions. I expect some of them will sit up all night to +get their first sight of the land. The pilot expects that will be +shortly after daybreak."</p> + +<p>"You will be in time for that, Natalie, won't you?" Brand asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes. Good-night, Evelyn!" and she gave him her hand.</p> + +<p>Brand went with her down the companion-stairs, carrying her rugs and +shawls. In the corridor she turned to bid him good-night also.</p> + +<p>"Dearest," she said, in a low voice, "do you know what I have been +trying all day—to get you to say one word, the smallest word, of +regret?"</p> + +<p>"But if I have no regret whatever, how can I express any?"</p> + +<p>"Sure?"</p> + +<p>He laughed, and kissed her.</p> + +<p>"Good-night, my darling!"</p> + +<p>"Good-night; God bless you!"</p> + +<p>Then he made his way along the gloomy corridor again and up the broad +zinc steps, and out into the moonlight. Evelyn was there, leaning with +his arms on the hand-rail, and idly watching, far below, the gleams of +light on the gray-black waves.</p> + +<p>"It is too fine a night to go below," he said. "What do you say, +Brand—shall we wait up for the daylight and the first glimpse of +America?"</p> + +<p>"If you like," said Brand, taking out his cigar-case, and hauling along +the chair in which Natalie had been sitting.</p> + +<p>They had the whole of this upper deck to themselves, except when one or +other of the officers passed on his rounds. They could talk without risk +of being overheard: and they had plenty to talk about—of all that had +happened of late, of all that might happen to them in this new country +they were nearing.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said, "Evelyn, that settlement in Genoa clinched everything, +as far as I am concerned. I have no longer any doubt, any hesitation: +there is nothing to be con<!-- Page 427 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_427" id="Page_427">[Pg 427]</a></span>cealed now—nothing to be withheld, even from +those who are content to remain merely as our friends. One might have +gone on as before; for, after all, these death-penalties only attached +to the officers; and the great mass of the members, not being touched by +them, need have known nothing about them. But it is better now."</p> + +<p>"It was Natalie's appeal that settled that," Lord Evelyn said, as he +still watched the shining waves.</p> + +<p>"The influence of that girl is extraordinary. One could imagine that +some magnetism radiated from her; or perhaps it is her voice, and her +clear faith, and her enthusiasm. When she said something to old Anton +Pepczinski, on bidding him good-bye—not about herself, or about him, +but about what some of us were hoping for—he was crying like a child! +In other times she might have done great things: she might have led +armies."</p> + +<p>By-and-by he said,</p> + +<p>"As for those decrees, what use were they? From all I could learn, only +ten have been issued since the Society was in existence; and eight of +those were for the punishment of officers, who ought merely to have been +expelled. Of course you will get people like Calabressa, with a touch of +theatrical-mindedness, who have a love for the terrorism such a thing +can produce. But what use is it? It is not by striking down an +individual here or there that you can help on any wide movement; and +this great organization, that I can see in the future will have other +things to do than take heed of personal delinquencies—except in so far +as to purge out from itself unworthy members—its action will affect +continents, not persons."</p> + +<p>"You can see that—you believe that, Brand?" Lord Evelyn, said, turning +and regarding him.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I think so," he answered, without enthusiasm, but with simple +sincerity. Presently he said, "You remember, Evelyn, the morning we +turned out of the little inn on the top of the Niessen, to see the sun +rise over the Bernese Alps?"</p> + +<p>"I remember it was precious cold," said Lord Evelyn, almost with a +shiver.</p> + +<p>"You remember, when we got to the highest point, we looked down into the +great valleys, where the lakes and the villages were, and there it was +still night under the heavy clouds. But before us, where the peaks of +the Jungfrau, and the Wetterhorn, and the rest of them rose into the +clear sky, there was a curious faint light that showed the day was +coming. And we waited and watched, and the light grew strong<!-- Page 428 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_428" id="Page_428">[Pg 428]</a></span>er, and all +sorts of colors began to show along the peaks. That was the sunrise. But +down in the valleys everything <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: Extra "," deleted from the original text"> +was</ins> misty and +dark and cold—everything asleep; the people there could see nothing of +the new day we were looking at. And so I suppose it is with us now. We +are looking ahead. We see, or fancy we see, the light before the others; +but, sooner or later, they will see it also, for the sunrise is bound to +come."</p> + +<p>They continued talking, and they paced up and down the decks, while the +half-hours and hours were struck by the bells. The moon was declining to +the horizon. Long ago the last of the revellers had left the +smoking-room, and there was nothing to interrupt the stillness but the +surge of the waters.</p> + +<p>Then again—</p> + +<p>"Have you noticed Natalie's mother of late? It is a pleasure to watch +the poor woman's face; she seems to drink in happiness by merely looking +at her daughter; every time that Natalie laughs you can see her mother's +eyes brighten."</p> + +<p>"I have noticed a great change in Natalie herself," Evelyn said. "She is +looking younger; she has lost that strange, half-apprehensive expression +of the eyes; and she seems to be in excellent spirits. Calabressa is +more devotedly her slave than ever."</p> + +<p>"You should have seen him when Von Zoesch told him to pack up and be off +to America."</p> + +<p>By-and-by he said,</p> + +<p>"You know, Evelyn, if you can't stay in America with us altogether—and +that would be too much to expect—don't say anything as yet to Natalie +about your going back. She has the notion that our little colony is to +be founded as a permanency."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I am in no hurry," said Evelyn, carelessly. "Things will get along +at home well enough without me. Didn't I tell you that, once those girls +began to go, they would go, like lightning? It is rough on Blanche, +though, that Truda should come next. By-the-way, in any case, Brand, I +must remain in America for your wedding."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you will, will you?" said Brand. "Then that settles one point—you +won't be going back very soon."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Of course, Natalie and I won't marry until she is of age; that is a +good year and a half yet. Did you hear of Calabressa's mad proposal that +he should extort from Lind his consent to our marriage as the price of +the good news that <!-- Page 429 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_429" id="Page_429">[Pg 429]</a></span>he, Calabressa, had to reveal? Like him, wasn't it? +an ingenious scheme."</p> + +<p>"What did you say?"</p> + +<p>"Why, what could I say? I would not be put under any obligation to Lind +on any account whatever. We can wait; it is not a long time."</p> + +<p>The moonlight waned, and there was another light slowly declaring itself +in the east. The two friends continued talking, and did not notice how +that the cold blue light beyond the sea was gradually yielding to a +silver-gray. The pilot and first mate, who were on the bridge, had just +been joined by the captain.</p> + +<p>The silver-gray in its turn gave place to a clear yellow, and high up +one or two flakes of cloud became of a saffron-red. Then the burning +edge of the sun appeared over the waves; the world lightened; the masts +and funnels of the steamer caught the glory streaming over from the +east. The ship seemed to waken also; one or two stragglers came tumbling +up from below, rubbing their eyes, and staring strangely around them; +but as yet no land was in sight.</p> + +<p>The sunrise now flooded the sky and the sea; the number of those on deck +increased; and at last there was an eager passing round of binoculars, +and a murmur of eager interest. Those with sharp eyes enough could make +out, right ahead, in the midst of the pale glow of the morning, a thin +blue line of coast.</p> + +<p>The great steamer surged on through the sunlit waters. And now even +those who were without glasses could distinguish, here and there along +that line of pale-blue land, a touch of yellowish-white; and they +guessed that the new world there was already shining with the light of +the new day. Brand felt a timid, small hand glide into his. Natalie was +standing beside him, her beautiful black hair a trifle dishevelled, +perhaps, and her eyes still bearing traces of her having been in the +realm of dreams; but those eyes were full of tenderness, nevertheless, +as she met his look. He asked her <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's Note: Extra "," deleted from the original text"> +if</ins> she could make out that strip of coast beyond the shining +waters.</p> + +<p>"Can you see, Natalie? It is our future home!"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, I can see it," she said; "and the sunrise is there before us: +it is a happy sign."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>There remains to be added only this—that about the last thing Natalie +Lind did before leaving England was to go and plant some flowers, +carefully and tenderly, on Kirski's grave; and that about the first +thing she did on landing in America <!-- Page 430 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_430" id="Page_430">[Pg 430]</a></span>was to write to Madame Potecki, +asking her to look after the little Anneli, and sending many loving +messages: for this girl—or, rather, this beautiful child, as Calabressa +would persist in calling her—had a large heart, that could hold many +affections and many memories, and that was not capable of forgetting any +one who had been kind to her.</p> + +<h3>THE END.</h3> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Sunrise, by William Black + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SUNRISE *** + +***** This file should be named 17308-h.htm or 17308-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/3/0/17308/ + +Produced by Robert Cicconetti, Michael Punch and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Sunrise + +Author: William Black + +Release Date: December 14, 2005 [EBook #17308] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SUNRISE *** + + + + +Produced by Robert Cicconetti, Michael Punch and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + SUNRISE. + + + BY + + + WILLIAM BLACK. + +_Author of "Shandon Bells," "Yolande," "Strange Adventures of a +Phaeton," "Madcap Violet" etc., etc._ + + + NEW YORK: + JOHN B. ALDEN, PUBLISHER, + 1883. + + + + +CONTENTS. + + CHAPTER PAGE + + I. A FIRST INTERVIEW. 1 + II. PLEADINGS. 8 + III. IN A HOUSE IN CURZON STREET. 14 + IV. A STRANGER. 23 + V. PIONEERS. 29 + VI. BON VOYAGE! 37 + VII. IN SOLITUDE. 44 + VIII. A DISCOVERY. 51 + IX. A NIGHT IN VENICE. 58 + X. VACILLATION. 64 + XI. A COMMISSION. 72 + XII. JACTA EST ALEA. 79 + XIII. SOUTHWARD. 86 + XIV. A RUSSIAN EPISODE. 94 + XV. NEW FRIENDS. 101 + XVI. A LETTER. 108 + XVII. CALABRESSA. 115 + XVIII. HER ANSWER. 123 + XIX. AT THE CULTURVEREIN. 129 + XX. FIDELIO. 137 + XXI. FATHER AND DAUGHTER. 144 + XXII. EVASIONS. 151 + XXIII. A TALISMAN. 158 + XXIV. AN ALTERNATIVE. 165 + XXV. A FRIEND'S ADVICE. 172 + XXVI. A PROMISE. 179 + XXVII. KIRSKI. 186 + XXVIII. A CLIMAX. 193 + XXIX. A GOOD-NIGHT MESSAGE. 201 + XXX. SOME TREASURES. 208 + XXXI. IN A GARDEN AT POSILIPO. 215 + XXXII. FRIEND AND SWEETHEART. 223 + XXXIII. INTERVENTION. 230 + XXXIV. AN ENCOUNTER. 237 + XXXV. THE MOTHER. 245 + XXXVI. THE VELVET GLOVE. 252 + XXXVII. SANTA CLAUS. 259 + XXXVIII. A SUMMONS. 266 + XXXIX. A NEW HOME. 274 + XL. A CONCLAVE. 280 + XLI. IN THE DEEPS. 288 + XLII. A COMMUNICATION. 295 + XLIII. A QUARREL. 302 + XLIV. A TWICE-TOLD TALE. 308 + XLV. SOUTHWARD. 316 + XLVI. THE BEECHES. 321 + XLVII. AT PORTICI. 329 + XLVIII. AN APPEAL. 337 + XLIX. AN EMISSARY. 345 + L. A WEAK BROTHER. 352 + LI. THE CONJURER. 359 + LII. FIAT JUSTITIA. 366 + LIII. THE TRIAL. 373 + LIV. PUT TO THE PROOF. 380 + LV. CONGRATULATIONS. 387 + LVI. A COMMISSION. 394 + LVII. FAREWELL! 401 + LVIII. A SACRIFICE. 409 + LIX. NATALIE SPEAKS. 416 + LX. NEW SHORES. 424 + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +A FIRST INTERVIEW. + + +One chilly afternoon in February, while as yet the London season had not +quite begun, though the streets were busy enough, an open barouche was +being rapidly driven along Piccadilly in the direction of Coventry +Street; and its two occupants, despite the dull roar of vehicles around +them, seemed to be engaged in eager conversation. One of these two was a +tall, handsome, muscular-looking man of about thirty, with a sun-tanned +face, piercing gray eyes, and a reddish-brown beard cropped in the +foreign fashion; the other, half hidden among the voluminous furs of the +carriage, was a pale, humpbacked lad, with a fine, expressive, +intellectual face, and large, animated, almost woman-like eyes. The +former was George Brand, of Brand Beeches, Bucks, a bachelor unattached, +and a person of no particular occupation, except that he had tumbled +about the world a good deal, surveying mankind with more or less of +interest or indifference. His companion and friend, the bright-eyed, +beautiful-faced, humpbacked lad, was Ernest Francis D'Agincourt, +thirteenth Baron Evelyn. + +The discussion was warm, though the elder of the two friends spoke +deprecatingly, at times even scornfully. + +"I know what is behind all that," he said. "They are making a dupe of +you, Evelyn. A parcel of miserable Leicester Square conspirators, +plundering the working-man of all countries of his small savings, and +humbugging him with promises of twopenny-halfpenny revolutions! That is +not the sort of thing for you to mix in. It is not English, all that +dagger and dark-lantern business, even if it were real; but when it is +only theatrical--when they are only stage daggers--when the wretched +creatures who mouth about assassination and revolution are only +swaggering for half-pence--bah! What part do you propose to play?" + +"I tell you it has nothing to do with daggers and dark lanterns," said +the other with even greater warmth. "Why will you run your head against +a windmill? Why must you see farther into a mile-stone than anybody +else? I wonder, with all your travelling, you have not got rid of some +of that detestable English prejudice and suspicion. I tell you that when +I am allowed, even as an outsider, to see something of this vast +organization for the defence of the oppressed, for the protection of the +weak, the vindication of the injured, in every country throughout the +globe--when I see the splendid possibilities before it--when I find that +even a useless fellow like myself may do some little thing to lessen the +mighty mass of injustice and wrong in the world--well, I am not going to +stop to see that every one of my associates is of pure English birth, +with a brother-in-law on the Bench, and an uncle in the House of Lords. +I am glad enough to have something to do that is worth doing; something +to believe in; something to hope for. You--what do you believe in? What +is there in heaven or earth that you believe in?" + +"Suppose I say that I believe in you, Evelyn?" said his friend, quite +good-naturedly; "and some day, when you can convince me that your newly +discovered faith is all right, you may find me becoming your meek +disciple, and even your apostle. But I shall want something more than +Union speeches, you know." + +By this time the carriage had passed along Coventry Street, turned into +Prince's Street, and been pulled up opposite a commonplace-looking house +in that distinctly dingy thoroughfare, Lisle Street, Soho. + +"Not quite Leicester Square, but near enough to serve," said Brand, with +a contemptuous laugh, as he got out of the barouche, and then, with the +greatest of care and gentleness, assisted his companion to alight. + +They crossed the pavement and rang a bell. Almost instantly the door was +opened by a stout, yellow-haired, blear-eyed old man, who wore a huge +overcoat adorned with masses of shabby fur, and who carried a small lamp +in his hand, for the afternoon had grown to dusk. The two visitors were +evidently expected. Having given the younger of them a deeply respectful +greeting in German, the fur-coated old gentleman shut the door after +them, and proceeded to show the way up a flight of narrow and not +particularly clean wooden stairs. + +"Conspiracy doesn't seem to pay," remarked George Brand, half to +himself. + +On the landing they were confronted by a number of doors, one of which +the old German threw open. They entered a large, plainly furnished, +well-lit room, looking pretty much like a merchant's office, though the +walls were mostly hung with maps and plans of foreign cities. Brand +looked round with a supercilious air. All his pleasant and friendly +manner had gone. He was evidently determined to make himself as +desperately disagreeable as an Englishman can make himself when +introduced to a foreigner whom he suspects. But even he would have had +to confess that there was no suggestion of trap-doors or sliding panels +in this ordinary, business-like room; and not a trace of a dagger or a +dark lantern anywhere. + +Presently, from a door opposite, an elderly man of middle height and +spare and sinewy frame walked briskly in, shook hands with Lord Evelyn, +was introduced to the tall, red-bearded Englishman (who still stood, hat +in hand, and with a portentous stiffness in his demeanor), begged his +two guests to be seated, and himself sat down at an open bureau, which +was plentifully littered with papers. + +"I am pleased to meet you, Mr. Brand," he said, speaking carefully, and +with a considerable foreign accent. "Lord Evelyn has several times +promised me the honor of making your acquaintance." + +Mr. Brand merely bowed: he was intent on making out what manner of man +this suspected foreigner might be; and he was puzzled. At first sight +Ferdinand Lind appeared to be about fifty or fifty-five years of age; +his closely cropped hair was gray; and his face, in repose, somewhat +care-worn. But then when he spoke there was an almost youthful vivacity +in his look; his dark eyes were keen, quick, sympathetic; and there was +even a certain careless ease about his dress--about the turned-down +collar and French-looking neck-tie, for example--that had more of the +air of the student than of the pedant about it. All this at the first +glance. It was only afterward you came to perceive what was denoted by +those heavy, seamed brows, the firm, strong mouth, and the square line +of the jaw. These told you of the presence of an indomitable and +inflexible will. Here was a man born to think, and control, and command. + +"With that prospect before me," he continued, apparently taking no +notice of the Englishman's close scrutiny, "I must ask you, Mr. +Brand--well, you know, it is merely a matter of form--but I must ask +you to be so very kind as to give me your word of honor that you will +not disclose anything you may see or learn here. Have you any +objection?" + +Brand stared, then said, coldly, + +"Oh dear, no. I will give you that pledge, if you wish it." + +"It is so easy to deal with Englishmen," said Mr. Lind, politely. "A +word, and it is done. But I suppose Lord Evelyn has told you that we +have no very desperate secrets. Secrecy, you know, one must use +sometimes; it is an inducement to many--most people are fond of a little +mystery; and it is harmless." + +Brand said nothing; Lord Evelyn thought he might have been at least +civil. But when an Englishman is determined on being stiff, his +stiffness is gigantic. + +"If I were to show you some of the tricks of this very room," said this +grizzled old foreigner with the boyish neck-tie, "you might call me a +charlatan; but would that be fair? We have to make use of various means +for what we consider a good end, a noble end; and there are many people +who love mystery and secrecy. With you English it is different--you must +have everything above-board." + +The pale, fine face of the sensitive lad sitting there became clouded +over with disappointment. He had brought this old friend of his with +some vague hope that he might become a convert, or at least be +sufficiently interested to make inquiries; but Brand sat silent, with a +cold indifference that was only the outward sign of an inward suspicion. + +"Sometimes, it is true," continued Mr. Lind, in nowise disconcerted, "we +stumble on the secrets of others. Our association has innumerable +feelers: and we make it our business to know what we can of everything +that is going on. For example, I could tell you of an odd little +incident that occurred last year in Constantinople. A party of four +gentlemen were playing cards there in a private room." + +Brand started. The man who was speaking took no notice. + +"There were two Austrian officers, a Roumanian count, and an +Englishman," he continued, in the most matter-of-fact way. "It was in a +private room, as I said. The Englishman was, after a time, convinced +that the Roumanian was cheating; he caught his wrist--showed the false +cards; then he managed to ward off the blow of a dagger which the +Roumanian aimed at him, and by main force carried him to the door and +threw him down-stairs. It was cleverly done, but the Englishman was +very big and strong. Afterward the two Austrian officers, who knew the +Verdt family, begged the Englishman never to reveal what had occurred; +and the three promised secrecy. Was not that so?" + +The man looked up carelessly. The Englishman's apathy was no longer +visible. + +"Y-yes," he stammered. + +"Would you like to know what became of Count Verdt?" he asked, with an +air of indifference. + +"Yes, certainly," said the other. + +"Ah! Of course you know the Castel' del Ovo?" + +"At Naples? Yes." + +"You remember that out at the point, beside the way that leads from the +shore to the fortress, there are many big rocks, and the waves roll +about there. Three weeks after you caught Count Verdt cheating at cards, +his dead body was found floating there." + +"Gracious heavens!" Brand exclaimed, with his face grown pale. And then +he added, breathlessly, "Suicide?" + +Mr. Lind smiled. + +"No. Reassure yourself. When they picked out the body from the water, +they found the mouth gagged, and the hands tied behind the back." + +Brand stared at this man. + +"Then you--?" He dared not complete the question. + +"I? Oh, I had nothing to do with it, any more than yourself. It was a +Camorra affair." + +He had been speaking quite indifferently; but now a singular change came +over his manner. + +"And if I _had_ had something to do with it?" he said, vehemently; and +the dark eyes were burning with a quick anger under the heavy brows. +Then he spoke more slowly, but with a firm emphasis in his speech. "I +will tell you a little story; it will not detain you, sir. Suppose that +you have a prison so overstocked with political prisoners that you must +keep sixty or seventy in the open yard adjoining the outer wall. You +have little to fear; they are harmless, poor wretches; there are several +old men--two women. Ah! but what are the poor devils to do in those long +nights that are so dark and so cold? However they may huddle together, +they freeze; if they keep not moving, they die; you find them dead in +the morning. If you are a Czar you are glad of that, for your prisons +are choked; it is very convenient. And, then suppose you have a clever +fellow who finds out a narrow passage between the implement-house and +the wall; and he says, 'There, you can work all night at digging a +passage out; and who in the morning will suspect?' Is not that a fine +discovery, when one must keep moving in the dark to prevent one's self +stiffening into a corpse? Oh yes; then you find the poor devils, in +their madness, begin to tear the ground up; what tools have they but +their fingers, when the implement-house is locked? The poor devils!--old +men, too, and women; and how they take their turn at the slow work, hour +after hour, week after week, all through the long, still nights! Inch by +inch it is; and the poor devils become like rabbits, burrowing for a +hole to reach the outer air; and do you know that, after a time, the +first wounds heal, and your fingers become like stumps of iron--" + +He held out his two hands; the ends of the fingers were seamed and +corrugated, as if they had been violently scalded. But he could not hold +them steady--they were trembling with the suppressed passion that made +his whole frame tremble. + +"Relay after relay, night after night, week after week, month after +month, until those poor devils of rabbits had actually burrowed a +passage out into the freedom of God's world again. And some said the +Czar himself had heard of it, and would not interfere, for the prisons +were choked; and some said the wife of the governor was Polish, and had +a kind heart; but what did it matter when the time was drawing near? And +always this clever fellow--do you know, sir, his name was Verdt +too?--encouraging, helping, goading these poor people on. Then the last +night--how the miserable rabbits of creatures kept huddled together, +shivering in the dark, till the hour arrived! and then the death-like +stillness they found outside; and the wild wonder and fear of it; and +the old men and the women crying like children to find themselves in the +free air again. Marie Falevitch--that was my sister-in-law--she kissed +me, and was laughing when she whispered, '_Eljen a haza_!' I think she +was a little off her head with the long, sleepless nights." + +He stopped for a second; his throat seemed choked. + +"Did I tell you they had all got out?--the poor devils all wondering +there, and scarcely knowing where to go. And now suppose, sir--ah! you +don't know anything about these things, you happy English +people--suppose you found the black night around you all at once turned +to a blaze of fire--red hell opened on all sides of you, and the bullets +plowing your comrades down; the old men crying for mercy, the young ones +falling only with a groan; the women--my God! Did you ever hear a woman +shriek when she was struck through the heart with a bullet? Marie +Falevitch fell at my feet, but I could not raise her--I was struck down +too. It was a week after that I came to my senses. I was in the prison, +but the prison was not quite so full. Czars and governors have a fine +way of thinning prisons when they get too crowded." + +These last words were spoken in a calm, contemptuous way; the man was +evidently trying hard to control the fierce passion that these memories +had stirred up. He had clinched one hand, and put it firmly on the desk +before him, so that it should not tremble. + +"Well, now, Mr. Brand," he continued, slowly, "let us suppose that when +you come to yourself again, you hear the rumors that are about: you +hear, for example, that Count Verdt--that exceedingly clever man--has +been graciously pardoned by the Czar for revealing the villanous +conspiracy of his fellow-prisoners; and that he has gone off to the +South with a bag of money. Do you not think that you would remember the +name of that clever person? Do you not think you would say to yourself, +'Well, it may not be to-day, or to-morrow, or the next day: _but some +day_?'" + +Again the dark eyes glowed; but he had a wonderful self-control. + +"You would remember the name, would you not, if you had your +sister-in-law, and your only brother, and six or seven of your old +friends and comrades all shot on the one night?" + +"This was the same Count Verdt?" Brand asked, eagerly. + +"Yes," said the other, after a considerable pause. Then he added, with +an involuntary sigh, "I had been following his movements for some time; +but the Camorra stepped in. They are foolish people, those +Camorristi--foolish and ignorant. They punish for very trifling +offences, and they do not make sufficient warning of their punishments. +Then they are quite imbecile in the way they attempt to regulate labor." + +He was now talking in quite a matter-of-fact way. The clinched hand was +relaxed. + +"Besides," continued Ferdinand Lind, with the cool air of a critic, +"their conduct is too scandalous. The outer world believes they are +nothing but an association of thieves and cut-throats; that is because +they do not discountenance vulgar and useless crime; because there is +not enough authority, nor any proper selection of members. In the +affairs of the world, one has sometimes to make use of queer +agents--that is admitted; and you cannot have any large body of people +without finding a few scoundrels among them. I suppose one might even +say that about your very respectable Church of England. But you only +bring a society into disrepute--you rob it of much usefulness--you put +the law and society against it--when you make it the refuge of common +murderers and thieves." + +"I should hope so," remarked George Brand. If this suspected foreigner +had resumed his ordinary manner, so had he; he was again the haughty, +suspicious, almost supercilious Englishman. + +Poor Lord Evelyn! The lad looked quite distressed. These two men were so +obviously antipathetic that it seemed altogether hopeless to think of +their ever coming together. + +"Well," said Mr. Lind, in his ordinary polished and easy manner, "I must +not seek to detain you; for it is a cold night to keep horses waiting. +But, Mr. Brand, Lord Evelyn dines with us to-morrow evening; if you have +nothing better to do, will you join our little party? My daughter, I am +sure, will be most pleased to make your acquaintance." + +"Do, Brand, there's a good fellow;" struck in his friend. "I haven't +seen anything of you for such a long time." + +"I shall be very happy indeed," said the tall Englishman, wondering +whether he was likely to meet a goodly assemblage of sedition-mongers at +this foreign persons table. + +"We dine at a quarter to eight. The address is No. ---- Curzon Street; but +perhaps you had better take this card." + +So they left, and were conducted down the staircase by the stout old +German; and scrambled up into the furs of the barouche. + +"So he has a daughter?" said Brand, as the two friends together drove +down to Buckingham Street, where they were to dine at his rooms. + +"Oh, yes; his daughter Natalie," said Lord Evelyn, eagerly. "I am so +glad you will see him to-morrow night!" + +"And they live on Curzon Street," said the other, reflectively. "H'm! +Conspiracy _does_ pay, then!" + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +PLEADINGS. + + +"Brother Senior Warden, your place in the lodge?" said Mr. Brand, +looking at the small dinner-table. + +"You forget," his companion said. "I am only in the nursery as yet--an +Illuminatus Minor, as it were. However, I don't think I can do better +than sit where Waters has put me; I can have a glimpse of the lights on +the river. But what an extraordinary place for you to come to for +rooms!" + +They had driven down through the glare of the great city to this silent +and dark little thoroughfare, dismissed the carriage at the foot, +climbed up an old-fashioned oak staircase, and found themselves at last +received by an elderly person, who looked a good deal more like a +bronzed old veteran than an ordinary English butler. + +"Halloo, Waters!" said Lord Evelyn. "How are you? I don't think I have +seen you since you threatened to murder the landlord at Cairo." + +"No, my lord," said Mr. Waters, who seemed vastly pleased by this +reminiscence, and who instantly disappeared to summon dinner for the two +young men. + +"Extraordinary?" said Brand, when they had got seated at table. "Oh no; +my constant craving is for air, space, light and quiet. Here I have all +these. Beneath are the Embankment gardens; beyond that, you see, the +river--those lights are the steamers at anchor. As for quiet, the lower +floors are occupied by a charitable society; so I fancied there would +not be much traffic on the stairs." + +The jibe passed unheeded; Lord Evelyn had long ago become familiar with +his friend's way of speaking about men and things. + +"And so, Evelyn, you have become a pupil of the revolutionaries," George +Brand continued, when Waters had put some things before them and +retired--"a student of the fine art of stabbing people unawares? What an +astute fellow that Lind must be--I will swear it never occurred to one +of the lot before--to get an English milord into their ranks! A stroke +of genius! It could only have been projected by a great mind. And then +look at the effect throughout Europe if an English milord were to be +found with a parcel of Orsini bombs in his possession! every ragamuffin +from Naples to St. Petersburg would rejoice; the army of cutthroats +would march with a new swagger." + +His companion said nothing; but there was a vexed and impatient look on +his face. + +"And our little daughter--is she pretty? Does she coax the young men to +play with daggers?--the innocent little thing! And when you start with +your dynamite to break open a jail, she blows you a kiss?--the charming +little fairy! What is it she has embroidered on the ribbons round her +neck?--'_Mort aux rois_?' '_Sic semper tyrannis_?' No; I saw a much +prettier one somewhere the other day: '_Ne si pasce di fresche ruggiade, +ma di sangue di membra di re_.' Isn't it charming? It sounds quite +idyllic, even in English: '_Not for you the nourishment of freshening +dews, but the blood of the limbs of kings_!' The pretty little +stabber--is she fierce?" + +"Brand, you are too bad!" said the other, throwing down his knife and +fork, and getting up from the table. "You believe in neither man, woman, +God, nor devil!" + +"Would you mind handing over that claret jug?" + +"Why," he said, turning passionately toward him, "it is men like you, +who have neither faith, nor hope, nor regret, who are wandering +aimlessly in a nightmare of apathy and indolence and indifference, who +ought to be the first to welcome the new light breaking in the sky. What +is life worth to you? You have nothing to hope for--nothing to look +forward to--nothing you can kill the aimless with. Why should you desire +to-morrow? To-morrow will bring you nothing different from yesterday; +you will do as you did yesterday and the day before yesterday. It is the +life of a horse or an ox--not the life of a human being, with the +sympathies and needs and aspirations of a man. What is the object of +living at all?" + +"I really don't know," said the other, simply. + +But this pale hump-backed lad, with the fine nostrils, the sensitive +mouth, the large forehead, and the beautiful eyes, was terribly in +earnest. He forgot about his place at table. He kept walking up and +down, occasionally addressing his friend directly, at other times +glancing out at the dark river and the golden lines of the lamps. +And he was an eloquent speaker, too. Debarred from most forms of +physical exercise, he had been brought up in a world of ideas. +When he went to Oxford, it was with some vague notion of subsequently +entering the Church; but at Oxford he became speedily convinced that +there was no Church left for him to enter. Then he fell back on +aestheticism--worshipped Carpaccio, adored Chopin, and turned his rooms +at Merton into a museum of old tapestry, Roman brass-work, and +Venetian glass. Then he dabbled a little in Comtism; but very soon he +threw aside that gigantic make-believe at believing. Nevertheless, +whatever was his whim of the moment, it was for him no whim at all, +but a burning reality. And in this enthusiasm of his there was no room +left for shyness. In fact, these two companions had been accustomed to +talk frankly; they had long ago abandoned that self-consciousness +which ordinarily restricts the conversation of young Englishmen to +monosyllables. Brand was a good listener and his friend an eager, +impetuous, enthusiastic speaker. The one could even recite verses to +the other: what greater proof of confidence? + +And on this occasion all this prayer of his was earnest and pathetic +enough. He begged this old chum of his to throw aside his insular +prejudices and judge for himself. What object had he in living at all, +if life were merely a routine of food and sleep? In this selfish +isolation, his living was only a process of going to the grave--only +that each day would become more tedious and burdensome as he grew older. +Why should he not examine, and inquire, and believe--if that was +possible? The world was perishing for want of a new faith: the new faith +was here. + +At this phrase George Brand quickly raised his head. He was accustomed +to these enthusiasms of his friend; but he had not yet seen him in the +character of on apostle. + +"You know it as well as I, Brand; the last great wave of religion has +spent itself; and I suppose Matthew Arnold would have us wait for the +mysterious East, the mother of religions, to send us another. Do you +remember 'Obermann?'-- + + "'In his cool hall, with haggard eyes, + The Roman noble lay; + He drove abroad, in furious guise, + Along the Appian Way; + + "'He made a feast, drank fierce and fast, + And crowned his head with flowers-- + No easier nor no quicker passed + The impracticable hours. + + "'The brooding East with awe beheld + Her impious younger world. + The Roman tempest swelled and swelled, + And on her head was hurled. + + "'The East bowed low before the blast, + In patience, deep disdain; + She let the legions thunder past, + And plunged in thought again.'" + +The lad had a sympathetic voice; and there was a curious, pathetic +thrill in the tones of it as he went on to describe the result of that +awful musing--the new-born joy awakening in the East--the victorious +West veiling her eagles and snapping her sword before this strange new +worship of the Child-- + + "And centuries came, and ran their course, + And, unspent all that time, + Still, still went forth that Child's dear force, + And still was at its prime." + +But now--in these later days around us!-- + + "Now he is dead! Far hence He lies + In the lorn Syrian town; + And on his grave, with shining eyes, + The Syrian stars look down." + +The great divine wave had spent itself. But were we to sit supinely +by--this was what he asked, though not precisely in these consecutive +words, for sometimes he walked to and fro in his eagerness, and +sometimes he ate a bit of bread, or sat down opposite his friend for the +purpose of better confronting him--to wait for that distant and +mysterious East to send us another revelation? Not so. Let the +proud-spirited and courageous West, that had learned the teachings of +Christianity but never yet applied them--let the powerful West establish +a faith of her own: a faith in the future of humanity itself--a faith in +future of recompense and atonement to the vast multitudes of mankind who +had toiled so long and so grievously--a faith demanding instant action +and endeavor and self-sacrifice from those who would be its first +apostles. + + "The complaining millions of men + Darken in labor and pain." + +And why should not this Christianity, that had so long been used to gild +the thrones of kings and glorify the ceremonies of priests--that had so +long been monopolized by the rich and the great and the strong, whom its +Founder despised and denounced--why should it not at length come to the +help of those myriads of the poor and the weak and the suffering whose +cry for help had been for so many centuries disregarded? Here was work +for the idle, hope for the hopeless, a faith for them who were perishing +for want of a faith. + +"You say all this is vague--a vision--a sentiment?" he said, talking in +the same eager way. "Then that is my fault. I cannot explain it all to +you in a few words. But do not run away with the notion that it is mere +words--a St. Simonian dream of perfectibility, or anything like that. It +is practical; it exists; it is within reach of you. It is a definite +and immense organization; it may be young as yet, but it has courage and +splendid aims; and now, with a great work before it, it is eager for +aid. You yourself, when you see a child run over, or a woman starving of +hunger, or a blind man wanting to cross a street, are you not ready with +your help--the help of your hands or of your purse? Multiply these by +millions, and think of the cry for help that comes from all parts of the +world. If you but knew, you could not resist. I as yet know little--I +only hear the echo of the cry; but my veins are burning; I shall have +the gladness of answering 'Yes,' however little I can do. And after all, +is not that something? For a man to live only for himself is death." + +"But you know, Evelyn," said his friend, though he did not quite know +what to answer to all this outburst, "you must be more cautious. Those +benevolent schemes are very noble and very captivating; but sometimes +they are in the hands of rather queer people. And besides, do you quite +know the limits of this big society? I thought you said something about +vindicating the oppressed. Does it include politics?" + +"I do not question; I am content to obey," said Lord Evelyn. + +"That is not English; unreasoning and blind obedience is mere folly." + +"Perhaps so," said the other, somewhat absently; "but I suppose a man +accepts whatever satisfies the craving of his own heart. And--and I +should not like to go alone on this new thing, Brand. Will you not come +some little way with me? If you think I am mistaken, you may turn back; +as for me--well, if it were only a dream, I think I would rather go with +the pilgrims on their hopeless quest than stay with the people who come +out to wonder at them as they go by. You remember-- + + "'Who is your lady of love, oh ye that pass + Singing? And is it for sorrow of that which was + That ye sing sadly, or dream of what shall be? + For gladly at once and sadly it seems ye sing. + --Our lady of love by you is unbeholden; + For hands she hath none, nor eyes, nor lips, nor golden + Treasure of hair, nor face nor form; but we + That love, we know her more fair than anything.'" + +Yes; he had certainly a pathetic thrill in his voice; but now there was +something else--something strange--in the slow and monotonous cadence +that caught the acute ear of his friend. And again he went on, but +absently, almost as if he were himself listening-- + + "--Is she a queen, having great gifts to give? + --Yea, these; that whoso hath seen her shall not live + Except he serve her sorrowing, with strange pain, + Travail and bloodshedding and bitterest tears; + And when she bids die he shall surely die. + And he shall leave all things under the sky, + And go forth naked under sun and rain, + And work and wait and watch out all his years." + +"Evelyn," said George Brand, suddenly, fixing his keen eyes on his +friend's face, "where have you heard that? Who has taught you? You are +not speaking with your own voice." + +"With whose, then?" and a smile came over the pale, calm, beautiful +face, as if he had awakened out of a dream. + +"That," said Brand, still regarding him, "was the voice of Natalie +Lind." + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +IN A HOUSE IN CURZON STREET. + + +Armed with a defiant scepticism, and yet conscious of an unusual +interest and expectation, George Brand drove up to Curzon Street on the +following evening. As he jumped out of his hansom, he inadvertently +glanced at the house. + +"Conspiracy has not quite built us a palace as yet," he said to himself. + +The door was opened by a little German maid-servant, as neat and round +and rosy as a Dresden china shepherdess, who conducted him up-stairs and +announced him at the drawing-room. It was not a large room; but there +was more of color and gilding in it than accords with the severity of +modern English taste; and it was lit irregularly with a number of +candles, each with a little green or rose-red shade. Mr. Lind met him at +the door. As they shook hands, Brand caught a glimpse of another figure +in the room--apparently that of a tall woman dressed all in cream-white, +with a bunch of scarlet geraniums in her bosom, and another in her +raven-black hair. + +"Not the gay little adventuress, then?" was his instant and internal +comment. "Better contrived still. The inspired prophetess. Obviously +not the daughter of this man at all. Hired." + +But when Natalie Lind came forward to receive him, he was more than +surprised; he was almost abashed. During a second or two of wonder and +involuntary admiration, he was startled out of his critical attitude +altogether. For this tall and striking figure was in reality that of a +young girl of eighteen or nineteen, who had the beautifully formed bust, +the slender waist, and the noble carriage that even young Hungarian +girls frequently have. Perhaps the face, with its intellectual forehead +and the proud and firmly cut mouth, was a trifle too calm and +self-reliant for a young girl: but all the softness of expression that +was wanted, all the gentle and gracious timidity that we associate with +maidenhood, lay in the large, and dark, and lustrous eyes. When, by +accident, she turned aside, and he saw the outline of that clear, +olive-complexioned face, only broken by the outward curve of the long +black lashes, he had to confess to himself that, adventuress or no +adventuress, prophetess or no prophetess, Natalie Lind was possessed of +about the most beautiful profile he had ever beheld, while she had the +air and the bearing of a queen. + +Her father and he talked of the various trifling things of the moment; +but what he was chiefly thinking of was the singular calm and +self-possession of this young girl. When she spoke, her dark, soft eyes +regarded him without fear. Her manner was simple and natural to the last +degree; perhaps with the least touch added of maidenly reserve. He was +forced even to admire the simplicity of her dress--cream or canary white +it was, with a bit of white fur round the neck and round the tight +wrists. The only strong color was that of the scarlet geraniums which +she wore in her bosom, and in the splendid masses of her hair; and the +vertical sharp line of scarlet of her closed fan. + +Once only, during this interval of waiting, did he find that calm +serenity of hers disturbed. He happened to observe the photograph of a +very handsome woman near him on the table. She told him she had had a +parcel of photographs of friends of hers just sent over from Vienna: +some of them very pretty. She went to another table, and brought over a +handful. He glanced at them only a second or two. + +"I see they are mostly from Vienna: are they Austrian ladies?" he asked. + +"They live in Austria, but they are not Austrians," she answered. And +then she added, with a touch of scorn about the beautiful mouth, "Our +friends and we don't belong to the women-floggers!" + +"Natalie!" her father said; but he smiled all the same. + +"I will tell you one of my earliest recollections," she said: "I +remember it very well. Kossuth was carrying me round the room on his +shoulder. I suppose I had been listening to the talk of the gentlemen; +for I said to him, 'When they burned my papa in effigy at Pesth, why was +I not allowed to go and see?' And he said--I remember the sound of his +voice even now--'Little child, you were not born then. But if you had +been able to go, do you know what they would have done to you? They +would have flogged you. Do you not know that the Austrians flog women? +When you grow up, little child, your papa will tell you the story of +Madame von Maderspach.'" Then she added, "That is one of my valued +recollections, that when I was a child I was carried on Kossuth's +shoulders." + +"You have no similar reminiscence of Gorgey, I suppose?" Brand said, +with a smile. + +He had spoken quite inadvertently, without the slightest thought in the +world of wounding her feelings. But he was surprised and shocked by the +extraordinary effect which this chance remark produced on the tall and +beautiful girl standing there; for an instant she paused, as if not +knowing what to say. Then she said proudly, and she turned away as she +did so, + +"Perhaps you are not aware that there are some names you should not +mention in the presence of a Hungarian woman." + +What was there in the tone of the voice that made him rapidly glance at +her eyes, as she turned away, pretending to carry back the photographs? +He was not deceived. Those large dark eyes were full of sudden, +indignant tears; she had not turned quite quickly enough to conceal +them. + +Of course, he instantly and amply apologized for his ignorance and +stupidity; but what he said to himself was, "That child is not acting. +She may be Lind's daughter, after all. Poor thing! she is too beautiful, +and generous, and noble to be made the decoy of a revolutionary +adventurer." + +At this moment Lord Evelyn arrived, throwing a quick glance of inquiry +toward his friend, to see what impression, so far, had been produced. +But the tall, red-bearded Englishman maintained, as the diplomatists +say, an attitude of the strictest reserve. The keen gray eyes were +respectful attentive, courteous--especially when they were turned to +Miss Lind; beyond that, nothing. + +Now they had not been seated at the dinner-table more than a few minutes +before George Brand began to ask himself whether it was really Curzon +Street he was dining in. The oddly furnished room was adorned with +curiosities to which every capital in Europe would seem to have +contributed. The servants, exclusively women, were foreign; the table +glass and decorations were all foreign; the unostentatious little +banquet was distinctly foreign. Why, the very bell that had summoned +them down--what was there in the soft sound of it that had reminded him +of something far away? It was a haunting sound, and he kept puzzling +over the vague association it seemed to call up. At last he frankly +mentioned the matter to Miss Lind, who seemed greatly pleased. + +"Ah, did you like the sound?" she said, in that low and harmonious voice +of hers. "The bell was an invention of my own; shall I show it to you?" + +The Dresden shepherdess, by name Anneli, being despatched into the hall, +presently returned with an object somewhat resembling in shape a +Cheshire cheese, but round at the top, formed of roughly filed metal of +a lustrous yellow-gray. Round the rude square handle surmounting it was +carelessly twisted a bit of old orange silk; other decoration there was +none. + +"Do you see what it is now?" she said. "Only one of the great bells the +people use for the cattle on the Campagna. Where did I get it? Oh, you +know the Piazza Montenara, in Rome, of course? There is a place there +where they sell such things to the country people. You could get one +without difficulty, if you are not afraid of being laughed at as a mad +Englishman. That bit of embroidered ribbon, though, I got in an old shop +in Florence." + +Indeed, what struck him further was, not only the foreign look of the +little room and its belongings, but also the extraordinary familiarity +with foreign cities shown by both Lind and his daughter. As the rambling +conversation went on (the sonorous cattle-bell had been removed by the +rosy-cheeked Anneli), they appeared to be just as much at home in +Madrid, in Munich, in Turin, or Genoa as in London. And it was no vague +and general tourist's knowledge that these two cosmopolitans showed; it +was rather the knowledge of a resident--an intimate acquaintance with +persons, streets, shops, and houses. George Brand was a bit of a +globe-trotter himself, and was entirely interested in this talk about +places and things that he knew. He got to be quite at home with those +people, whose own home seemed to be Europe. Reminiscences, anecdotes +flowed freely on; the dinner passed with unconscious rapidity. Lord +Evelyn was delighted and pleased beyond measure to observe the more than +courteous attention that his friend paid to Natalie Lind. + +But all this while what mention was there of the great and wonderful +organization--a mere far-off glimpse of which had so captured Lord +Evelyn's fervent imagination? Not a word. The sceptic who had come among +them could find nothing either to justify or allay his suspicions. But +it might safely be said that, for the moment at least, his suspicions as +regarded one of those two were dormant. It was difficult to associate +trickery, and conspiracy, and cowardly stabbing, with this beautiful +young Hungarian girl, whose calm, dark eyes were so fearless. It is true +that she appeared very proud-spirited, and generous, and enthusiastic; +and you could cause her cheek to pale whenever you spoke of injury done +to the weak, or the suffering, or the poor. But that was different from +the secret sharpening of poniards. + +Once only was reference made to the various secret associations that are +slowly but eagerly working under the apparent social and political +surface of Europe. Some one mentioned the Nihilists. Thereupon Ferdinand +Lind, in a quiet and matter-of-fact way, without appearing to know +anything of the _personnel_ of the society, and certainly without +expressing any approval of its aims, took occasion to speak of the +extraordinary devotion of those people. + +"There has been nothing like it," said he, "in all the history of what +men have done for a political cause. You may say they are fanatics, +madmen, murderers; that they only provoke further tyranny and +oppression; that their efforts are wholly and solely mischievous. It may +be so; but I speak of the individual and what he is ready to do. The +sacrifice of their own life is taken almost as a matter of course. Each +man knows that for him the end will almost certainly be Siberia or a +public execution; and he accepts it. You will find young men, well-born, +well-educated, who go away from their friends and their native place, +who go into a remote village, and offer to work at the commonest trade, +at apprentices' wages. They settle there; they marry; they preach +nothing but the value of honest work, and extreme sobriety, and respect +for superiors. Then, after some years, when they are regarded as beyond +all suspicion, they begin, cautiously and slowly, to spread abroad +their propaganda--to teach respect rather for human liberty, for +justice, for self-sacrifice, for those passions that prompt a nation to +adventure everything for its freedom. Well, you know the end. The man +may be found out--banished or executed; but the association remains. The +Russians at this moment have no notion how wide-spread and powerful it +is." + +"The head-quarters, are they in Russia itself?" asked Brand, on the +watch for any admission. + +"Who knows?" said the other, absently. "Perhaps there are none." + +"None? Surely there must be some power to say what is to be done, to +enforce obedience?" + +"What if each man finds that in himself?" said Lind, with something of +the air of a dreamer coming over the firm and thoughtful and rugged +face. "It may be a brotherhood. All associations do not need to be +controlled by kings and priests and standing armies." + +"And the end of all this devotion, you say is Siberia or death?" + +"For the man, perhaps; for his work, not. It is not personal gain or +personal safety that a man must have in view if he goes to do battle +against the oppression that has crushed the world for centuries and +centuries. Do you not remember the answer given to the Czar by Michael +Bestoujif when he was condemned? It was only the saying of a peasant; +but it is one of the noblest ever heard in the world. 'I have the power +to pardon you,' said the Czar to him, 'and I would do so if I thought +you would become a faithful subject.' What was the answer? 'Sire,' said +Michael Bestoujif, 'that is our great misfortune, that the Emperor can +do everything, and that there is no law.'" + +"Ah, the brave man!" said Natalie Lind, quickly and passionately, with a +flash of pride in her eyes. "The brave man! If I had a brother, I would +ask him, 'When will you show the courage of Michael Bestoujif?'" + +Lord Evelyn glanced at her with a strange, admiring, proud look. "If she +had a brother!" What else, even with all his admiration and affection +for her, could he hope to be? + +Presently they wandered back into other and lighter subjects; and Brand, +at least, did not notice how the time was flying. When Natalie Lind +rose, and asked her father whether he would have coffee sent into the +smoking-room, or have tea in the drawing-room, Brand was quite +astonished and disappointed to find it so late. He proposed they should +at once go up to the drawing-room; and this was done. + +They had been speaking of musical instruments at dinner; and their host +now brought them some venerable lutes to examine--curiosities only, for +most of the metal strings were broken. Beautiful objects, however, they +were, in inlaid ivory or tortoise-shell and ebony; made, as the various +inscriptions revealed, at Bologna, or Padua, or Venice; and dating, some +of them, as far back as 1474. But in the midst of all this, Brand espied +another instrument on one of the small tables. + +"Miss Lind," said he, with some surprise, "do you play the zither?" + +"Oh yes, Natalie will play you something," her father said, carelessly; +and forthwith the girl sat down to the small table. + +George Brand retired into a corner of the room. He was passionately fond +of zither music. He thought no more about that examination of the lutes. + +"_Do you know one who can play the zither well?_" says the proverb. "_If +so, rejoice, for there are not two in the world._" However that might +be, Natalie Lind could play the zither, as one eager listener soon +discovered. He, in that far corner, could only see the profile of the +girl (just touched with a faint red from the shade of the nearest +candle, as she leaned over the instrument), and the shapely wrists and +fingers as they moved on the metallic strings. But was that what he +really did see when the first low tremulous notes struck the prelude to +one of the old pathetic _Volkslieder_ that many a time he had heard in +the morning, when the fresh wind blew in from the pines; that many a +time he had heard in the evening, when the little blue-eyed Kathchen and +her mother sung together as they sat and knitted on the bench in front +of the inn? Suddenly the air changes. What is this louder tramp? Is it +not the joyous chorus of the home-returning huntsmen; the lads with the +slain roedeer slung round their necks; that stalwart Bavarian keeper +hauling at his mighty black hound; old father Keinitz, with his three +beagles and his ancient breech-loader, hurrying forward to get the first +cool, vast, splendid bath of the clear, white wine? How the young +fellows come swinging along through the dust, their faces ablaze against +the sunset! Listen to the far, hoarse chorus!-- + + "Dann kehr ich von der Haide, + Zur hauslich stillen Freude, + Ein frommer Jagersmann! + Ein frommer Jagersmann! + Halli, hallo! halli, hallo! + Ein frommer Jagersmann!" + +White wine now, and likewise the richer red!--for there is a great +hand-shaking because of the Mr. Englishman's good fortune in having shot +three bucks: and the little Kathchen's eyes grow full, because they have +brought home a gentle-faced hind, likewise cruelly slain. And Kathchen's +mother has whisked inside, and here are the tall schoppen on the table; +and speedily the long, low room is filled with the tobacco-smoke. What! +another song, you thirsty old Keinitz, with the quavering voice? But +there is a lusty chorus to that too; and a great clinking of glasses; +and the Englishman laughs and does his part too, and he has called for +six more schoppen of red.... But hush, now! Have we come out from the +din and the smoke to the cool evening air? What is that one hears afar +in the garden? Surely it is the little Kathchen and her mother singing +together, in beautiful harmony, the old, familiar, tender _Lorelei_! The +zither is a strange instrument--it speaks. And when Natalie Lind, coming +to this air, sung in a low contralto voice an only half-suggested +second, it seemed to those in the room that two women were singing--the +one with a voice low and rich and penetrating, the other voice clear and +sweet like the singing of a young girl. "_Die Luft ist kuhl und es +dunkelt, und ruhig fliesset der Rhein._" Was it, indeed, Kathchen and +her mother? Were they far away in the beautiful pine-land, with the +quiet evening shining red over the green woods, and darkness coming over +the pale streams in the hollows? When Natalie Lind ceased, the elder of +the two guests murmured to himself, "Wonderful! wonderful!" The other +did not speak at all. + +She rested her hands for a moment on the table. + +"Natalushka," said her father, "is that all?" + +"I will not be called Natalushka, papa," said she; but again she bent +her hands over the silver strings. + +And these brighter and gayer airs now--surely they are from the laughing +and light-hearted South? Have we not heard them under the cool shade of +the olive-trees, with the hot sun blazing on the garden-paths of the +Villa Reale; and the children playing; and the band busy with its +dancing _canzoni_, the gay notes drowning the murmur and plash of the +fountains near? Look now!--far beneath the gray shadow of the +olive-trees--the deep blue band of the sea; and there the double-sailed +barca, like a yellow butterfly hovering on the water; and there the +large martingallo, bound for the cloud-like island on the horizon. Are +they singing, then, as they speed over the glancing waves?... "_O dolce +Napoli! O suol beato!_" ... for what can they sing at all, as they leave +us, if they do not sing the pretty, tender, tinkling "Santa Lucia?" + + "Venite all' agile + Barchetta mia! + Santa Lucia! + Santa Lucia!" + +... The notes grow fainter and fainter. Are the tall maidens of Capri +already looking out for the swarthy sailors, that these turn no longer +to the shores they are leaving?... "_O dolce Napoli! O suol beato!_" ... +Fainter and fainter grow the notes on the trembling string, so that you +can scarcely tell them from the cool plashing of the fountains ... +"_Santa Lucia!... Santa Lucia!_".... + +"Natalushka," said her father, laughing, "you must take us to Venice +now." + +The young Hungarian girl rose, and put the zither aside. + +"It is an amusement for the children," she said. + +She went to the piano, which was open, and took down a piece of +music--it was Kucken's "Maid of Judah." Now, hitherto, George Brand had +only heard her murmur a low, harmonious second to one or other of the +airs she had been playing; and he was quite unprepared for the passion +and fervor which her rich, deep, resonant, contralto voice threw into +this wail of indignation and despair. This was the voice of a woman, not +of a girl; and it was with the proud passion of a woman that she seemed +to send this cry to Heaven for reparation, and justice, and revenge. And +surely it was not only of the sorrows of the land of Judah she was +thinking!--it was a wider cry--the cry of the oppressed, and the +suffering, and the heart-broken in every clime-- + + "O blest native land! O fatherland mine! + How long for thy refuge in vain shall I pine?" + +He could have believed there were tears in her eyes just then; but there +were none, he knew, when she came to the fierce piteous appeal that +followed-- + + "Where, where are thy proud sons, so lordly in might? + All mown down and fallen in blood-welling fight! + Thy cities are ruin, thy valleys lie waste, + Their summer enchantment the foe hath erased. + O blest native land! how long shalt decline? + When, when will the Lord cry, 'Revenge, it is Mine!'" + +The zither speaks; but there is a speech beyond that of the zither. The +penetrating vibration of this rich and pathetic voice was a thing not +easily to be forgotten. When the two friends left the house, they found +themselves in the chill darkness of an English night in February. Surely +it must have seemed to them that they had been dwelling for a period in +warmer climes, with gay colors, and warmth, and sweet sounds around +them. They walked for some time in silence. + +"Well," said Lord Evelyn, at last, "what do you think of them?" + +"I don't know," said the other, after a pause. "I am puzzled. How did +you come to know them?" + +"I came to know Lind through a newspaper reporter called O'Halloran. I +should like to introduce you to him too." + +George Brand soon afterward parted from his friend, and walked away down +to his silent rooms over the river. The streets were dark and deserted, +and the air was still; yet there seemed somehow to be a tremulous, +passionate, distant sound in the night. It was no tinkling "Santa Lucia" +dying away over the blue seas in the south. It was no dull, sonorous +bell, suggesting memories of the far Campagna. Was it not rather the +quick, responsive echo that had involuntarily arisen in his own heart, +when he heard Natalie Lind's thrilling voice pour forth that proud and +indignant appeal, + + "When, when will the Lord cry, 'Revenge, it is Mine!'" + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +A STRANGER. + + +Ferdinand Lind was in his study, busy with his morning letters. It was a +nondescript little den, which he also used as library and smoking-room; +its chief feature being a collection of portraits--a most heterogeneous +assortment of engravings, photographs, woodcuts, and terra-cotta busts. +Wherever the book-shelves ceased, these began; and as there were a +great number of them, and as the room was small, Mr. Lind's friends or +historical heroes sometimes came into odd juxtaposition. In any case, +they formed a strange assemblage--Arndt and Korner; Stein; Silvio +Pellico and Karl Sand cheek by jowl; Pestal, Comte, Cromwell, Garibaldi, +Marx, Mazzini, Bem, Kossuth, Lassalle, and many another writer and +fighter. A fine engraving of Napoleon as First Consul was hung over the +mantel-piece, a pipe-rack intervening between it and a fac-simile of the +warrant for the execution of Charles I. + +Something in his correspondence had obviously annoyed the occupant of +this little study. His brows were bent down, and he kept his foot +nervously and impatiently tapping on the floor. When some one knocked, +he said, "Come in!" almost angrily, though he must have known who was +his visitor. + +"Good-morning, papa!" said the tall Hungarian girl, coming into the room +with a light step and a smile of welcome on her face. + +"Good-morning, Natalie!" said he, without looking up. "I am busy this +morning." + +"Oh, but, papa," said she, going over, and stooping down and kissing +him, "you must let me come and thank you for the flowers. They are more +beautiful than ever this time." + +"What flowers?" said he, impatiently. + +"Why," she said, with a look of astonishment, "have you forgotten +already? The flowers you always send for my birthday morning." + +But instantly she changed her tone. + +"Ah! I see. Good little children must not ask where the fairy gifts come +from. There, I will not disturb you, papa." + +She touched his shoulder caressingly as she passed. + +"But thank you again, papa Santa Claus." + +At breakfast, Ferdinand Lind seemed to have entirely recovered his +good-humor. + +"I had forgotten for the moment it was your birthday, Natalie," said he. +"You are quite a grown woman now." + +Nothing, however, was said about the flowers, though the beautiful +basket stood on a side-table, filling the room with its perfume. After +breakfast, Mr. Lind left for his office, his daughter setting about her +domestic duties. + +At twelve o'clock she was ready to go out for her accustomed morning +walk. The pretty little Anneli, her companion on these excursions, was +also ready; and together they set forth. They chatted frankly together +in German--the ordinary relations between mistress and servant never +having been properly established in this case. For one thing, they had +been left to depend on each other's society during many a long evening +in foreign towns, when Mr. Lind was away on his own business. For +another, Natalie Lind had, somehow or other, and quite unaided, arrived +at the daring conclusion that servants were human beings; and she had +been taught to regard human beings as her brothers and sisters, some +more fortunate than others, no doubt, but the least fortunate having the +greatest claim on her. + +"Fraulein," said the little Saxon maid, "it was I myself who took in the +beautiful flowers that came for you this morning." + +"Yes?" + +"Yes, indeed; and I thought it was very strange for a lady to be out so +early in the morning." + +"A lady!" said Natalie Lind, with a quick surprise. "Not dressed all in +black?" + +"Yes, indeed, she was dressed all in black." + +The girl was silent for a second or two. Then she said, with a smile, + +"It is not right for my father to send me a black messenger on my +birthday--it is not a good omen. And it was the same last year when we +were in Paris; the _concierge_ told me. Birthday gifts should come with +a white fairy, you know, Anneli--all silver and bells." + +"Fraulein," said the little German girl, gravely, "I do not think the +lady who came this morning would bring you any ill fortune, for she +spoke with such gentleness when she asked about you." + +"When she asked about me? What was she like, then, this black +messenger?" + +"How could I see, Fraulein?--her veil was so thick. But her hair was +gray; I could see that. And she had a beautiful figure--not quite as +tall as you, Fraulein; I watched her as she went away." + +"I am not sure that it is safe, Anneli, to watch the people whom Santa +Claus sends," the young mistress said, lightly. "However, you have not +told me what the strange lady said to you." + +"That will I now tell you, Fraulein," said the other, with an air of +importance. "Well, when I heard the knock at the door, I went instantly; +I thought it was strange to hear a knock so early, instead of the bell. +Then there was the lady; and she did not ask who lived there, but she +said, 'Miss Lind is not up yet? But then, Fraulein, you must +understand, she did not speak like that, for it was in English, and she +spoke very slowly, as if it was with difficulty. I would have said, +'Will the _gnadige Frau_ be pleased to speak German?' but I was afraid +it might be impertinent for a maid-servant to address a lady so. +Besides, Fraulein, she might have been a French lady, and not able to +understand our German." + +"Quite so, Anneli. Well?" + +"Then I told her I believed you were still in your room. Then she said, +still speaking very slowly, as if it was all learned, 'Will you be so +kind as to put those flowers just outside her room, so that she will get +them when she comes out?' And I said I would do that. Then she said, 'I +hope Miss Lind is very well;' and I said, 'Oh yes.' She stood for a +moment just then, Fraulein, as if not knowing whether to go away or not; +and then she asked again if you were quite well and strong and cheerful, +and again I said, 'Oh yes;' and no sooner had I said that than she put +something into my hand and went away. Would you believe it, Fraulein? it +was a sovereign--an English golden sovereign. And so I ran after her and +said, 'Lady, this is a mistake,' and I offered her the sovereign. That +was right, was it not, Fraulein?" + +"Certainly." + +"Well, she did not speak to me at all this time. I think the poor lady +has less English even than I myself; but she closed my hand over the +sovereign, and then patted me on the arm, and went away. It was then +that I looked after her. I said to myself, 'Well, there is only one lady +that I know who has a more beautiful figure than that--that is my +mistress.' But she was not so tall as you, Fraulein." + +Natalie Lind paid no attention to this adroit piece of flattery on the +part of her little Saxon maid. + +"It is very extraordinary, Anneli," she said, after awhile; then she +added, "I hope the piece of gold you have will not turn to dust and +ashes." + +"Look at it, Fraulein," said Anneli, taking out her purse and producing +a sound and solid English coin, about which there appeared to be no +demonology or witchcraft whatsoever. + +They had by this time got into Park Lane; and here the young mistress's +speculations about the mysterious messenger of Santa Claus were suddenly +cut short by something more immediate and more practical. There was a +small boy of about ten engaged in pulling a wheelbarrow which was +heavily laden with large baskets--probably containing washing; and he +was toiling manfully with a somewhat hopeless task. How he had got so +far it was impossible to say; but now that his strength was exhausted, +he was trying all sorts of ineffectual dodges--even tilting up the +barrow and endeavoring to haul it by the legs--to get the thing along. + +"If I were a man," said Natalie Lind, "I would help that boy." + +Then she stepped from the pavement. + +"Little boy," she said, "where are you taking that barrow?" + +The London _gamin_, always on the watch for sarcasm, stopped and stared +at her. Then he took off his cap and wiped his forehead; it was warm +work, though this was a chill February morning. Finally he said, + +"Well, I'm agoin' to Warrington Crescent, Maida Vale. But if it's when I +am likely to git there--bust me if I know." + +She looked about. There was a good, sturdy specimen of the London loafer +over at the park railings, with both hands up at his mouth, trying to +light his pipe. She went across to him. + +"I will give you half a crown if you will pull that barrow to Warrington +Crescent, Maida Vale." There was no hesitation in her manner; she looked +the loafer fair in the face. + +He instantly took the pipe from his mouth, and made some slouching +attempt at touching his cap. + +"Thank ye, miss. Thank ye kindly"--and away the barrow went, with the +small boy manfully pushing behind. + +The tall, black-eyed Hungarian girl and her rosy-cheeked attendant now +turned into the Park. There were a good many people riding by--fathers +with their daughters, elderly gentlemen very correctly dressed, smart +young men with a little tawny mustache, clear blue eyes, and square +shoulders. + +"Many of those Englishmen are very handsome," said the young mistress, +by chance. + +"Not like the Austrians, Fraulein," said Anneli. + +"The Austrians? What do you know about the Austrians?" said the other, +sharply. + +"When my uncle was ill at Prague, Fraulein," the girl said, "my mother +took me there to see him. We used to go out to the river, and go +half-way over the tall bridge, and then down to the 'Sofien-Insel.' Ah, +the beautiful place!--with the music, and the walks under the trees; and +there we used to see the Austrian officers. These _were_ handsome, with +there beautiful uniforms, and waists like a girl; and the beautiful +gloves they wore, too!--even when they were smoking cigarettes." + +Natalie Lind was apparently thinking of other things. She neither +rebuked nor approved Anneli's speech; though it was hard that the little +Saxon maid should have preferred to the sturdy, white-haired, +fair-skinned warriors of her native land the elegant young gentlemen of +Francis Joseph's army. + +"They are handsome, those Englishmen," Natalie Lind was saying, almost +to herself, "and very rich and brave; but they have no sympathy. All +their fighting for their liberty is over and gone; they cannot believe +there is any oppression now anywhere; and they think that those who wish +to help the sufferers of the world are only discontented and fanatic--a +trouble--an annoyance. And they are hard with the poor people and the +weak; they think it is wrong--that you have done wrong--if you are not +well off and strong like themselves. I wonder if that was really an +English lady who wrote the 'Cry of the Children.'" + +"I beg your pardon, Fraulein." + +"Nothing, Anneli. I was wondering why so rich a nation as the English +should have so many poor people among them--and such miserable poor +people; there is nothing like it in the world." + +They were walking along the broad road leading to the Marble Arch, +between the leafless trees. Suddenly the little Saxon girl exclaimed, in +an excited whisper, + +"Fraulein! Fraulein!" + +"What is it, Anneli?" + +"The lady--the lady who came with the flowers--she is behind us. Yes; I +am sure." + +The girl's mistress glanced quickly round. Some distance behind them +there was certainly a lady dressed altogether in black, who, the moment +she perceived that these two were regarding her, turned aside, and +pretended to pick up something from the grass. + +"Fraulein, Fraulein," said Anneli, eagerly; "let us sit down on this +seat. Do not look at her. She will pass." + +The sudden presence of this stranger, about whom she had been thinking +so much, had somewhat unnerved her; she obeyed this suggestion almost +mechanically; and waited with her heart throbbing. For an instant or two +it seemed as if that dark figure along by the trees were inclined to +turn and leave; but presently Natalie Lind knew rather than saw that +this slender and graceful woman with the black dress and the deep veil +was approaching her. She came nearer; for a second she came closer; some +little white thing was dropped into the girl's lap, and the stranger +passed quickly on. + +"Anneli, Anneli," the young mistress said, "the lady has dropped her +locket! Run with it--quick!" + +"No, Fraulein," said the other, quite as breathlessly, "she meant it for +you. Oh, look, Fraulein!--look at the poor lady--she is crying." + +The sharp eyes of the younger girl were right. Surely that slender +figure was being shaken with sobs as it hurried away and was lost among +the groups coming through the Marble Arch! Natalie Lind sat there as one +stupefied--breathless, silent, trembling. She had not looked at the +locket at all. + +"Anneli," she said, in a low voice, "was that the same lady? Are you +sure?" + +"Certain, Fraulein," said her companion, eagerly. + +"She must be very unhappy," said the girl. "I think, too, she was +crying." + +Then she looked at the trinket that the stranger had dropped into her +lap. It was an old-fashioned silver locket formed in the shape of a +heart, and ornamented with the most delicate filagree work; in the +centre of it was the letter N in old German text. When Natalie Lind +opened it, she found inside only a small piece of paper, on which was +written, in foreign-looking characters, "_From Natalie to Natalushka_." + +"Anneli, she knows my name!" the girl exclaimed. + +"Would you not like to speak to the poor lady, Fraulein?" said the +little German maid, who was very much excited, too. "And do you not +think she is sure to come this way again--to morrow, next day, some +other day? Perhaps she is ill or suffering, or she may have lost some +one whom you resemble--how can one tell?" + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +PIONEERS. + + +Before sitting down to breakfast, on this dim and dreary morning in +February, George Brand went to one of the windows of his sitting-room +and looked abroad on the busy world without. Busy indeed it seemed to +be--the steamers hurrying up and down the river, hansoms whirling along +the Embankment, heavily laden omnibuses chasing each other across +Waterloo Bridge, the underground railway from time to time rumbling +beneath those wintry-looking gardens, and always and everywhere the +ceaseless murmur of a great city. In the midst of all this eager +activity, he was only a spectator. Busy enough the world around him +seemed to be; he alone was idle. + +Well, what had he to look forward to on this dull day, when once he had +finished his breakfast and his newspapers? It had already begun to +drizzle; there was to be no saunter up to the park. He would stroll +along to his club, and say "Good morning" to one or two acquaintances. +Perhaps he would glance at some more newspapers. Perhaps, tired of +reading news that did not interest, and forming opinions never to be +translated into action, he would take refuge in the library. Somehow, +anyhow, he would desperately tide over the morning till lunch-time. + +Luncheon would be a break; but after--? He had not been long enough in +England to become familiar with the whist-set; similarly, he had been +too long abroad to be proficient in English billiards, even if he had +been willing to make either whist or pool the pursuit of his life. As +for afternoon calls and tea-drinking, that may be an interesting +occupation for young gentlemen in search of a wife, but it is too +ghastly a business for one who has no such views. What then? More +newspapers? More tedious lounging in the hushed library? Or how were the +"impracticable hours" to be disposed of before came night and sleep? + +George Brand did not stay to consider that, when a man in the prime of +health and vigor, possessed of an ample fortune, unfettered by anybody's +will but his own, and burdened by neither remorse nor regret, +nevertheless begins to find life a thing too tedious to be borne, there +must be a cause for it. On the contrary, instead of asking himself any +questions, he set about getting through the daily programme with an +Englishman's determination to be prepared for the worst. He walked up to +his club, the Waldegrave, in Pall Mall. In the morning-room there were +only two or three old gentlemen, seated in easy-chairs near the fire, +and grumbling in a loud voice--for apparently one or two were rather +deaf--about the weather. Brand glanced at a few more newspapers. Then a +happy idea occurred to him; he would go up to the smoking-room and smoke +a cigarette. + +In this vast hall of a place there were only two persons--one standing +with his back to the fire, the other lying back in an easy-chair. The +one was a florid, elderly gentleman, who was first cousin to a junior +Lord of the Treasury, and therefore claimed to be a profound authority +on politics, home and foreign. He was a harmless poor devil enough, from +whom a merciful Providence had concealed the fact that his brain-power +was of the smallest. His companion, reclining in the easy-chair, was a +youthful Fine Art Professor; a gelatinous creature, a bundle of languid +affectations, with the added and fluttering self-consciousness of a +school-miss. He was absently assenting to the propositions of the florid +gentleman; but it is probable that his soul was elsewhere. + +These propositions were to the effect that leading articles in a +newspaper were a mere impertinence; that he himself never read such +things; that the business of a newspaper was to supply news; and that an +intelligent Englishman was better capable of forming a judgment on +public affairs than the hacks of a newspaper-office. The intelligent +Englishman then proceeded to deliver his own judgment on the question of +the day, which turned out to be--to Mr. Brand's great surprise--nothing +more nor less than a blundering and inaccurate _resume_ of the opinions +expressed in a leading article in that morning's _Times_. At length this +one-sided conversation between a jackanapes and a jackass became too +intolerable for Brand, who threw away his cigarette, and descended once +more into the hall. + +"A gentleman wishes to see you, sir," said a boy; and at the same moment +he caught sight of Lord Evelyn. + +"Thank God!" he exclaimed, hurrying forward to shake his friend by the +hand. "Come, Evelyn, what are you up to? I can't stand England any +longer; will you take a run with me?--Algiers, Egypt, anywhere you like. +Let us drop down to Dover in the afternoon, and settle it there. Or what +do you say to the Riviera? we should be sure to run against some people +at one or other of the towns. Upon my life, if you had not turned up, I +think I should have cut my throat before lunch-time." + +"I have got something better for you to do than that," said the other; +"I want you to see O'Halloran. Come along; I have a hansom here. We +shall just catch him at Atkinson's, the book-shop, you know." + +"Very well; all right," Brand said, briskly: this seemed to be rather a +more cheerful business than cutting one's throat. + +"He's at his telegraph-wire all night," Lord Evelyn said, in the hansom. +"Then he lies down for a few hours' sleep on a sofa. Then he goes along +to his rooms in Pimlico for breakfast; but at Atkinson's he generally +stops for awhile on his way, to have his morning drink." + +"Oh, is that the sort of person?" + +"Don't make any mistake. O'Halloran may be eccentric in his ways of +living, but he is one of the most remarkable men I have ever run +against. His knowledge, his reading--politics, philosophy, everything, +in short--the brilliancy of his talking when he gets excited, even the +extraordinary variety of his personal acquaintance--why, there is +nothing going on that he does not know about." + +"But why has this Hibernian genius done nothing at all?" + +"Why? You might as well try to kindle a fire with a flash of lightning. +He has more political knowledge and more power of brilliant writing than +half the editors in London put together; but he would ruin any paper in +twenty-four hours. His first object would probably be to frighten his +readers out of their wits by some monstrous paradox; his next to show +them what fools they had been. I don't know how he has been kept on so +long where he is, unless it be that he deals with news only. I believe +he had to be withdrawn from the gallery of the House; he was very +impatient over the prosy members and his remarks about them began to +reach the Speaker's ear too frequently." + +"I gather, then, that he is merely a clever, idle, Irish vagabond, who +drinks." + +"He does not drink. And as for his Irish name I suppose he must be Irish +either by descent or birth; but he is continually abusing Ireland and +the Irish. Probably, however, he would not let anybody else do so." + +Mr. Atkinson's book-shop in the Strand was a somewhat dingy-looking +place, filled with publications mostly of an exceedingly advanced +character. Mr. Atkinson himself claimed to be a bit of a reformer; and +had indeed brought himself, on one or two occasions, within reach of the +law by issuing pamphlets of a somewhat too fearless aim. On this +occasion he was not in the shop; so the two friends passed through, +ascended a dark little stair, and entered a room which smelled strongly +of tobacco-smoke. + +The solitary occupant of this chamber, to whom Brand was immediately +introduced, was a man of about fifty, carelessly if not even shabbily +dressed, with large masses of unkempt hair, and eyes, dark gray, +deep-set, that had very markedly the look of the eyes of a lion. The +face was worn and pallid, but when lit up with excitement it was capable +of much expression; and Mr. O'Halloran, when he did become excited, got +very much excited indeed. He had laid aside his pipe, and was just +finishing his gin and soda-water, taken from Mr. Atkinson's private +store. + +However, the lion so seldom roars when it is expected to roar. Instead +of the extraordinary creature whom Lord Evelyn had been describing, +Brand found merely an Irish newspaper-reporter, who was either tired, or +indifferent, or sleepy. They talked about some current topic of the hour +for a few minutes; and then Mr. O'Halloran, with a yawn, rose and said +he must go home for breakfast. + +"Stay a bit, O'Halloran," Lord Evelyn said, in despair; "I--I +wanted--the fact is, Mr. Brand has been asking me about Ferdinand +Lind--" + +"Oh," said the bushy-headed man, with a quick glance of scrutiny at the +tall Englishman. "No, no," he added, with a smile, addressing himself +directly to Brand, "it is no use your touching anything of that kind. +You would want to know too much. You would want to have the earth dug +away from over the catacombs before you went below to follow a solitary +guide with a bit of candle. You could never be brought to understand +that the cardinal principle of all secret societies has been that +obedience is an end and aim in itself, and faith the chiefest of all the +virtues. You wouldn't take anything on trust; you have the pure English +temperament." + +Brand laughed, and said nothing. But O'Halloran sat down again, and +began to talk in an idle, hap-hazard sort of fashion of the various +secret societies, religious, social, political that had become known to +the world; and of their aims, and their working, and how they had so +often fallen away into the mere preservation of mummeries, or declared +themselves only by the commission of useless deeds of revenge. + +"Ah," said Brand, eagerly, "that is precisely what I have been urging on +Lord Evelyn. How can you know, in joining such an association, that you +are not becoming the accomplices of men who are merely planning +assassination? And what good can come of that? How are you likely to +gain anything by the dagger? The great social and political changes of +the world come in tides; you can neither retard them nor help them by +sticking pins in the sand." + +"I am not so sure," said the other, doubtfully. "A little wholesome +terrorism has sometimes played its part. The 1868 amnesty to the Poles +in Siberia was not so long after--not more than a year after, I +think--that little business of Berezowski. Faith, what a chance that man +had!" + +"Who?" + +"Berezowski," said he, with an air of contemplation. "The two biggest +scoundrels in the world in one carriage; and he had two shots at them. +Well, well, Orsini succeeded better." + +"Succeeded?" said George Brand. "Do you call that success? He had the +reward that he richly merited, at all events." + +"You do not think he was successful?" he said, calmly. "Then you do not +know how the kingdom of Italy came by its liberty. Who do you think was +the founder of that kingdom of Italy?--which God preserve till it become +something better than a kingdom! Not Cavour, with all his wiliness; not +your Galantuomo, the warrior who wrote up Aspromonte in the face of all +the world as the synonyme for the gratitude of kings; not Garibaldi, +who, in spite of Aspromonte, has become now merely the _concierge_ to +the House of Savoy. The founder of the kingdom of Italy was Felix +Orsini--and whether heaven or hell contains him, I drink his health!" + +He suited the action to the word. Brand looked on, not much impressed. + +"That is all nonsense, O'Halloran!" Lord Evelyn said, bluntly. + +"I tell you," O'Halloran said, with some vehemence, "that the 14th of +January, 1858, kept Louis Napoleon in such a state of tremor, that he +would have done a good deal more than lend his army to Sardinia to sweep +the Austrians out rather than abandon himself to the fate that Cavour +plainly and distinctly indicated. But for the threat of another dose of +Orsini pills, do you think you would ever have heard of Magenta and +Solferino?" + +He seemed to rouse himself a bit now. + +"No," he said, "I do not approve of assassination as a political weapon. +It seldom answers. But it has always been the policy of absolute +governments, and of their allies the priests and the police, to +attribute any murders that might occur to the secret societies, and so +to terrify stupid people. It is one of the commonest slanders in +history. Why, everybody knows how Fouche humbugged the First Napoleon, +and got up vague plots to prove that he, and he alone, knew what was +going on. When Karl Sand killed Kotzebue--oh, of course, that was a fine +excuse for the German kings and princes to have another raid against +free speech, though Sand declared he had nothing in the world to do with +either the Tugendbund or any such society. Who now believes that Young +Italy killed Count Rossi? Rossi was murdered by the agents of the +clericals; it was distinctly proved. But any stick is good enough to +beat a dog with. No matter what the slander is, so long as you can get +up a charge, either for the imprisoning of a dangerous enemy or for +terrifying the public mind. You yourself, Mr. Brand--I can see that your +only notion of the innumerable secret societies now in Europe is that +they will probably assassinate people. That's what they said about the +Carbonari too. The objects of the Carbonari were plain as plain could +be; but no sooner had General Pepe kicked out Ferdinand and put in a +constitutional monarch, than Austria must needs attribute every murder +that was committed, to those detestable Carbonari, so that she should +call upon Prussia and Russia to join her in strangling the infant +liberties of Europe. You see, we can't get at those Royal slanderers. We +can get at a man like Sir James Graham, when we force him to apologize +in the House of Commons for having said that Mazzini instigated the +assassination of the spies Emiliani and Lazzareschi."' + +"But, good heavens!" exclaimed Brand, "does anybody doubt that that was +a political double murder?" + +O'Halloran shrugged his shoulders, and smiled. + +"You may call it murder if you like; others might call it a fitting +punishment. But all I was asking you to do was to remove from your mind +that bugbear that the autocratic governments of Europe have created for +their own uses. No secret society--if you except those Nihilists, who +appear to have gone mad altogether--I say, no secret society of the +present day recognizes political assassination as a normal or desirable +weapon; though it may have to be resorted to in extreme cases. You, as +an individual, might, in certain circumstances, lawfully kill a man; but +that is neither the custom, nor the object, nor the chief thought of +your life." + +"And are there many of these societies?" Brand asked. + +O'Halloran had carelessly lit himself another pipe. + +"Europe is honey-combed with them. They are growing in secret as rapidly +as some kindred societies are growing in the open. Look at the German +socialists--in 1871 they polled only 120,000 votes; in 1874 they polled +340,000: I imagine that Herr Furst von Bismarck will find some +difficulty in suppressing that Frankenstein monster he coquetted so long +with. Then the Knights of Labor in America: you will hear something of +them by-and-by, or I am mistaken. In secret and in the open alike there +is a vast power growing and growing, increasing in volume and bulk from +hour to hour, from year to year, God only knows in what fashion it will +reveal itself. But you may depend on it that when the spark does spring +out of the cloud--when the clearance of the atmosphere is due--people +will look back on 1688, and 1798, and 1848 as mere playthings. The Great +Revolution is still to come; it may be nearer than some imagine." + +He had grown more earnest, both in his manner and his speech. + +"Well," George Brand said, "timid people may reassure themselves. Where +there are so many societiets, there will be as many different aims. +Some, like the wilder German socialists, will want a general +participation of property; others a demolition of the churches and +crucifixion of the priests; others the establishment of a Universal +Republic. There may be a great deal of powder stored up, but it will all +go off in different directions, in little fireworks." + +A quick light gleamed in those deep-set, lion-like eyes. + +"Very well said!" was the scornful comment. "The Czar himself could not +have expressed his belief, or at least his hope, more neatly. But let me +tell you, sir, that the masses of mankind are not such hopeless idiots +as are some of the feather-headed orators and writers who speak for +them; and that you will appeal to them in vain if you do not appeal to +their sense of justice, and their belief in right, and in the eternal +laws of God. You may have a particular crowd go mad, or a particular +city go mad; but the heart of the people beats true, and if you desire a +great political change, you must appeal to their love of fair and honest +dealing as between man and man. And even if the aims of these societies +are diverse, what then? What would you think, now, if it were possible +to construct a common platform, where certain aims at least could be +accepted by all, and become bonds to unite those who are hoping for +better things all over the earth? That did not occur to you as a +possible thing, perhaps? You have only studied the ways of kings and +governments--each one for itself. 'Come over my boundary, and I will +cleave your head; or, rather, I will send my common people to do it, for +a little blood-letting from time to time is good for that vile and +ignorant body.' But the vile and ignorant body may begin to tire of that +recurrent blood-letting, and might perhaps even say, 'Brother across the +boundary, I have no quarrel with you. You are poor and ignorant like +myself; the travail of the earth lies hard on you; I would rather give +you my hand. If I have any quarrel, surely it is with the tyrants of the +earth, who have kept both you and me enslaved; who have taken away our +children from us; who have left us scarcely bread. How long, O Lord, how +long? We are tired of the reign of Caesar; we are beaten down with it; +who will help us now to establish the reign of Christ?" + +He rose. Despite the unkempt hair, this man looked quite handsome now, +while this serious look was in his face. Brand began to perceive whence +his friend Evelyn had derived at least some of his inspiration. + +"Meanwhile," O'Halloran said, with a light, scornful laugh, +"Christianity has been of excellent service to Caesar; it has been the +big policeman of Europe. Do you think these poor wretches would have +been so patient if they had not believed there was some compensation +reserved for them beyond the grave? They would have had Caesar by the +throat by this time." + +"Then that scheme of co-operation you mentioned," Brand said, somewhat +hastily--for he saw that O'Halloran was about to leave--"that is what +Ferdinand Lind is working at?" + +The other started. + +"I cannot give you any information on that point," said O'Halloran, +gravely. "And I do not think you are likely to get much anywhere if you +are only moved by curiosity, however sympathetic and well-wishing." + +He took up his hat and stick. + +"Good-bye, Mr. Brand," said he; and he looked at him with a kindly look. +"As far as I can judge, you are now in the position of a man at a partly +opened door, half afraid to enter, and too curious to draw back. Well, +my advice to you is--Draw back. Or at least remember this: that before +you enter that room you must be without doubt--_and without fear_." + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +BON VOYAGE! + + +Fear he had none. His life was not so valuable to him that he would have +hesitated about throwing himself into any forlorn-hope, provided that he +was satisfied of the justice of the cause. He had dabbled a little in +philosophy, and not only believed that the ordinary altruistic instincts +of mankind could be traced to a purely utilitarian origin, but also +that, on the same theory, the highest form of personal gratification +might be found in the severest form, of self-sacrifice. He did not pity +a martyr; he envied him. But before the martyr's joy must come the +martyr's faith. Without that enthusiastic belief in the necessity and +nobleness and value of the sacrifice, what could there be but physical +pain and the despair of a useless death? + +But, if he had no fear, he had a superabundance of doubt. He had not all +the pliable, receptive, imaginative nature of his friend, Lord Evelyn. +He had more than the ordinary Englishman's distrust of secrecy. He was +not to be won over by the visions of a St. Simon, the eloquence of a +Fourier, the epigrams of a Proudhon: these were to him but intellectual +playthings, of no practical value. It was, doubtless, a novelty for a +young man brought up as Lord Evelyn had been to associate with a +gin-drinking Irish reporter, and to regard him as the mysterious apostle +of a new creed; Brand only saw in O'Halloran a light-headed, +imaginative, talkative person, as safe to trust to for guidance as a +will-o'-the-wisp. It is true that for the time being he had been +thrilled by the passionate fervor of Natalie Lind's singing; and many a +time since he could have fancied that he heard in the stillness of the +night that pathetic and vibrating appeal-- + + "When, when will the Lord cry, 'Revenge, it is mine?'" + +But he dissociated her from her father's schemes altogether. No doubt +she was moved by the generous enthusiasm of a young girl. She had a +warm, human, sympathetic heart; the cry of the poor and the suffering +appealed to her; and she was confident in the success of projects of +which she had been prudently kept ignorant. This was George Brand's +reading. He would not have Natalie Lind associated with Leicester Square +and a lot of garlic-eating revolutionaries. + +"But who is this man Lind?" he asked, impatiently, of Lord Evelyn. He +had driven up to his friend's house in Clarges Street, had had luncheon +with him, and they were now smoking a cigarette in the library. + +"You mean his nationality?" said his friend, laughing. "That has puzzled +me, too. He seems, at all events, to have had his finger in a good many +pies. He escaped into Turkey with Bem, I know: and he has been +imprisoned in Russia; and once or twice I have heard him refer to the +amnesty that was proclaimed when Louis Napoleon was presented with an +heir. But whether he is Pole, or Jew, or Slav, there is no doubt about +his daughter being a thorough Hungarian." + +"Not the least," said Brand, with decision. "I have seen lots of women +of that type in Pesth, and in Vienna, too: if you are walking in the +Prater you can always tell the Hungarian women as they drive past. But +you rarely see one as beautiful as she is." + +After awhile Lord Evelyn said, + +"This is Natalie's birthday. By-and-by I am going along to Bond Street +to buy some little thing for her." + +"Then she allows you to make her presents?" Brand said, somewhat coldly. + +"She and I are like brother and sister now," said the pale, deformed +lad, without hesitation. "If I were ill, I think she would be glad to +come and look after me." + +"You have already plenty of sisters who would do that.'" + +"By-the-way, they are coming to town next week with my mother. You must +come and dine with us some night, if you are not afraid to face the +chatter of such a lot of girls." + +"Have they seen Miss Lind?" + +"No, not yet." + +"And how will you explain your latest craze to them, Evelyn? They are +very nice girls indeed, you know; but--but--when they set full cry on +you--I suppose some day I shall have to send them a copy of a newspaper +from abroad, with this kind of thing in it: '_Compeared yesterday before +the Correctional Tribunal, Earnest Francis D'Agincourt, Baron Evelyn, +charged with having in his possession two canisters of an explosive +compound and fourteen empty missiles. Further, among the correspondence +of the accused was found--_'" + +"'_A letter from an Englishman named Brand_,'" continued Lord Evelyn, as +he rose and went to the window, "'_apparently written under the +influence of nightmare._' Come, Brand, I see the carriage is below. Will +you drive with me to the jeweller's?" + +"Certainly," said his friend; and at this moment the carriage was +announced. "I suppose it wouldn't do for me to buy the thing? You know I +have more money to spend on trinkets than you have." + +They were very intimate friends indeed. Lord Evelyn only said, with a +smile, + +"I am afraid Natalie wouldn't like it." + +But this choosing of a birthday present was a terrible business. The +jeweller was as other jewellers: his designs were mostly limited to the +representation of two objects--a butterfly for a woman, and a horseshoe +for a man. At last Brand, who had been walking about from time to time, +espied, in a distant case, an object which instantly attracted his +attention. It was a flat piece of wood or board, covered with blue +velvet; and on this had been twined an unknown number of yards of the +beautiful thread-like gold chain common to the jewellers' shop-windows +in Venice. + +"Here you are, Evelyn," Brand said at once. "Why not buy a lot of this +thin chain, and let her make it into any sort of decoration that she +chooses?" + +"It is an ignominious way out of the difficulty," said the other: but he +consented; and yard after yard of the thread-like chain was unrolled. +When allowed to drop together, it seemed to go into no compass at all. + +They went outside. + +"What are you going to do now, Brand?" + +The other was looking cheerless enough. + +"I?" he said, with the slightest possible shrug. "I suppose I must go +down to the club, and yawn away the time till dinner." + +"Then why not come with me? I have a commission or two from my +sisters--one as far out as Notting Hill; but after that we can drive +back through the Park and call on the Linds. I dare say Lind will be +home by that time." + +Lord Evelyn's friend was more than delighted. As they drove from place +to place he was a good deal more talkative than was his wont; and, among +other things, confessed his belief that Ferdinand Lind seemed much too +hard-headed a man to be engaged in mere visionary enterprises. But +somehow the conversation generally came round to Mr. Lind's daughter; +and Brand seemed very anxious to find out to what degree she was +cognizant of her father's schemes. On this point Lord Evelyn knew +nothing. + +At last they arrived at the house in Curzon Street, and found Mr. Lind +just on the point of entering. He stayed to receive them; went up-stairs +with them to the drawing-room, and then begged them to excuse him for a +few minutes. Presently Natalie Lind appeared. + +How this man envied his friend Evelyn the frank, sister-like way in +which she took the little present, and thanked him, for that and his +kind wishes! + +"Ah, do you know," she said, "what a strange birthday gift I had given +me this morning? See!" + +She brought over the old-fashioned silver locket, and told them the +whole story. + +"Is it not strange?" she said. "'_From Natalie to Natalushka_:' that is, +from myself to myself. What can it mean?" + +"Have you not asked your father, then, about his mysterious messenger?" +Brand said. He was always glad to ask this girl a question, for she +looked him so straight in the face with her soft, dark eyes, as she +answered, + +"He has only now come home. I will directly." + +"But why does your father call you Natalushka, Natalie?" asked Lord +Evelyn. + +There was the slightest blush on the pale, clear face. + +"It was a nickname they gave me, I am told, when I was child. They used +to make me angry." + +"And now, if one were to call you Natalushka?" + +"My anger would be too terrible," she said, with a smile. "Papa alone +dares to do that." + +Presently her father came into the room. + +"Oh, papa," said she, "I have discovered who the lady is whom you got to +bring me the flowers. And see! she has given me this strange little +locket. Look at the inscription--'_From Natalie to Natalushka_.'" + +Lind only glanced at the locket. His eyes were fixed on the girl. + +"Where did you see the--the lady?" he asked, coldly. + +"In the Park. But she did not stay a moment, or speak; she hurried on, +and Anneli thought she was crying. I almost think so too. Who was it, +papa? May I speak to her, if I see her again?" + +Mr. Lind turned aside for a moment. Brand, who was narrowly watching +him, was convinced that the man was in a passion of rage. But when he +turned again he was outwardly calm. + +"You will do nothing of the kind, Natalie," he said in measured tones. +"I have warned you before against making indiscriminate acquaintances; +and Anneli, if she is constantly getting such stupidities into her head, +must be sent about her business. I do not wish to hear anything more +about it. Will you ring and ask why tea has not been sent up?" + +The girl silently obeyed. Her father had never spoken to her in this +cold, austere tone before. She sat down at a small table, apart. + +Mr. Lind talked for a minute or two with his guests; then he said, + +"Natalie, you have the zither there; why do you not play us something?" + +She turned to the small instrument, and, after a second or two, played a +few notes: that was all. She rose and said, "I don't think I can play +this afternoon, papa;" and then she left the room. + +Mr. Lind pretended to converse with his guests as before; and tea came +in; but presently he begged to be excused for a moment, and left the +room. George Brand rose, and took a turn or two up and down. + +"It would take very little," he muttered--for his teeth were set--"to +make me throw that fellow out of the window!" + +"What do you mean?" Lord Evelyn said, in great surprise. + +"Didn't you see? She left the room to keep from crying. That miserable +Polish cutthroat--I should like to kick him down-stairs!" + +But at this moment the door opened, and father and daughter entered, +arm-in-arm. Natalie's face was a little bit flushed, but she was very +gentle and affectionate; they had made up that brief misunderstanding, +obviously. And she had brought in her hand a mob-cap of black satin: +would Lord Evelyn allow her to try the effect of twisting those +beautiful golden threads through it? + +"Natalushka," said her father, with great good-humor, "it is your +birthday. Do you think you could persuade Lord Evelyn and Mr. Brand to +come to your dinner-party?" + +It was then explained to the two gentlemen that on this great +anniversary it was the custom of Mr. Lind, when in London, to take his +daughter to dine at some French or Italian restaurant in Regent Street +or thereabouts. In fact, she liked to play at being abroad for an hour +or two; to see around her foreign faces, and hear foreign tongues. + +"I am afraid you will say that it is very easy to remind yourself of the +Continent," said Mr. Lind, smiling--"that you have only to go to a place +where they give you oily food and bad wine." + +"On the contrary," said Brand, "I should thing it very difficult in +London to imagine yourself in a foreign town; for London is drained. +However, I accept the invitation with pleasure." + +"And I," said Lord Evelyn. "Now, must we be off to dress?" + +"Not at all," said Natalie. "Do you not understand that you are abroad, +and walking into a restaurant to dine? And now I will play you a little +invitation--not to dinner; for you must suppose you have dined--and you +come out on the stairs of the hotel, and step into the black gondola." + +She went along to the small table, and sat down to the zither. There +were a few notes of prelude; and then they heard the beautiful low voice +added to the soft tinkling sounds. What did they vaguely make out from +that melodious murmur of Italian? + + Behold the beautiful night--the wind sleeps drowsily--the silent + shores slumber in the dark: + + "Sul placido elemento + Vien meco a navigar!" + + The soft wind moves--as it stirs among the leaves--it moves and + dies--among the murmur of the water: + + "Lascia l'amico tetto + Vien meco a navigar!" + + Now on the spacious mantle--of the already darkening heavens--see, + oh, the shining wonder--how the white stars tremble: + + "Ai raggi della luna + Vien meco a navigar!" + +Where were they? Surely they have passed out from the darkness of the +narrow canal, and are away on the broad bosom of the lagoon. The Place +of St. Mark is all aglow with its golden points of fire; the yellow +radiance spreads out into the night. And that other wandering mass of +gold--the gondola hung round with lamps, and followed by a dark +procession through the silence of the waters--does not the music come +from thence? Listen, now: + + "Sul l'onde addormentate + Vien meco a navigar!" + +Can they hear the distant chorus, in there at the shore where the people +are walking about in the golden glare of the lamps? + + "Vien meco a navigar! + Vien meco a navigar!" + +Or can some faint echo be carried away out to yonder island, where the +pale blue-white radiance of the moonlight is beginning to touch the tall +dome of San Giorgio? + + "--a navigar! + --a navigar!" + +"It seems to me," said Lord Evelyn, when the girl rose, with a smile on +her face, "that you do not need to go into Regent Street when you want +to imagine yourself abroad." + +Natalie looked at her watch. + +"If you will excuse me, I will go and get ready now." + +Well, they went to the big foreign restaurant; and had a small table all +to themselves, in the midst of the glare, and the heat, and the +indiscriminate Babel of tongues. And, under the guidance of Mr. Brand, +they adventured upon numerous articles of food which were more varied in +there names than in their flavor; and they tasted some of the compounds, +reeking of iris-root, that the Neapolitans call wine, until they fell +back on a flask of Chianti, and were content; and they regarded their +neighbors, and were regarded in turn. In the midst of it all, Mr. Lind, +who had been somewhat preoccupied, said suddenly. + +"Natalie, can you start with me for Leipsic to-morrow afternoon?" + +She was as prompt as a soldier. + +"Yes, papa. Shall I take Anneli or not?" + +"You may if you like." + +After that George Brand seemed to take very little interest in this +heterogeneous banquet: he stared absently at the foreign-looking people, +at the hurrying waiters, at the stout lady behind the bar. Even when Mr. +Lind told his daughter that her black satin mob-cap, with its wonderful +intertwistings of Venetian chain, looked very striking in a mirror +opposite, and when Lord Evelyn eagerly gave his friend the credit of +having selected that birthday gift, he did not seem to pay much heed. +When, after all was over, and he had wished Natalie "_Bon voyage_" at +the door of the brougham, Lord Evelyn said to him, + +"Come along to Clarges Street now and smoke a cigar." + +"No, thanks!" he said. "I think I will stroll down to my rooms now." + +"What is the matter with you, Brand? You have been looking very glum." + +"Well, I have been thinking that London is a depressing sort of a place +for a man to live in who does not know many people. It is very big, and +very empty. I don't think I shall be able to stand it much longer." + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +IN SOLITUDE. + + +A blustering, cold morning in March; the skies lowering, the wind +increasing, and heavy showers being driven up from time to time from the +black and threatening south-west. This was strange weather to make a man +think of going to the seaside; and of all places at the seaside to +Dover, and of all places in Dover to the Lord Warden Hotel, which was +sure to be filled with fear-stricken foreigners, waiting for the sea to +calm. Waters, as he packed the small portmanteau, could not at all +understand this freak on the part of his master. + +"If Lord Evelyn calls, sir," he said at the station, "when shall I say +you will be back?" + +"In a few days, perhaps. I don't know." + +He had a compartment to himself; and away the train went through the wet +and dismal and foggy country, with the rain pouring down the panes of +the carriage. The dismal prospect outside, however, did not matter much +to this solitary traveller. He turned his back to the window, and read +all the way down. + +At Dover the outlook was still more dismal. A dirty, yellow-brown sea +was rolling heavily in, springing white along the Admiralty Pier; gusts +of rain were sweeping along the thoroughfare between the station and the +hotel; in the hotel itself the rooms were occupied by a miscellaneous +collection of dissatisfied folk, who aimlessly read the advertisements +in Bradshaw, or stared through the dripping windows at the yellow waves +outside. This was the condition of affairs when George Brand took up his +residence there. He was quite alone; but he had a sufficiency of books +with him; and so deeply engaged was he with these, that he let the +ordinary coffee-room discussions about the weather pass absolutely +unheeded. + +On the second morning a number of the travellers plucked up heart of +grace and embarked, though the weather was still squally. George Brand +was not in the least interested as to the speculations of those who +remained about the responsibilities of the passage. He drew his chair +toward the fire, and relapsed into his reading. + +This day, however, was varied by his making the acquaintance of a little +old French lady, which he did by means of her two granddaughters, +Josephine, and Veronique. Veronique, having been pushed by Josephine, +stumbled against Mr. Brand's knee, and would inevitably have fallen into +the fireplace had he not caught her. Thereupon the little old lady, +hurrying across the room, and looking very much inclined to box the ears +of both Josephine and Veronique, most profusely apologized, in French, +to monsieur. Monsieur replying in that tongue, said it was of no +consequence whatever. Then madame greatly delighted at finding some one, +not a waiter, to whom she could speak in her own language, continued +the conversation, and very speedily made monsieur the confident of all +her hopes and fears about that terrible business the Channel passage. No +doubt monsieur was also waiting for this dreadful storm to abate? + +Monsieur quickly perceived that so long as this voluble little old +lady--who was as yellow as a frog, and had beady black eyes, but whose +manner was exceedingly charming--chose to attach herself to him, his +pursuit of knowledge was not likely to be attended with much success, so +he shut the book on his finger, and pleasantly said to her, + +"Oh no, madame; I am only waiting here for some friends." + +Madame was greatly alarmed: surely they would not cross in such +frightful weather? Monsieur ventured to think it was not so very bad. +Then the little French lady glanced out at the window, and threw up her +hands, and said with a shudder, + +"Frightful! Truly frightful. What should I do with those two little ones +ill, and myself ill? The sea might sweep them away!" + +Mr. Brand, having observed something of the manners of Josephine and +Veronique, was inwardly of opinion that the sea might be worse employed: +but what he said was-- + +"You could take a deck-cabin, madame." + +Madame again shuddered. + +"Your friends are English, no doubt, monsieur; the English are not so +much afraid of storms." + +"No, madame, they are not English; but I do not think they would let +such a day as this, for example, hinder them. They are not likely, +however, to be on their way back for a day or two. To-morrow I may run +over to Calais, just on the chance of crossing with them again." + +Here was a mad Englishman, to be sure! When people, driven by dire +necessity, had their heart in their mouth at the very notion of +encountering that rough sea, here was a person who thought of crossing +and returning for no reason on earth--a trifling compliment to his +friends--a pleasure excursion--a break in the monotony of the day! + +"And I shall be pleased to look after the little ones, madame," said he, +politely, "if you are going over." + +Madame thanked him very profusely; but assured him that so long as the +weather looked so stormy she could not think of intrusting Josephine and +Veronique to the mercy of the waves. + +Now, if George Brand had little hope of meeting his friends that day, +he acted pretty much as if he were expecting some one. First of all, he +had secured a saloon-carriage in the afternoon mail-train to London--an +unnecessary luxury for a bachelor well accustomed to the hardships of +travel. Then he had managed to procure a handsome bouquet of freshly-cut +flowers. Finally, there was some mysterious arrangement by which fruit, +cakes, tea, and wine were to be ready at a moment's notice in the event +of that saloon-carriage being required. + +Then, as soon as the rumor went through the hotel that the vessel was in +sight, away he went down the pier, with his coat-collar tightly +buttoned, and his hat jammed down. What a toy-looking thing the steamer +was, away out there in the mists or the rain, with the brown line of +smoke stretching back to the horizon! She was tossing and rolling a good +deal among the brown waves: he almost hoped his friends were not on +board. And he wished that all the more when he at length saw the people +clamber up the gangway--a miserable procession of half-drowned folk, +some of them scarcely able to walk. No; his friends were not there. He +returned to the hotel, and to his books. + +But the attentions of Josephine and Veronique had become too pressing; +so he retired from the reading-room, and took refuge in his own room +up-stairs. It fronted the sea. He could hear the long, monotonous, +continuous wash of the waves: from time to time the windows rattled with +the wind. + +He took from his portmanteau another volume from that he had been +reading, and sat down by the window. But he had only read a line or two +when he turned and looked absently out on the sea. Was he trying to +recall, amidst all that confused and murmuring noise, some other sound +that seemed to haunt him? + + "Who is your lady of love, oh ye that pass + Singing?" + +Was he trying to recall that pathetic thrill in his friend Evelyn's +voice which he knew was but the echo of another voice? He had never +heard Natalie Lind read: but he knew that that was how she had read, +when Evelyn's sensitive nature had heard and been permeated by the +strange tremor. And now, as he opened the book again, whose voice was it +he seemed to hear, in the silence of the small room, amidst the low and +constant murmur of the waves? + + "--And ye shall die before your thrones be won. + --Yea, and the changed world and the liberal sun + Shall move and shine with out us, and we lie + Dead; but if she too move on earth and live-- + But if the old world, with all the old irons rent, + Laugh and give thanks, shall we be not content? + Nay, we shall rather live, we shall not die, + Life being so little, and death so good to give. + + * * * * * * * + + "--But ye that might be clothed with all things pleasant, + Ye are foolish that put off the fair soft present, + That clothe yourselves with the cold future air; + When mother and father, and tender sister and brother, + And the old live love that was shall be as ye, + Dust, and no fruit of loving life shall be. + --She shall be yet who is more than all these were, + Than sister or wife or father unto us or mother." + +He turned again to the window, to the driven yellow sea, and the gusts +of rain. Surely there was no voice to be heard from other and farther +shores? + + "--Is this worth life, is this to win for wages? + Lo, the dead mouths of the awful gray-grown ages, + The venerable, in the past that is their prison, + In the outer darkness, in the unopening grave, + Laugh, knowing how many as ye now say have said-- + How many, and all are fallen, are fallen and dead: + Shall ye dead rise, and these dead have not risen? + --Not we but she, who is tender and swift to save. + + "--Are ye not weary, and faint not by the way, + Seeing night by night devoured of day by day, + Seeing hour by hour consumed in sleepless fire? + Sleepless: and ye too, when shall ye too sleep? + --We are weary in heart and head, in hands and feet, + And surely more than all things sleep were sweet, + Than all things save the inexorable desire + Which whoso knoweth shall neither faint nor weep." + +He rose, and walked up and down for a time. What would one not give for +a faith like that? + + "--Is this so sweet that one were fain to follow? + Is this so sure where all men's hopes are hollow, + Even this your dream, that by much tribulation + Ye shall make whole flawed hearts, and bowed necks straight? + --Nay, though our life were blind, our death were fruitless, + Not therefore were the whole world's high hope rootless; + But man to man, nation would turn to nation, + And the old life live, and the old great world be great." + +With such a faith--with that "inexorable desire" burning in the heart +and the brain--surely one could find the answer easy enough to the last +question of the poor creatures who wonder at the way-worn pilgrims, + + "--Pass on then, and pass by us and let us be, + For what light think ye after life to see? + And if the world fare better will ye know? + And if man triumph who shall seek you and say?" + +That he could answer for himself, at any rate. He was not one to put +much store by the fair soft present; and if he were to enter upon any +undertaking such as that he had had but a glimpse of, neither personal +reward nor hope of any immediate success would be the lure. He would be +satisfied to know that his labor or his life had been well spent. But +whence was to come that belief? whence the torch to kindle the sacred +fire? + +The more he read, during these days of waiting, of the books and +pamphlets he had brought with him, the less clear seemed the way before +him. He was struck with admiration when he read of those who had +forfeited life or liberty in this or the other cause; and too often with +despair when he came to analyze their aims. Once or twice, indeed, he +was so moved by the passionate eloquence of some socialist writer that +he was ready to say, "Well, the poor devils have toiled long enough; +give them their turn, let the revolution cost what it may!" And then +immediately afterward: "What! Stir up the unhappy wretches to throw +themselves on the bayonets of the standing armies of Europe? There is no +emancipation for them that way." + +But when he turned from the declamation and the impracticable designs of +this impassioned literature to the vast scheme of co-operation that had +been suggested rather than described to him, there seemed more hope. If +all these various forces that were at work could be directed into one +channel, what might they not accomplish? Weed out the visionary, the +impracticable, the anarchical from their aims; and then what might not +be done by this convergence of all these eager social movements? Lind, +he argued with himself, was not at all a man likely to devote himself to +optimistic dreams. Further than that--and here he was answering a +suspicion that again and again recurred to him--what if, in such a great +social movement, men were to be found who were only playing for their +own hand? That was the case in every such combination. But false or +self-seeking agents neither destroyed the nobleness of the work nor +could defeat it in the end if it were worthy to live. They might try to +make for themselves what use they could of the current, but they too +were swept onward to the sea. + +So he argued, and communed, and doubted, and tried to believe. And all +through it--whether he paced up and down by the sea in the blustering +weather, or strolled away through the town and up the face of the tall +white cliff, or lay awake in the dark night, listening to the rush and +moan of the waves--all through these doubts and questions there was +another and sweeter and clearer sound, that seemed to come from afar-- + + "She shall be yet who is more than all these were, + Than sister or wife or father unto us or mother." + +However loud the sea was at night, that was the sound he heard, clear +and sweet--the sound of a girl's voice, that had joy in it, and faith in +the future, and that spoke to him of what was to be. + +Well, the days passed; and still his friends did not come. He had many +trips across, to while away the time: and had become great friends with +the stout, black-haired French captain. He had conveyed Josephine and +Veronique and their little grandmother safely over, and had made them as +comfortable as was possible under trying circumstances. And always and +every day there were freshly-cut flowers and renewed fruit, and a +re-engaged saloon-carriage waiting for those strangers who did not come; +until both hotel people and railway people began to think Mr. Brand as +mad as the little French lady assured herself he was, when he said he +meant to cross the Channel twice for nothing. + +At last--at last! He had strolled up to the Calais station, and was +standing on the platform when the train came in. But there was no need +for him to glance eagerly up and down at the now opening doors; for who +was this calmly regarding him--or rather regarding him with a smile of +surprise? Despite the big furred cloak and the hood, he knew at once; he +darted forward, lifted the lower latch and opened the door, and gave her +his hand. + +"Oh, how do you do, Mr. Brand?" said she, with a pleasant look of +welcome. "Who could have expected to meet you here?" + +He was confused, embarrassed, bewildered. This voice so strangely +recalled those sounds that had been haunting him for days. He could only +stammer out, + +"I--I happened to be at Dover, and thought I would run over here for a +little bit. How lucky you are--it is such a beautiful day for crossing." + +"That is good news; I must tell papa," said Natalie, cheerfully, as she +turned again to the open door. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +A DISCOVERY. + + +"And you are going over too? And to London also? Oh, that will be very +nice." + +It seemed so strange to hear this voice, that had for days sounded to +him as if it were far away, now quite close, and talking in this +friendly and familiar fashion. Then she had brought the first of the +spring with her. The air had grown quite mild: the day was clear and +shining; even the little harbor there seemed bright and picturesque in +the sun. He had never before considered Calais a very beautiful place. + +And as for her; well, she appeared pleased to have met with this +unexpected companion; and she was very cheerful and talkative as they +went down to the quay, these two together. And whether it was that she +was glad to be relieved from the cramped position of the carriage, or +whether it was that his being taller than she gave countenance to her +height, or whether it was merely that she rejoiced in the sweet air and +the exhilaration of the sunlight, she seemed to walk with even more than +her usual proudness of gait. This circumstance did not escape the eye of +her father, who was immediately behind. + +"Natalie," said he, peevishly, "you are walking as if you wore a sword +by your side." + +She did not seem sorely hurt. + +"'Du Schwert an meiner Linken!'" she said, with a laugh. "It is my +military cloak that makes you think so, papa." + +Why, even this cockle-shell of a steamer looked quite inviting on so +pleasant a morning. And there before them stretched the blue expanse of +the sea, with every wave, and every ripple on every wave, flashing a +line of silver in the sunlight. No sooner were they out of the +yellow-green waters of the harbor than Mr. Brand had his companions +conducted on to the bridge between the paddle-boxes; and the little +crop-haired French boy brought them camp-stools, and their faces were +turned toward England. + +"Ah!" said Natalie, "many a poor wretch has breathed more freely when +at last he found himself looking out for the English shore. Do you +remember old Anton Pepczinski and his solemn toast, papa?" + +She turned to George Brand. + +"He was an old Polish gentleman, who used to come to our house in the +evening, he and a few others of his countrymen, to smoke and play chess. +But always, some time during the evening, he would say, 'Gentlemen, a +Pole is never ungrateful. I call on you to drink this toast: _To the +white chalk-line beyond the sea_!'" And then she added, quickly, "If I +were English, how proud I should be of England!" + +"But why?" he said. + +"Because she has kept liberty alive in Europe," said the girl, proudly; +"because she offers an exile to the oppressed, no matter from whence +they come; because she says to the tyrant, 'No, you cannot follow.' Why, +when even your beer-men your dray-men know how to treat a Haynau, what +must the spirit of the country be? If only those fine fellows could have +caught Windischgratz too!" + +Her father laughed at her vehemence; Brand did not. That strange +vibration in the girl's voice penetrated him to the heart. + +"But then," said he, after a second or two, "I have been amusing myself +for some days back by reading a good deal of political writing, mostly +by foreigners; and if I were to believe what they say, I should take it +that England was the most superstitious, corrupt, enslaved nation on the +face of the earth! What with its reverence for rank, its worship of the +priesthood--oh, I cannot tell you what a frightful country it is!" + +"Who were the writers?" Mr. Lind asked. + +Brand named two or three, and instantly the attention of the others +seemed arrested. + +"Oh, that is the sort of literature you have been reading?" he said, +with a quick glance. + +"I have had some days' idleness." + +"Excuse me," said the other, with a smile; "but I think you might have +spent it better. That kind of literature only leads to disorder and +anarchy. It may have been useful at one time; it is useful no longer. +Enough of ploughing has been done: we want sowing done now--we want +writers who will build up instead of pulling down. Those Nihilists," he +added, almost with a sigh, "are becoming more and more impracticable. +They aim at scarcely anything beyond destruction." + +Here Natalie changed the conversation. This was too bright and +beautiful a day to admit of despondency. + +"I suppose you love the sea, Mr. Brand?" she said. "All Englishmen do. +And yachting--I suppose you go yachting?" + +"I have tried it; but it is too tedious for me," said Brand. "The sort +of yachting I like is in a vessel of five thousand tons, going three +hundred and eighty miles a day. With half a gale of wind in your teeth +in the 'rolling Forties,' then there is some fun." + +"I must go over to the States very soon," Mr. Lind said. + +"Papa!" + +"The worst of it is," her father said, without heeding that exclamation +of protest, "that I have so much to do that can only be done by word of +mouth." + +"I wish I could take the message for you," Brand said, lightly. "When +the weather looks decent, I very often take a run across to New York, +put up for a few days at the Brevoort House, and take the next ship +home. It is very enjoyable, especially if you know the officers. Then +the bagman--I have acquired a positive love for the bagman." + +"The what?" said Natalie. + +"The bagman. The 'commy' his friends call him. The commercial traveller, +don't you know? He is a most capital fellow--full of life and fun, +desperately facetious, delighting in practical jokes: altogether a +wonderful creature. You begin to think you are in another +generation--before England became melancholy--the generation, for +example, that roared over the adventures of Tom and Jerry." + +Natalie did not know who Tom and Jerry were; but that was of little +consequence; for at this moment they began to descry "the white +chalk-line beyond the sea"--the white line of the English coast. And +they went on chatting cheerfully; and the sunlight flashed its diamonds +on the blue waters around them, and the white chalk cliffs became more +distinct. + +"And yet it seems so heartless for one to be going back to idleness," +Natalie Lind said, absently. "Papa works as hard in England as anywhere +else; but what can I do? To think of one going back to peaceful days, +and comfort, and pleasant friends, when others have to go through such +misery, and to fight against such persecution! When Vjera Sassulitch +offered me her hand--" + +She stopped abruptly, with a quick, frightened look, first at George +Brand, then at her father. + +"You need not hesitate, Natalie," her father said, calmly. "Mr. Brand +has given me his word of honor he will reveal nothing he may hear from +us." + +"I do not think you need be afraid," said Brand; but all the same he was +conscious of a keen pang of mortification. He, too, had noticed that +quick look of fright and distrust. What did it mean, then? "_You are +beside us, you are near to us; but you are not of us, you are not with +us._" + +He was silent, and she was silent too. She seemed ashamed of her +indiscretion, and would say nothing further about Vjera Sassulitch. + +"Don't imagine, Mr. Brand," said her father, to break this awkward +silence, "that what Natalie says is true. She is not going to be so idle +as all that. No; she has plenty of hard work before her--at least, I +think it hard work--translating from the German into Polish." + +"I wish I could help," Brand said, in a low voice. "I do not know a word +of Polish." + +"You help?" she said, regarding him with the beautiful dark eyes, that +had a sudden wonder in them. "Would you, if you knew Polish?" + +He met that straight, fearless glance without flinching; and he said +"Yes," while they still looked at each other. Then her eyes fell; and +perhaps there was the slightest flush of embarrassment, or pleasure, on +the pale, handsome face. + +But how quickly her spirits rose! There was no more talk of politics as +they neared England. He described the successive ships to her; he called +her attention to the strings of wild-duck flying up Channel; he named +the various headlands to her. Then, as they got nearer and nearer, the +little Anneli had to be sought out, and the various travelling +impedimenta got together. It did not occur to Mr. Lind or his daughter +as strange that George Brand should be travelling without any luggage +whatever. + +But surely it must have occurred to them as remarkable that a bachelor +should have had a saloon-carriage reserved for himself--unless, indeed, +they reflected that a rich Englishman was capable of any whimsical +extravagance. Then, no sooner had Miss Lind entered this carriage, than +it seemed as though everything she could think of was being brought for +her. Such flowers did not grow in railway-stations--especially in the +month of March. Had the fruit dropped from the telegraph-poles? Cakes, +wine, tea, magazines and newspapers appeared to come without being asked +for. + +"Mr. Brand," said Natalie, "you must be an English Monte Cristo: do you +clap your hands, and the things appear?" + +But a Monte Cristo should never explain. The conjuror who reveals his +mechanism is no longer a conjuror. George Brand only laughed, and said +he hoped Miss Lind would always find people ready to welcome her when +she reached English shores. + +As they rattled along through those shining valleys--the woods and +fields and homesteads all glowing in the afternoon sun--she had put +aside her travelling-cloak and hood, for the air was quite mild. Was it +the drawing off of the hood, or the stir of wind on board the steamer, +that had somewhat disarranged her hair?--at all events, here and there +about her small ear or the shapely neck there was an escaped curl of +raven-black. She had taken off her gloves, too: her hands, somewhat +large, were of a beautiful shape, and transparently white. The magazines +and newspapers received not much attention--except from Mr. Lind, who +said that at last he should see some news neither a week old nor +fictitious. As for these other two, they seemed to find a wonderful lot +to talk about, and all of a profoundly interesting character. With a +sudden shock of disappointment George Brand found that they were almost +into London. + +His hand-bag was at once passed by the custom-house people; and he had +nothing to do but say good-bye. His face was not over-cheerful. + +"Well, it was a lucky meeting," Mr. Lind said. "Natalie ought to thank +you for being so kind to her." + +"Yes; but not here," said the girl, and she turned to him. "Mr. Brand, +people who have travelled so far together should not part so quickly: it +is miserable. Will you not come and spend the evening with us?" + +"Natalie will give us something in the way of an early dinner," said Mr. +Lind, "and then you can make her play the zither for you." + +Well, there was not much hesitation about his accepting. That +drawing-room, with its rose-and-green-shaded candles, was not as other +drawing-rooms in the evening. In that room you could hear the fountains +plashing in the Villa Reale, and the Capri fishermen singing afar, and +the cattle-bells chiming on the Campagna, and the gondolas sending their +soft chorus across the lagoon. When Brand left his bag in the cloak-room +at the station he gave the porter half a crown for carrying thither, +which was unnecessary. Nor was there any hopeless apathy on his face as +he drove away with these two friends through the darkening afternoon, +in the little hired brougham. When they arrived in Curzon Street, he was +even good enough to assist the timid little Anneli to descend from the +box; but this was in order that he might slip a tip into the hand of the +coachman. The coachman scarcely said "Thank you." It was not until +afterward that he discovered he had put half a sovereign into his +breeches-pocket as if it were an ordinary sixpence. + +Natalie Lind came down to dinner in a dress of black velvet, with a +mob-cap of rose-red silk. Round her neck she wore a band of Venetian +silver-work, from the centre of which was suspended the little +old-fashioned locket she had received in Hyde Park. George Brand +remembered the story, and perhaps was a trifle surprised that she should +wear so conspicuously the gift of a stranger. + +She was very friendly, and very cheerful. She did not seem at all +fatigued with her travelling; on the contrary, it was probably the +sea-air and the sunlight that had lent to her cheek a faint flush of +color. But at the end of dinner her father said. + +"Natalushka, if we go into the drawing-room, and listen to music, after +so long a day, we shall all go to sleep. You must come into the +smoking-room with us." + +"Very well, papa." + +"But, Miss Lind," the other gentleman remonstrated, "a velvet +dress--tobacco-smoke--" + +"My dresses must take their chance," said Miss Lind. "I wear them to +please my friends, not to please chance acquaintances who may call +during the day." + +And so they retired to the little den at the end of the passage; and +Natalie handed Mr. Brand a box of cigars to choose from, and got down +from the rack her father's long-stemmed, red-bowled pipe. Then she took +a seat in the corner by the fire, and listened. + +The talk was all about that anarchical literature that Brand had been +devouring down at Dover; and he was surprised to find how little +sympathy Lind had with writing of that kind, though he had to confess +that certain of the writers were personal friends of his own. Natalie +sat silent, listening intently, and staring into the fire. + +At last Brand said, + +"Of course, I had other books. For example, one I see on your shelves +there." He rose, and took down the "Songs before Sunrise." "Miss Lind," +he said, "I am afraid you will laugh at me; but I have been haunted with +the notion that you have been teaching Lord Evelyn how to read poetry, +or that he has been unconsciously imitating you. I heard him repeat some +passages from 'The Pilgrims,' and I was convinced he was reproducing +something he had heard from you. Well--I am almost ashamed to ask you--" + +A touch of embarrassment appeared on the girl's face, and she glanced at +her father. + +"Yes, certainly, Natalie; why not?" + +"Well," she said, lightly, "I cannot read if I am stared at. You must +remain as you are." + +She took the book from him, and passed to the other side of the room, so +that she was behind them both. There was silence for an instant or two +as she turned over the leaves. + +Then the silence was broken; and if Brand was instantly assured that his +surmise was correct, he also knew that here was a more pathetic +cadence--a prouder ring--than any that Lord Evelyn had thrown into the +lines. She read at random--a passage here, a passage there--but always +it seemed to him that the voice was the voice of a herald proclaiming +the new awakening of the world--the evil terrors of the night +departing--the sunlight of liberty and right and justice beginning to +shine over the sea. And these appeals to England! + + "Oh thou, clothed round with raiment of white waves, + Thy brave brows lightening through the gray wet air, + Thou, lulled with sea-sounds of a thousand caves, + And lit with sea-shine to thy inland lair, + Whose freedom clothed the naked souls of slaves + And stripped the muffled souls of tyrants bare, + Oh, by the centuries of thy glorious graves, + By the live light of the earth that was thy care, + Live, thou must not be dead, + Live; let thy armed head + Lift itself up to sunward and the fair + Daylight of time and man, + Thine head republican, + With the same splendor on thine helmless hair + That in his eyes kept up a light + Who on thy glory gazed away their sacred sight." + +The cry there was in this voice! Surely his heart answered, + + "Oh Milton's land, what ails thee to be dead!" + +Was it in this very room, he wondered, that the old Polish refugee was +used to lift up his trembling hand and bid his compatriots drink to "the +white chalk-line beyond the sea?" How could he forget, as he and she +sat together that morning, and gazed across the blue waters to the far +and sunlit line of coast, the light that shone on her face as she said, +"If I were English, how proud I should be of England!" And this England +of her veneration and her love--did it not contain some, at least, who +would answer to her appeal? + +Presently Natalie Lind shut the book and gently laid it down, and stole +out of the room. She was gone only for a few seconds. When she returned, +she had in her hand a volume of sketches, of which she had been speaking +during dinner. + +He did not open this volume at once. On the contrary, he was silent for +a little while; and then he looked up, and addressed Natalie, with a +strange grave smile on his face. + +"I was about to tell your father, Miss Lind, when you came in, that if I +could not translate for you, or carry a message across the Atlantic for +him, he might at least find something else that I can do. At all events, +may I say that I am willing to join you, if I can be of any help at +all?" + +Ferdinand Lind regarded him for a second, and said, quite calmly, + +"It is unnecessary. You have already joined us." + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +A NIGHT IN VENICE. + + +The solitary occupant of this railway-carriage was apparently reading; +but all the same he looked oftener at his watch than at his book. At +length he definitely shut the volume and placed it in his +travelling-bag. Then he let down the carriage-window, and looked out +into the night. + +The heavens were clear and calm; the newly-risen moon was but a thin +crescent of silver; in the south a large planet was shining. All around +him, as it seemed, stretched a vast plain of water, as dark and silent +and serene as the overarching sky. Then, far ahead, he could catch a +glimpse of a pale line stretching across the watery plain--a curve of +the many-arched viaduct along which the train was thundering; and beyond +that again, and low down at the horizon, two or three minute and dusky +points of orange. These lights were the lights of Venice. + +This traveller was not much hampered with luggage. When finally the +train was driven into the glare of the station, and the usual roar and +confusion began, he took his small bag in his hand and rapidly made his +way through the crowd; then out and down the broad stone steps, and into +a gondola. In a couple of minutes he was completely away from all that +glare and bustle and noise; nothing around him but darkness and an +absolute silence. + +The city seemed as the City of the Dead. The tall and sombre buildings +on each side of the water-highway were masses of black--blackest of all +where they showed against the stars. The ear sought in vain for any +sound of human life; there was nothing but the lapping of the water +along the side of the boat, and the slow, monotonous plash of the oar. + +Father and farther into the silence and the darkness; and now here and +there a window, close down to the water, and heavily barred with +rectangular bars of iron, shows a dull red light; but there is no sound, +nor any passing shadow within. The man who is standing by the +hearse-like cabin of the gondola observes and thinks. These black +buildings; the narrow and secret canals; the stillness of the night: are +they not suggestive enough--of revenge, a quick blow, and the silence of +the grave? And now, as the gondola still glides on, there is heard a +slow and distant tolling of bells. The Deed is done, then?--no longer +will the piteous hands be thrust out of the barred window--no longer +will the wild cry for help startle the passer-by in the night-time. And +now again, as the gondola goes on its way, another sound--still more +muffled and indistinct--the sound of a church organ, with the solemn +chanting of voices. Are they praying for the soul of the dead? The sound +becomes more and more distant; the gondola goes on its way. + +The new-comer has no further time for these idle fancies. At the Rialto +bridge he stops the gondola, pays the man, and goes ashore. Then, +rapidly ascending the steps, he crosses the bridge, descends the other +side, and again jumps into a gondola. All this the work of a few +seconds. + +But it was obvious he had been expected. He gave no instructions to the +two men in this second gondola. They instantly went to work, and with a +rapid and powerful stroke sent the boat along--with an occasional +warning cry as they swept by the entrance to one or other of the smaller +canals. Finally, they abruptly left the Grand Canal, close by the Corte +d'Appello, and shot into a narrow opening that seemed little more than a +slit between the buildings. + +Here they had to go more cautiously; the orange light of their lamp +shining as they passed on the empty archways, and on the iron-barred +windows, and slimy steps. And always this strange silence in the dead or +sleeping city, and the monotonous plash of the oars, and the deep low +cry of "Sia premi!" or "Sia stali!" to give warning of their approach. +But, indeed, that warning was unnecessary; they were absolutely alone in +this labyrinth of gloomy water-ways. + +At length they shot beneath a low bridge, and stopped at some steps +immediately beyond. Here one of the men, getting out, proceeded to act +as guide to the stranger. They had not far to go. They passed first of +all into a long, low, and foul-smelling archway, in the middle of which +was a narrow aperture protected by an iron gate. The man lit a candle, +opened the gate, and preceded his companion along a passage and up a +stone staircase. The atmosphere of the place was damp and sickly; the +staircase was not more than three feet in width; the feeble glimmer of +the candle did but little to dispel the darkness. Even that was +withdrawn; for the guide, having knocked thrice at a door, blew out the +candle, and retreated down-stairs. + +"_The night is dark, brother._" + +"_The dawn is near._" + +Instantly the door was thrown open; the dark figure of a man was seen +against the light; he said, "Come in! come in!" and his hand was +outstretched. The stranger seemed greatly surprised. + +"What, you, Calabressa!" he exclaimed. "Your time has not yet expired!" + +"What, no? My faith, I have made it expire!" said the other, airily, and +introducing a rather badly pronounced French word or two into his +Italian. "But come in, come in; take a seat. You are early; you may have +to wait." + +He was an odd-looking person, this tall, thin, elderly man, with the +flowing yellow-white hair and the albino eyes. There was a semi-military +look about his braided coat; but, on the other hand, he wore the cap of +a German student--of purple velvet, with a narrow leather peak. He +seemed to be proud of his appearance. He had a gay manner. + +"Yes, I am escaped. Ah, how fine it is! You walk about all day as you +please; you smoke cigarettes; you have your coffee; you go to look at +the young English ladies who come to feed the pigeons in the place." + +He raised two fingers to his lips, and blew a kiss to all the world. + +"Such complexions! A wild rose in every cheek! But listen, now; this is +not about an English young lady. I go up to the Church of St. +Mark--besides the bronze horses. I am enjoying the air, when I hear a +sound; I turn; over there I see open windows; ah! the figure in the +white dressing-gown! It is the _diva_ herself. They play the _Barbiere_ +to-night, and she is practicing as she dusts her room. _Una voce poco +fa_--it thrills all through the square. She puts the ornaments on the +mantel-piece straight. _Lo giurai, la vincero!_--she goes to the mirror +and makes the most beautiful attitude. Ah, what a spectacle--the black +hair all down--the white dressing-gown--_In sono docile_"--and again he +kissed his two fingers. Then he said, + +"But now, you. You do not look one day older. And how is Natalie?" + +"Natalie is well, I believe," said the other, gravely. + +"You are a strange man. You have not a soft heart for the pretty +creatures of the world; you are implacable. The little Natalushka, then; +how is she?" + +"The little Natalushka is grown big now; she is quite a woman." + +"A woman! She will marry an Englishman, and become very rich: is not +that so?" + +"Natalie--I mean, Natalushka will not marry," said the other coldly. +"She knows she is very useful to me. She knows I have no other." + +"_Maintenant_: the business--how goes that?" + +"Elsewhere, well; in England, not quite so well," said Ferdinand Lind. +"But what can you expect? The English think they have no need of +co-operation, except to get their groceries cheap. Why, everything is +done in the open air there. If a scoundrel gets a lash too many in +prison, you have it before Parliament next week. If a school-boy is +kicked by his master, you have all the newspapers in the country ablaze. +The newspapers govern England. A penny journal has more power than the +commander-in-chief." + +"Then why do you remain in England?" + +"It is the safest for me, personally. Then there is most to be done +there. Again, it is the head-quarters of money. Do you see, Calabressa? +One must have money, or one cannot work." + +The albino-looking man lit a cigarette. + +"You despair, then, of England? No, you never despair." + +"There is a prospect. The Southern Englishman is apathetic; he is +interested only, as I have said, in getting his tea and sugar cheap. +But the Northern Englishman is vigorous. The trades' associations in the +North are vast, powerful, wealthy; but they are suspicious of anything +foreign. Members join us; the associations will not. But what do you +think of this, Calabressa: if one were to have the assistance of an +Englishman whose father was one of the great iron-masters; whose name is +well known in the north; who has a large fortune, and a strong will?" + +"You have got such a man?" + +"Not yet. He is only a Friend. But if I do not misjudge him, he will be +a Companion soon. He is a man after my own heart; once with us, all the +powers of the earth will not turn him back." + +"And his fortune?" + +"He will help us with that also, no doubt." + +"But how did it occur to Providence to furnish you with an assistant so +admirably equipped?" + +"Do you mean how did I chance to find him? Through a young English +lord--an amiable youth, who is a great friend of Natalie's--of +Natalushka's. Why, he has joined us, too--" + +"An English milord!" + +"Yes; but it is merely from poetical sympathy. He is pleasant and +warm-hearted, but to us not valuable; and he is poor." + +At this moment a bell rung, apparently in the adjoining apartment. +Calabressa jumped from his chair, and hastened to a door on his left, +which he opened. A _portiere_ prevented anything being seen in the +chamber beyond. + +"Has the summons been answered?" a voice asked, from the other side. + +"Yes, sir," said Calabressa. "Brother Lind is here." + +"That is well." + +The door was again shut, and Calabressa resumed his seat. + +"Brother Lind," said he, in a low voice, though he leaned back in his +chair, and still preserved that gay manner, "I suppose you do not know +why you have been summoned?" + +"Not I." + +"_Bien._ But suppose one were to guess? Suppose there is a gentleman +somewhere about who has been carrying his outraging of one's common +notions of decency just a little too far? Suppose it is necessary to +make an example? You may be noble, and have great wealth, and honor, and +smiles from beautiful women; but if some night you find a little bit of +steel getting into your heart, or if some morning you find your coffee +as you drink it burn all the way down until you can feel it burn no +more--what then? You must bid good-bye to your mistresses, and to your +gold plates and feasts, and your fountains spouting perfumes, and all +your titles; is not that so?" + +"But who is it?" said Lind, suddenly bending forward. + +The other regarded him for a moment, playfully. + +"What if I were to mention the '_Starving Cardinal_?'" + +"Zaccatelli!" exclaimed Lind, with a ghastly pallor appearing for a +moment in the powerful iron-gray face. + +Calabressa only laughed. + +"Oh yes, it is beautiful to have all these fine things. And the unhappy +devils who are forced to pawn their last sticks of furniture at the +Monte di Pieta, rather than have their children starve when bread is +dear; how it must gratify them to think of his Eminence seizing the +funds of that flourishing institution to buy up the whole of the grain +in the Papal States! What an admirable speculation! How kind to the +poor, on the part of the Secretary to the Vicar of Christ! What!--do you +think because I am a cardinal I am not to make a profit in corn? I tell +you those people have no business to be miserable--they have no business +to go and pawn their things; if I am allowed to speculate with the +funds, why not? _Allons donc!_--It is a devilish fine world, merry +gentlemen!" + +"But--but why have they summoned me?" Lind said, in the same low voice. + +"Who knows?" said the other, lightly. "I do not. Come, tell me more +about the little Natalushka. Ah, do I not remember the little minx, when +she came in, after dinner, among all those men, with her '_Eljen a +haza_!' What has she grown to? what has she become?" + +"Natalie is a good girl," said her father; but he was thinking of other +things. + +"Beautiful?" + +"Some would say so." + +"But not like the English young ladies?" + +"Not at all." + +"I thought not. I remember the black-eyed little one--with her pride in +Batthyany, and her hatred in Gorgey, and all the rest of it. The little +Empress!--with her proud eyes, and her black eyelashes. Do you remember +at Dunkirk, when old Anton Pepczinski met her for the first time? +'_Little Natalushka, if I wait for you, will you marry me when you grow +up?_" Then the quick answer, "_I am not to be called any longer by my +nursery name; but if you will fight for my country, I will marry you +when I grow up._'" + +Light-hearted as this man Calabressa was, having escaped from prison, +and eagerly inclined for chatter, after so long a spell of enforced +silence, he could not fail to perceive that his companion was hardly +listening to him. + +"Mais, mon frere, a quoi bon le regarder?" he said, peevishly. "If it +must come, it will come. Or is it the poor cardinal you pity? That was a +good name they invented for him, anyway--_il cardinale affamatore_." + +Again the bell rung, and Ferdinand Lind started. When he turned to the +door, it was with a look on his face of some anxiety and apprehension--a +look but rarely seen there. Then the _portiere_ was drawn aside to let +some one come through: at the same moment Lind caught a brief glimpse of +a number of men sitting round a small table. + +The person who now appeared, and whom Lind saluted with great respect, +was a little, sallow-complexioned man, with an intensely black beard and +mustache, and a worn expression of face. He returned Lind's salutation +gravely, and said, + +"Brother, the Council thank you for your prompt answer to the summons. +Meanwhile, nothing is decided. You will attend here to-morrow night." + +"At what hour, Brother Granaglia?" + +"Ten. You will now be conveyed back to the Rialto steps; from thence you +can get to your hotel." + +Lind bowed acquiescence; and the stranger passed again through the +_portiere_ and disappeared. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +VACILLATION. + + +"Evelyn, I distrust that man Lind." + +The speaker was George Brand, who kept impatiently pacing up and down +those rooms of his, while his friend, with a dreamy look on the pale and +fine face, lay back in an easy-chair, and gazed out of the clear panes +before him. It was night; the blinds had not been drawn; and the row of +windows, framed by their scarlet curtains, seemed a series of dark-blue +pictures, all throbbing with points of golden fire. + +"Is there any one you do not distrust?" said Lord Evelyn, absently. + +"I hope so. But with regard to Lind: I had distinctly to let him know +he must not assume that I am mixed up in any of his schemes until I +definitely say so. When, in answer to my vague proposal, he told me I +had already pledged myself, I confess I was startled for a moment. Of +course it was all very well for him afterward to speak of my declared +sympathy, and of my promise to reveal nothing, as being quite enough, at +least for the earlier stage. If that is so, you may easily acquire +adherents. But either I join with a definite pledge, or not at all." + +"I am inclined to think you had better not join," said Lord Evelyn, +calmly. + +After that there was silence; and Brand's companion lay and looked on +the picture outside, that was so dark and solemn and still. In the midst +of all that blaze of various and trembling lights was the unseen +river--unseen but for the myriad reflections that showed the ripples of +the water; then the far-reaching rows of golden stars, spanning the +bridges, and marking out the long Embankment sweep beyond St. Thomas's +Hospital. On the other side black masses of houses--all their +commonplace detail lost in the mysterious shadow; and over them the +silver crescent of the moon just strong enough to give an edge of white +to a tall shot-tower. Then far away in the east, in the clear dark sky, +the dim gray ghost of a dome; scarcely visible, and yet revealing its +presence; the great dome of St. Paul's. + +This beautiful, still scene--the silence was so intense that the +footfall of a cab-horse crossing Waterloo Bridge could be faintly heard, +as the eye followed the light slowly moving between the two rows of +golden stars--seemed to possess but little interest for the owner of +these rooms. For the moment he had lost altogether his habitual air of +proud reserve. + +"Evelyn," he said, abruptly, "was it not in these very rooms you +insisted that, if the work was good, one need not be too scrupulous +about one's associates?" + +"I believe so," said the other, indifferently: he had almost lost hope +of ever overcoming his friend's inveterate suspicion. + +"Well," Brand said, "there is something in that. I believe in the work +that Lind is engaged in, if I am doubtful about him. And if it pleases +you or him to say that I have joined you merely because I express +sympathy, and promise to say nothing, well and good. But you: you are +more than that?" + +The question somewhat startled Lord Evelyn; and his pale face flushed a +little. + +"Oh yes," he said; "of course. I--I cannot precisely explain to you." + +"I understand. But, if I did really join, I should at least have you for +a companion." + +Lord Evelyn turned and regarded him. + +"If you were to join, it might be that you and I should never see each +other again in this world. Have I not told you?--Your first pledge is +that of absolute obedience; you have no longer a right to your own life; +you become a slave, that others may be free." + +"And you would have me place myself in the power of a man like Lind?" +Brand exclaimed. + +"If it were necessary," said Lord Evelyn, "I should hold myself +absolutely at the bidding of Lind; for I am convinced he is an honest +man, as he is a man of great ability and unconquerable energy and will. +But you would no more put yourself in Lind's power than in mine. Lind is +a servant, like the rest of us. It is true he has in some ways a sort of +quasi-independent position, which I don't quite understand; but as +regards the Society that I have joined, and that you would join, he is a +servant, as you would be a servant. But what is the use of talking? Your +temperament isn't fitted for this kind of work." + +"I want to see my way clear," Brand said, almost to himself. + +"Ah, that is just it; whereas, you must go blindfold." + +Thereafter again silence. The moon had risen higher now; and the paths +in the Embankment gardens just below them had grown gray in the clearer +light. Lord Evelyn lay and watched the light of a hansom that was +rattling along by the side of the river. + +"Do you remember," said Brand, with a smile, "your repeating some verses +here one night; and my suspecting you had borrowed the inspiration +somewhere? My boy, I have found you out. What I guessed was true. I made +bold to ask Miss Lind to read, that evening I came up with them from +Dover." + +"I know it," said Lord Evelyn, quietly. + +"You have seen her, then?" was the quick question. + +"No; she wrote to me." + +"Oh, she writes to you?" the other said. + +"Well, you see, I did not know her father had gone abroad, and I called. +As a rule, she sees no one while her father is away; on the other hand, +she will not say she is not at home if she is at home. So she wrote me a +note of apology for refusing to see me; and in it she told me you had +been very kind to them, and how she had tried to read, and had read very +badly, because she feared your criticism--" + +"I never heard anything like it!" Brand said; and then he corrected +himself. "Well, yes, I have; I have heard you, Evelyn. You have been an +admirable pupil." + +"Now when I think of it," said his friend, putting his hand in his +breast-pocket, "this letter is mostly about you, Brand. Let me see if +there is anything in it you may not see. No; it is all very nice and +friendly." + +He was about to hand over the letter, when he stopped. + +"I do believe," he said, looking at Brand, "that you are capable of +thinking Natalie wrote this letter on purpose you should see it." + +"Then you do me a great injustice," Brand said, without anger. "And you +do her a great injustice. I do not think it needs any profound judge of +character to see what that girl is." + +"For that is one thing I could never forgive you, Brand." + +"What?" + +"If you were to suspect Natalie Lind." + +This was no private and confidential communication that passed into +Brand's hand, but a frank, gossiping, sisterly note, stretching out +beyond its initial purpose. And there was no doubt at all that it was +mostly about Brand himself; and the reader grew red as he went on. He +had been so kind to them at Dover; and so interested in her papa's work; +and so anxious to be of service and in sympathy with them. And then she +spoke as if he were definitely pledged to them; and how proud she was to +have another added to the list of her friends. George Brand's face was +as red as his beard when he folded up the letter. He did not immediately +return it. + +"What a wonderful woman that is!" said he, after a time. "I did not +think it would be left for a foreigner to teach me to believe in +England." + +Lord Evelyn looked up. + +"Oh," Brand said, instantly, "I know what you would ask: 'What is my +belief worth?' 'How much do I sympathize?' Well, I can give you a plain +answer: a shilling in the pound income-tax. If England is this +stronghold of the liberties of Europe--if it is her business to be the +lamp-bearer of freedom--if she must keep her shores inviolate as the +refuge of those who are oppressed and persecuted, well, then, I would +pay a shilling income-tax, or double that, treble that, to give her a +navy that would sweep the seas. For a big army there is neither +population, nor sustenance, nor room; but I would give her such a navy +as would let her put the world to defiance." + +"I wish Natalie would teach you to believe in a few other things while +she is about it," said his friend, with a slight and rather sad smile. + +"For example?" + +"In human nature a little bit, for example. In the possibility of a +woman being something else than a drawing-room peacock, or worse. Do you +think she could make you believe that it is possible for a woman to be +noble-minded, unselfish, truth-speaking, modest, and loyal-hearted?" + +"I presume you are describing Natalie Lind herself." + +"Oh," said his friend, with a quick surprise, "then you admit there may +be an exception, after all? You do not condemn the whole race of them +now, as being incapable of even understanding what frank dealing is, or +honor, or justice, or anything beyond their own vain and selfish +caprices?" + +George Brand went to the window. + +"Perhaps," said he, "my experience of women has been unfortunate, +unusual. I have not had much chance, especially of late years, of +studying them in their quiet domestic spheres. But otherwise I suppose +my experience is not unusual. Every man begins his life, in his salad +days, by believing the world to be a very fine thing, and women +particularly to be very wonderful creatures--angels, in short, of +goodness, and mercy, and truth, and all the rest of it. Then, judging by +what I have seen and heard, I should say that about nineteen men out of +twenty get a regular facer--just at the most sensitive period of their +life; and then they suddenly believe that women are devils, and the +world a delusion. It is bad logic; but they are not in a mood for +reason. By-and-by the process of recovery begins: with some short, with +others long. But the spring-time of belief, and hope, and rejoicing--I +doubt whether that ever comes back." + +He spoke without any bitterness. If the facts of the world were so, they +had to be accepted. + +"I swallowed my dose of experience a good many years ago," he continued, +"but I haven't got it out of my blood yet. However, I will admit to you +the possibility of there being a few women like Natalie Lind." + +"Well, this is better, at all events," Lord Evelyn said, cheerfully. + +"Beauty, of course, is a dazzling and dangerous thing," Brand said; "for +a man always wants to believe that fine eyes and a sweet voice have a +sweet soul behind them. And very often he finds behind them something in +the shape of a soul that a dog or a cat would be ashamed to own. But as +for Natalie Lind, I don't think one can be deceived. She shows too much. +She vibrates too quickly--too inadvertently--to little chance touches. I +did suspect her, I will confess. I thought she was hired to play the +part of decoy. But I had not seen her for ten minutes before I was +convinced she was playing no part at all." + +"But goodness gracious, Brand, what are we coming to?" Lord Evelyn said, +with a laugh. "What! We already believe in England, and patriotism, and +the love of freedom? And we are prepared to admit that there is one +woman--positively, in the world, one woman--who is not a cheat and a +selfish coquette? Why, where are we to end?" + +"I don't think I said only one woman," Brand replied, quite +good-naturedly; and then he added, with a smile, "You ask where we are +to end. Suppose I were to accept your new religion, Evelyn? Would that +please you? And would it please her, too?" + +"Ah!" said his companion, looking up with a quick glance of pleasure. +But he would argue no more. + +"Perhaps I have been too suspicious. It is a habit; I have had to look +after myself pretty much through the world; and I don't overvalue the +honesty of people I don't know. But when I once set my hand to the work, +I am not likely to draw back." + +"You could be of so much more value to them than I can," said Lord +Evelyn, wistfully. "I don't suppose you spend more than half of your +income." + +"Oh, as to that," said Brand, at once, "that is a very different matter. +If they like to take myself and what I can do, well and good; money is a +very different thing." + +His companion raised himself in his chair; and there was surprise on his +face. + +"How can you help them so well as with your money?" he cried. "Why, it +is the very thing they want most." + +"Oh, indeed!" said Brand, coldly. "You see, Evelyn, my father was a +business man; and I may have inherited a commercial way of looking at +things. If I were to give away a lot of money to unknown people, for +unknown purposes, I should say that I was being duped, and that they +were putting the money in their own pocket." + +"My dear fellow!" Lord Evelyn protested; "the need of money is most +urgent. There are printing-presses to be kept going; agents to be paid; +police-spies to be bribed--there is an enormous work to be done, and +money must be spent." + +"All the same," said Brand, who was invariably most resolved when he was +most quiet in his manner, "I shall prefer not running the chance of +being duped in that direction. Besides, I am bound in honor not to do +anything of the kind. I can fling myself away--this is my own lookout; +and my life, or the way I spend it, is not of great consequence to me. +But my father's property, if anything happens to me, ought to go intact +to my sister's boys, to whom, indeed, I have left it by will. I will say +to Lind, 'Is it myself or my money that is wanted: you must choose.'" + +"The question would be an insult." + +"Oh, do you think so? Very well; I will not ask it. But that is the +understanding." Then he added, more lightly, "Why, would you have the +Pilgrim start with his pocket full of sovereigns? His staff and his +wallet are all he is entitled to. And when one is going to make a big +plunge, shouldn't one strip?" + +There was no answer; for Lord Evelyn's quick ear had caught the sound of +wheels in the adjacent street. + +"There is my trap," he said, looking at his watch as he rose. + +Waters brought the young man his coat, and then went out to light him +down-stairs. + +"Good-night, Brand. Glad to see you are getting into a wholesomer frame +of mind. I shall tell Natalie you are now prepared to admit that there +is in the world at least one woman who is not a cheat." + +"I hope you will not utter a word to Miss Lind of any of the nonsense we +have been talking," said Brand, hastily, and with his face grown red. + +"All right. By-the-way, when are you coming up to see the girls?" + +"To-morrow afternoon: will that do?" + +"Very well; I shall wait in." + +"Let me see if I remember the order aright," said Brand, holding up his +fingers and counting. "Rosalys, Blanche, Ermentrude, Agnes, Jane, +Frances, Geraldine: correct?" + +"Quite. I think their mother must forget at times. Well, good-night." + +"Good-night--good-night!" + +Brand returned to the empty room, and threw wide open one of the +windows. The air was singularly mild for a night in March; but he had +been careful of his friend. Then he dropped into an easy-chair, and +opened a letter. + +It was the letter from Natalie Lind, which he had held in his hand ever +since, eagerly hoping that Evelyn would forget it--as, in fact, he had +done. And now with what a strange interest he read and re-read it; and +weighed all its phrases; and tried to picture her as she wrote these +lines; and studied even the peculiarities of the handwriting. There was +a quaint, foreign look here and there--the capital B, for example, was +written in German fashion; and that letter occurred a good many times. +It was Mr. Brand, and Mr. Brand, over and over again--in this friendly +and frank gossip, which had all the brightness of a chat over a new +acquaintance who interests one. He turned to the signature. "_Your +friend, Natalie._" + +Then he walked up and down, slowly and thoughtfully; but ever and again +he would turn to the letter to see that he had quite accurately +remembered what she had said about the delight of the sail from Calais, +and the beautiful flowers at Dover and her gladness at the prospect of +their having this new associate and friend. Then the handwriting again. +The second stroke of the N in her name had a little notch at the +top--German fashion. It looked a pretty name, as she wrote it. + +Then he went to the window, and leaned on the brass bar, and looked out +on the dark and sleeping world, with its countless golden points of +fire. He remained there a long time, thinking--of the past, in which he +had fancied his life was buried; of the present, with its bewildering +uncertainties; of the future, with its fascinating dreams. There might +be a future for him, then, after all; and hope; and the joy of +companionship? Surely that letter meant at least so much. + +But then the boundlessness, the eager impatience, of human wishes! +Farther and farther, as he leaned and looked out, without seeing much of +the wonderful spectacle before him, went his thoughts and eager hopes +and desires. Companionship; but with whom? And might not the spring-time +of life come back again, as it was now coming back to the world in the +sweet new air that had begun to blow from the South? And what message +did the soft night-wind bring him but the name of Natalie? And Natalie +was written in the clear and shining heavens, in letters of fire and +joy; and the river spoke of Natalie; and the darkness murmured Natalie. + +But his heart, whispering to him--there, in the silence of the night, in +the time when dreams abound, and visions of what may be--his heart, +whispering to him, said--"Natalushka!" + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +A COMMISSION. + + +When Ferdinand Lind looked out the next day from the window of his +hotel, it was not at all the Venice of chromolithography that lay before +him. The morning was wild, gray, and gloomy, with a blustering wind +blowing down from the north; the broad expanse of green water ruffled +and lashed by continual squalls; the sea-gulls wheeling and dipping over +the driven waves; the dingy masses of shipping huddled along the wet and +deserted quays; the long spur of the Lido a thin black line between the +green sea and purple sky; and the domed churches over there, and the +rows of tall and narrow and grumbling palaces overlooking the canals +nearer at hand, all alike dismal and bedraggled and dark. + +When he went outside he shivered; but at all events these cold, damp +odors of the sea and the rainy wind were more grateful than the +mustiness of the hotel. But the deserted look of the place! The +gondolas, with their hearse-like coverings on, lay empty and untended by +the steps, as if waiting for a funeral procession. The men had taken +shelter below the archways, where they formed groups, silent, +uncomfortable, sulky. The few passers-by on the wet quays hurried along +with their voluminous black cloaks wrapped round their shoulders, and +hiding most of the mahogany-colored faces. Even the plague of beggars +had been dispersed; they had slunk away shivering into the foul-smelling +nooks and crannies. There was not a soul to give a handful of maize to +the pigeons in the Place of St. Mark. + +But when Lind had got round into the Place, what was his surprise to +find Calabressa having his breakfast in the open air at a small table in +front of a _cafe_. He was quite alone there; but he seemed much content. +In fact, he was laughing heartily, all to himself, at something he had +been reading in the newspaper open before him. + +"Well," said Lind, when they had exchanged salutations, "this is a +pleasant sort of a morning for one to have one's breakfast outside!" + +"My faith," said Calabressa, "if you had taken as many breakfasts as I +have shut up in a hole, you would be glad to get the chance of a +mouthful of fresh air. Sit down, my friend." + +Lind glanced round, and then sat down. + +"My good friend Calabressa," he said presently, "for one connected as +you are with certain persons, do you not think now that your costume is +a little conspicuous? And then your sitting out here in broad +daylight--" + +"My friend Lind," said he, with a laugh, "I am as safe here as if I were +in Naples, which I believe to be the safest place in the world for one +not in good odor with the authorities. And if there was a risk, would I +not run it to hear my little nightingale over there when she opens the +casements? Ah! she is the most charming Rosina in the world." + +"Yes, yes," said Lind. "I am not speaking of you. But--the others. The +police must guess you are not here for nothing." + +"Oh, the others? Rest assured. The police might as well try to put their +fingers on a globule of quicksilver. It is but three days since they +left the Piazza del Popolo, Torre del Greco. To-morrow, if their +business is finished to-night, they will vanish again; and I shall be +dismissed." + +"If their business is finished?" repeated Lind, absently. "Yes; but I +should like to know why they have summoned me all the way from England. +They cannot mean--" + +"My dear friend Lind," said Calabressa, "you must not look so grave. +Nothing that is going to happen is worth one's troubling one's self +about. It is the present moment that is of consequence; and at the +present moment I have a joke for you. You know Armfeldt, who is now at +Berne: they had tried him only four times in Berlin; and there was only +a little matter of nine years' sentence against him. Listen." + +He took up the _Osservatore_, and read out a paragraph, stating that Dr. +Julius Armfeldt had again been tried _in contumaciam_, and sentenced to +a further term of two years' imprisonment, for seditious writing. +Further, the publisher of his latest pamphlet, a citizen of Berne, had +likewise been sentenced in his absence to twelve months' imprisonment. + +"Do they think Armfeldt will live to be a centenarian, that they keep +heaping up those sentences against him? Or is it as another inducement +for him to go back to his native country and give himself up? It is a +great joke, this childish proceeding; but a Government should not +declare itself impotent. It is like the Austrians when they hanged you +and the others in effigy. Now I remember, the little Natalushka was +grieved that she was not born then; for she wished to see the spectacle, +and to have killed the people who insulted her father." + +"I am afraid it is no joke at all," Lind said, gloomily. "Those Swiss +people are craven. What can you expect from a nation of hotel-waiters? +They cringe before every bully in Europe; you will find that, if +Bismarck insists, the Federal Council will expel Armfeldt from +Switzerland directly. No; the only safe refuge nowadays for the +reformers, the Protestants the pioneers of Europe, is England; and the +English do not know it; they do not think of it. They are so accustomed +to freedom that they believe that is the only possible condition, and +that other nations must necessarily enjoy it. When you talk to them of +tyranny, of political persecution, they laugh. They cannot understand +such a thing existing. They fancy it ceased when Bomba's dungeons were +opened." + +"For my part," said Calabressa, lighting a cigarette, and calling for a +small glass of cognac, "I am content with Naples." + +"And the protection of pickpockets?" + +"My friend," said the other, coolly, "if you refer to the most honorable +the association of the Camorristi, I would advise you not to speak too +loud." + +Calabressa rose, having settled his score with the waiter. + +"Allons!" said he. "What are you going to do to day?" + +"I don't know," said Lind, discontentedly. "May the devil fly away with +this town of Venice! I never come here but it is either freezing or +suffocating." + +"You are in an evil humor to-day, friend Lind; you have caught the +English spleen. Come, I have a little business to do over at Murano; the +breeze will do you good. And I will tell you the story of my escape." + +The time had to be passed somehow. Lind walked with his companion along +to the steps, descended, and jumped into a gondola, and presently they +were shooting out into the turbulent green water that the wind drove +against the side of the boat in a succession of sharp shocks. Seated in +the little funereal compartment, they could talk without much fear of +being heard by either of the men; and Calabressa began his tale. It was +not romantic. It was simply a case of bribery; the money to effect which +had certainly not come out of Calabressa's shallow pockets. In the +midst of the story--or, at least, before the end of it--Lind said, in a +low voice, + +"Calabressa, have you any sure grounds for what you said about +Zaccatelli?" + +His companion glanced quickly outside. + +"It is you are now indiscreet," he said, in an equally low voice. "But +yes; I think that is the business. However," he added, in a gayer tone, +"what matter? To-day is not to-morrow; to-morrow will shift for itself." +And therewith he continued his story, though his listener seemed +singularly preoccupied and thoughtful. + +They arrived at the island, got out, and walked into the court-yard of +one of the smaller glass-works. There were one or two of the workmen +passing; and here something occurred that seemed to arrest Lind's +attention. + +"What, here also?" said he, in a low voice. + +"Every one; the master included. It is with him I have to do this little +piece of business. Now you will be so good as to wait for a short time, +will you not?--and it is warm in there; I will be with you soon." + +Lind walked into the large workshop, where there were a number of people +at work, all round the large, circular, covered caldron, the various +apertures into which sent out fierce rays of light and heat. He walked +about, seemingly at his ease; looking at the apprentices experimenting; +chatting to the workmen. And at last he asked one of these to make for +him a little vase in opalescent glass, that he could take to his +daughter in England; and could he put the letter N on it somewhere? It +was at least some occupation, watching the quick and dexterous handling +under which the little vase grew into form, and had its decoration +cleverly pinched out, and its tiny bits of color added. The letter N was +not very successful; but then Natalie would know that her father had +been thinking of her at Venice. + +This excursion at all events tided over the forenoon; and when the two +companions returned to the wet and disconsolate city, Calabressa was +easily persuaded to join his friend in some sort of mid-day meal. After +that, the long-haired albino-looking person took his leave, having +arranged how Lind was to keep the assignation for that evening. + +The afternoon cleared up somewhat; but Ferdinand Lind seemed to find it +dull enough. He went out for an aimless stroll through some of the +narrow back streets, slowly making his way among the crowd that poured +along these various ways. Then he returned to his hotel, and wrote some +letters. Then he dined early; but still the time did not seem to pass. +He resolved on getting through an hour or so at the theatre. + +A gondola swiftly took him away through the labyrinth of small and +gloomy canals, until at length the wan orange glare shining out into the +night showed him that he was drawing near one of the entrances to the +Fenice. If he had been less preoccupied--less eager to think of nothing +but how to get the slow hours over--he might have noticed the +strangeness of the scene before him: the successive gondolas stealing +silently up through the gloom to the palely lit stone steps; the black +coffins appearing to open; and then figures in white and scarlet +opera-cloaks getting out into the dim light, to ascend into the +brilliant glare of the theatre staircase. He, too, followed, and got +into the place assigned to him. But this spectacular display failed to +interest him. He turned to the bill, to remind him what he had to see. +The blaze of color on the stage--the various combinations of +movement--the resounding music--all seemed part of a dream; and it +annoyed him somehow. He rose and left. + +The intervening time he spent chiefly in a _cafe_ close by the theatre, +where he smoked cigarettes and appeared to read the newspapers. Then he +wandered away to the spot appointed for him to meet a particular +gondola, and arrived there half an hour too soon. But the gondola was +there also. He jumped in and was carried away through the silence of the +night. + +When he arrived at the door, which was opened to him by Calabressa, he +contrived to throw off, by a strong effort of will, any appearance of +anxiety. He entered and sat down, saying only, + +"Well!--what news?" + +Calabressa laughed slightly; and went to a cupboard, and brought forth a +bottle and two small glasses. + +"If you were Zaccatelli," he said, "I would say to you, 'My Lord,' or +'Your Excellency,' or whatever they call those flamingoes with the +bullet heads, 'I would advise you to take a little drop of this very +excellent cognac, for you are about to hear something, and you will need +steady nerves.' Meanwhile, Brother Lind, it is not forbidden to you and +me to have a glass. The Council provide excellent liquor." + +"Thank you, I have no need of it," said Lind, coldly. "What do you mean +about Zaccatelli?" + +"This," said the other, filling himself out a glass of the brandy, and +then proceeding to prepare a cigarette. "If the moral scene of the +country, too long outraged, should determine to punish the Starving +Cardinal, I believe he will get a good year's notice to prepare for his +doom. You perceive? What harm does sudden death to a man? It is nothing. +A moment of pain; and you have all the happiness of sleep, indifference, +forgetfulness. That is no punishment at all: do you perceive?" + +Calabressa continued, airily-- + +"People are proud when they say they do not fear death. The fools! What +has any one to fear in death? To the poor it means no more hunger, no +more imprisonment, no more cold and sickness, no more watching of your +children when they are suffering and you cannot help; to the rich it +means no more triumph of rivals, and envy, and jealousy; no more +sleepless nights and ennui of days; no more gout, and gravel, and the +despair of growing old. Death! It is the great emancipation. And people +talk of the punishment of death!" + +He gave a long whistle of contempt. + +"But," said he, with a smile, "it is a little bit different if you have +to look forward to your death on a certain fixed day. Then you begin to +overvalue things--a single hour of life becomes something." + +He added, in a tone of affected condolence-- + +"Then one wouldn't wish to cause any poor creature to say his last +adieux without some preparation. And in the case of a cardinal, is a +year too little for repentance? Oh, he will put it to excellent use." + +"Very well, very well," said Ferdinand Lind, with an impatient frown +gathering over the shaggy eyebrows. "But I want to know what I have to +do with all this?" + +"Brother Lind," said the other, mildly, "if the Secretary Granaglia, +knowing that I am a friend of yours, is so kind as to give me some hints +of what is under discussion, I listen, but I ask no questions. And +you--I presume you are here not to protest, but to obey." + +"Understand me, Calabressa: it was only to you as a friend that I +spoke," said Lind, gravely. And then he added, "The Council will not +find, at all events, that I am recusant." + +A few minutes afterward the bell rung, and Calabressa jumped to his +feet; while Lind, in spite of himself, started. Presently the _portiere_ +was drawn aside, and the little sallow-complexioned man whom he had seen +on the previous evening entered the room. On this occasion, however, +Calabressa was motioned to withdraw, and immediately did so. Lind and +the stranger were left together. + +"I need scarcely inform you, Brother Lind," said he, in a slow and +matter-of-fact way, "that I am the authorized spokesman of the Council." + +As he said this, for a moment he rested his hand on the table. There was +on the forefinger a large ring, with a red stone in it, engraved. Lind +bowed acquiescence. + +"Calabressa has no doubt informed you of the matter before the Council. +That is now decided; the decree has been signed. Zaccatelli dies within +a year from this day. The motives which have led to this decision may +hereafter be explained to you, even if they have not already occurred to +you; they are motives of policy, as regards ourselves and the progress +of our work, as well as of justice." + +Ferdinand Lind listened, without response. + +"It has further been decided that the blow be struck from England." + +"England!" was the involuntary exclamation. + +"Yes," said the other, calmly. "To give full effect to such a warning it +must be clear to the world that it has nothing to do with any private +revenge or low intrigue. Assassination has been too frequent in Italy of +late. The doubting throughout the world must be convinced that we have +agents everywhere; and that we are no mere local society for the +revenging of private wrongs." + +Lind again bowed assent. + +"Further," said the other, regarding him, "the Council charge you with +the execution of the decree." + +Lind had almost expected this: he did not flinch. + +"After twelve months' grace granted, you will be prepared with a sure +and competent agent who will give effect to the decree of the Council; +failing such a one, the duty will devolve on your own shoulders." + +"On mine!" he was forced to exclaim. "Surely--" + +"Do you forget," said the other, calmly, "that sixteen years ago your +life was forfeited, and given back to you by the Council?" + +"So I understood," said Lind. "But it was not my life that was given me +then!--only the lease of it till the Council should claim it again. +However!" + +He drew himself up, and the powerful face was full of decision. + +"It is well," said he. "I do not complain. If I exact obedience from +others, I, too, obey. The Council shall be served." + +"Further instructions shall be given you. Meanwhile, the Council once +more thank you for your attendance. Farewell, brother!" + +"Farewell, brother!" + +When he had gone, and the bell again rung, Calabressa reappeared. Lind +was too proud a man to betray any concern. + +"It is as you told me, Calabressa," said he, carelessly, as his friend +proceeded to light him down the narrow staircase. "And I am charged with +the execution of their vengeance. Well; I wish I had been present at +their deliberations, that is all. This deed may answer so far as the +continental countries are concerned; but, so far as England is +concerned, it will undo the work of years." + +"What!--England!" exclaimed Calabressa, lightly--"where they blow up a +man's house with gunpowder, or dash vitriol in his face, if he works for +a shilling a day less wages?--where they shoot landlords from behind +hedges if the rent is raised?--where they murder policemen in the open +street, to release political prisoners? No, no, friend Lind; I cannot +believe that." + +"However, that is not my business, Calabressa. The Council shall be +obeyed. I am glad to know you are again at liberty; when you come to +England you will see how your little friend Natalie has grown." + +"Give a kiss from me to the little Natalushka," said he, cheerfully; and +then the two parted. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +JACTA EST ALEA. + + +"Natalie," said her father, entering the breakfast-room, "I have news +for you to-day. This evening Mr. Brand is to be initiated." + +The beautiful, calm face betrayed no surprise. + +"That is always the way," she answered, almost absently. "One after the +other they go in; and I only am left out, alone." + +"What," he said, patting her shoulder as he passed, "are you still +dreaming of reviving the _Giardiniere_? Well, it was a pretty idea to +call each sister in the lodge by the name of a flower. But nowadays, and +in England especially, if women intermeddled in such things, do you know +what they would be called? _Petroleuses!_" + +"Names do not hurt," said the girl, proudly. + +"No, no. Rest content, Natalie. You are initiated far enough. You know +all that needs to be known; and you can work with us, and associate with +us like the rest. But about Brand; are you not pleased?" + +"I am indeed pleased, papa." + +"And I am more than pleased," said Lind, thoughtfully. "He will be the +most important accession we have had for many a day. Ah, you women have +sharp eyes; but there are some things you cannot see--there are some men +whose character you cannot read." + +Natalie glanced up quickly; and her father noticed that surprised look. + +"Well," said he, with a smile, "what now is your opinion of Mr. Brand?" + +Instantly the soft eyes were cast down again, and a faint tinge of color +appeared in her face. + +"Oh, my opinion, papa?" said she, as if to gain time to choose her +words. "Well, I should call him manly, straightforward--and--and very +kind--and--and very English--" + +"I understand you perfectly, Natalie," her father said, with a laugh. +"You and Lord Evelyn are quite in accord. Yes, and you are both +thoroughly mistaken. You mean, by his being so English, that he is +cold, critical, unsympathetic: is it not so? You resent his being +cautious about joining us. You think he will be but a lukewarm +associate--suspecting everything--fearful about going too far--a +half-and-half ally. My dear Natalie, that is because neither Lord +Evelyn nor you know anything at all about that man." + +The faint color in the girl's cheeks had deepened; and she remained +silent, with her face downcast. + +"The pliable ones," her father continued, "the people who are moved by +fine talking, who are full of amiable sentiments, and who take to work +like ours as an additional sentiment--you may initiate a thousand of +them, and not gain an atom of strength. It is a hard head that I want, +and a strong will; a man determined to have no illusions at the outset; +a man who, once pledged, will not despair or give up in the face of +failure, difficulty, or disappointment, or anything else. Brand is such +a man. If I were to be disabled to-morrow, I would rather leave my work +in his hands than in the hands of any man I have seen in this country." + +Was it to hide the deepening color in her face that the girl went round +to her father, and stood rather behind him, and put her hand on his +shoulder, and stooped down to his ear. + +"Papa," said she, "I--I hope you don't think I have been saying anything +against Mr. Brand. Oh no. How could I do that--when he has been so kind +to us--and--and just now especially, when he is about to become one of +us? You must forget what I said about his being English, papa; after +all, it is not for us to say that being English is anything else than +being kind, and generous, and hospitable. And I am exceedingly pleased +that you have got another associate, and that we have got another good +friend, in England." + +"Alors, as Calabressa would say, you can show that you are pleased, +Natalie," her father said, lightly, "by going and writing a pretty +little note, asking your new friend, Mr. Brand, to dine with us +to-night, after the initiation is over, and I will ask Evelyn, if I see +him." + +But this proposal in no wise seemed to lessen the girl's embarrassment. +She still clung about the back of her father's chair. + +"I would rather not do that, papa," said she, after a second. + +"Why? why?" said he. + +"Would it not look less formal for you to ask him, papa? You see, it is +once or twice that we have asked him to dine with us without giving him +proper notice--" + +"Oh, that is nothing--nothing at all. A bachelor with an evening +disengaged is glad enough to fill it up anyhow. Well, if you would +rather not write, Natalie, I will ask him myself." + +"Thank you, papa," said she, apparently much relieved, and therewith she +went back to her seat, and her father turned to his newspaper. + +The day passed, and the evening came. As six o'clock was striking, +George Brand presented himself at the little door in Lisle street, Soho, +and was admitted. Lind had already assured him that, as far as England +was concerned, no idle mummeries were associated with the ceremony of +initiation; to which Brand had calmly replied, that if mummeries were +considered necessary, he was as ready as any one to do his part of the +business. Only he added that he thought the unknown powers had acted +wisely--so far as England was concerned--in discarding such things. + +When he entered the room, his first glance round was reassuring. There +were six persons present besides Lind, and they did not at all suggest +the typical Leicester Square foreigner. On the contrary, he guessed that +four out of the six were either English or Irish; and two of them he +recognized, though they were unknown to him personally. The one was a +Home Rule M.P., ferocious enough in the House of Commons, but celebrated +as the most brilliant, and amiable, and fascinating of diners-out; the +other was an Oxford don, of large fortune and wildly Radical views, who +wrote a good deal in the papers. There was a murmur of conversation +going on, which ceased as Lind briefly introduced the new-comer. + +The ceremony, if ceremony it could be called, was simple enough. The +candidate for admission was required to sign a printed document, +solemnly pledging himself to devote his life, and the labor of his hands +and brain, to the work of the association; to implicitly obey any +command reaching him from the Council, or communicated through an +officer of the first degree; and to preserve inviolable secrecy. Brand +read this paper through twice, and signed it. It was then signed by the +seven witnesses. He was further required to inscribe his signature in a +large volume, which contained a list of members of a particular section. +That done, the six strangers present shook him by the hand, and left. + +He looked round surprised. Had he been dreaming during these brief five +minutes? Yet he could hear the noise of their going down-stairs. + +"Well," said Mr. Lind, with a smile, "it is not a very terrible +ceremony, is it? Did you expect prostrations at the altar; and blindfold +gropings, and the blessing of the dagger? When you come to know a little +more of our organization, of its extent and its power, you will +understand how we can afford to dispense with all those theatrical ways +of frightening people into obedience and secrecy." + +"I expected to find Evelyn here," said George Brand. He was in truth, +just a little bit bewildered as yet. He had been assured that there +would be no foolish mummeries or fantastic rites of initiation; but all +the same he had been much occupied with this step he was about to take; +he had been thinking of it much; he had been looking forward to +something unknown; and he had been nerving himself to encounter whatever +might come before him. But that five minutes of silence; the quick +reading and signing of a paper; the sudden dispersion of the small +assemblage: he could scarcely believe it was all real. + +"No," Lind said, "Lord Evelyn is not yet an officer. He is only a +Companion in the third degree, like yourself." + +"A what?" + +"A Companion in the third degree. Surely you read the document that you +signed?" + +It was still lying on the table before him. He took it up; yes, he +certainly was so designated there. Yet he could not remember seeing the +phrase, though he had, before signing, read every word twice over. + +"And now, Mr. Brand," his companion said, seating himself at the other +side of the table, "when you have got over your surprise that there +should be no ceremony, it will become my duty to give you some +idea--some rough idea--of the mechanism and aims of our association, and +to show you in what measure we are allied with other societies. The +details you will become acquainted with by-and-by; that will be a labor +of time. And you know, of course, or you have guessed, that there are no +mysteries to be revealed to you, no profound religious truths to be +communicated, no dogmas to be accepted. I am afraid we are very +degenerate descendants of the Mystics, and the Illuminati, and all the +rest of them; we have become prosaic; our wants are sadly material. And +yet we have our dreams and aspirations, too; and the virtues that we +exact--obedience, temperance, faith, self-sacrifice--are not ignoble. +Meanwhile, to begin. I think you may prepare yourself to be astonished." + +But astonishment was no word for the emotion experienced by the newly +admitted member when Ferdinand Lind proceeded to give him, with careful +facts and sober computations, some rough outline of the extent and power +of this intricate and far-reaching organization. Hitherto the word +"International" had with him been associated with the ridiculous fiasco +at Geneva; but here was something, not calling itself international, +which aimed at nothing less than knitting together the multitudes of the +nations, not only in Europe, but in the English and French and German +speaking territories beyond the seas, in a solemn league--a league for +self-protection and mutual understanding, for the preservation of +international peace, the spread of knowledge, the outbraving of tyranny, +the defiance of religious intolerance, the relief of the oppressed, the +help of the poor, and the sick, and the weak. This was no cutthroat +conspiracy or wild scheme of confiscation and plunder; but a design for +the establishment of wide and beneficent law--a law which should +protect, not the ambition of kings, not the pride of armies, not the +revenues of priests, but the rights and the liberties of those who were +"darkening in labor and pain." And this message, that could go forth +alike to the Camorristi and the Nihilists; to the Free Masons and the +Good Templars; to the Trades-unionists and the Knights of Labor--to all +those masses of men moved by the spirit of co-operation--"See, brothers, +what we have to show you. Some of you are aiming at chaos and perdition; +others putting wages as their god and sovereign; others content with a +vague philanthropy almost barren of results. This is all the help we +want of you--to pledge yourselves to associate with us, to accept our +modest programme of actual needs, to give help to those who are in want +or trouble, to promise that you will stand by us in the time to come. +And when the time does come; when we are combined; when knowledge is +abroad, and mutual trust, who will say 'yes' if the voice of the people +in every nation murmurs 'No?' What priest will reimpose the Inquisition +on us; what king drive us to shed blood that his robes may have the +richer dye; what policeman in high places endeavor to stamp out our +God-given right of free speech? It is so little for you to grant; it is +so much for you, and for us, to gain!" + +These were not the words he uttered--for Lind spoke English slowly and +carefully--but they were the spirit of his words. And as he went on +describing to this new member what had already been done, what was being +done, and the great possibilities of the future, Brand began to wonder +whether all this gigantic scheme, with its simple, bold, and practical +outlines, were the work of this one man. He ventured by-and-by to hint +at some such question. + +"Mine?" Lind said, frankly, "Ah no! not the inspiration of it. I am only +the mechanic putting brick and brick together; the design is not mine, +nor that of any one man. It is an aggregate project--a speculation +occupying many a long hour of imprisonment--a scheme to be handed from +one to the other, with alterations and suggestions." + +"But even your share of it--how can one man control so much?" Brand +said; for he easily perceived what a mass of detail had to pass through +this man's hands. + +"I will tell you," said the other. "Because every stone added to the +building is placed there for good. There is no looking back. There are +no pacifications of revolt. No questions; but absolute obedience. You +see, we exact so little: why should any one rebel? However, you will +learn more and more as you go on; and soon your work will be appointed +you. Meanwhile, I thank you, brother." + +Lind rose and shook his hand. + +"Now," said he, "that is enough of business. It occurred to me this +morning that, if you had nothing else to do this evening, you might come +and dine with us, and give Natalie the chance of meeting you in your new +character." + +"I shall be most pleased," said Brand; and his face flushed. + +"I telegraphed to Evelyn. If he is in town, perhaps he will join us. +Shall we walk home?" + +"If you like." + +So they went out together into the glare and clamor of the streets. +George Brand's heart was very full with various emotions; but, not to +lose altogether his English character, he preserved a somewhat critical +tone as he talked. + +"Well, Mr. Lind," he said, "so far as I can see and hear, your scheme +has been framed not only with great ability, but also with a studied +moderation and wisdom. The only point I would urge is this--that, in +England, as little as possible should be said about kings and priests. A +great deal of what you said would scarcely be understood here. You see, +in England it is not the Crown nowadays which instigate or insists on +war; it is Parliament and the people. Dynastic ambitions do not trouble +us. There is no reason whatever why we here should hate kings when they +are harmless." + +"You are right; the case is different," Lind admitted. "But that makes +adhesion to our programme all the easier." + +"I was only speaking of the police of mentioning things which might +alarm timid people. Then as for the priests; it may be the interest of +the priests in Ireland to keep the peasantry ignorant; but it is +certainly not so in England. The Church of England fosters education--" + +"Are not your clergymen the bitterest enemies of the School Board +schools?" + +"Well, they may dislike seeing education dissociated from religion--that +is natural, considering what they believe; but they are not necessary +enemies of education. Perhaps I am a very young member to think of +making such a suggestion. But the truth is, that when an ordinary +Englishman hears anything said against kings and priests, he merely +thinks of kings and priests as he knows them--and as being mostly +harmless creatures nowadays--and concludes that you are a Communist +wanting to overturn society altogether." + +"Precisely so. I told Natalie this morning that if she were to be +allowed to join our association her English friends would imagine her to +be _petroleuse_." + +"Miss Lind is not in the association?" Brand said, quickly. + +"As yet no women have been admitted. It is a difficulty; for in some +societies with which we are partly in alliance women are members. Ah, +such noble creatures many of them are, too! However, the question may +come forward by-and-by. In the mean time, Natalie, without being made +aware of what we are actually doing--that, of course, is +forbidden--knows something of what our work must be, and is warm in her +sympathy. She is a good help, too: she is the quickest translator we +have got." + +"Do you think," Brand said, somewhat timidly, but with a frown on his +face, "that it is fair to put such tedious labor on the shoulders of a +young girl? Surely there are enough of men to do the work?" + +"You shall propose that to her yourself," Lind said laughing. + +Well, they arrived at the house in Curzon Street, and, when they went +up-stairs to the drawing-room, they found Lord Evelyn there. Natalie +Lind came forward--with less than usual of her graciously self-possessed +manner--and shook hands with him briefly, and said, with averted look, + +"I am glad to see you, Mr. Brand." + +Now, as her eyes were cast down, it was impossible that she could have +noticed the quick expression of disappointment that crossed his face. +Was it that she herself was instantly conscious of the coldness of her +greeting, and anxious to atone for that? Was it that she plucked up +heart of grace? At all events, she suddenly offered him both her hands +with a frank courage; she looked him in the face with the soft, tender, +serious eyes; and then, before she turned away, the low voice said, + +"Brother, I welcome you!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +SOUTHWARD. + + +After a late, cold, and gloomy spring, a glimpse of early summer shone +over the land; and after a long period of anxious and oftentimes +irritating and disappointing travail--in wet and dismal towns, in +comfortless inns, with associates not always to his liking--George Brand +was hurrying to the South. Ah, the thought of it, as the train whirled +along on this sunlit morning! After the darkness, the light; after +fighting, peace; after the task-work, a smile of reward! No more than +that was his hope; but it was a hope that kept his heart afire and glad +on many a lonely night. + +At length his companion, who had slept steadily on ever since they had +entered the train at Carlisle, at about one in the morning, awoke, +rubbed his eyes, and glanced at the window. + +"We are going to have a fine day at last, Humphreys," said Brand. + +"They have been having better weather in the South, sir." + +The man looked like a well-dressed mechanic. He had an intelligent face, +keen and hard. He spoke with the Newcastle burr. + +"I wish you would not call me 'sir,'" Brand said, impatiently. + +"It comes natural, somehow, sir," said the other, with great simplicity. +"There is not a man in any part of the country, but would say 'sir' to +one of the Brands of Darlington. When Mr. Lind telegraphed to me you +were coming down, I telegraphed back, 'Is he one of the Brands of +Darlington?' and when I got his answer I said to myself, 'Here is the +man to go to the Political Committee of the Trades-union Congress: they +won't fight shy of him.'" + +"Well, we have no great cause to grumble at what has been done in that +direction; but that infernal _Internationale_ is doing a deal of +mischief. There is not a trades-unionist in the country who does not +know what is going on in France. A handful of irresponsible madmen +trying to tack themselves on to the workmen's association--well, surely +the men will have more sense than to listen. The _congres ouvrier_ to +change its name, and to become the _congres revolutionnaire_! When I +first went to Jackson, Molyneux, and the others, I found they had a sort +of suspicion that we wanted to make Communists of them and tear society +to pieces." + +"You have done more in a couple of months, sir, than we all have done in +the last ten years," his companion said. + +"That is impossible. Look at--" + +He named some names, certain of them well known enough. + +The other shook his head. + +"Where we have been they don't believe in London professors, and +speech-makers, and chaps like that. They know that the North is the +backbone and the brain of England, and in the North they want to be +spoken to by a North-countryman." + +"I am a Buckinghamshire man." + +"That may be where you live, sir: but you are one of the Brands of +Darlington," said the other, doggedly. + +By-and-by they entered the huge, resounding station. + +"What are you going to do to-night, Humphreys? Come and have some dinner +with me, and we will look in afterward at the Century." + +Humphreys looked embarrassed for a moment. + +"I was thinking of going to the Coger's Hall, sir," said he, hitting +upon an excuse. "I have heard some good speaking there." + +"Mostly bunkum, isn't it?" + +"No, sir." + +"All right. Then I shall see you to-morrow morning in Lisle Street. +Good-bye." + +He jumped into a hansom, and was presently rattling away through the +busy streets. How sweet and fresh was the air, even here in the midst of +the misty and golden city! The early summer was abroad; there was a +flush of green on the trees in the squares. When he got down to the +Embankment, he was quite surprised by the beauty of the gardens; there +were not many gardens in the towns he had chiefly been living in. + +He dashed up the narrow wooden stairs. + +"Look alive now, Waters: get my bath ready." + +"It is ready, sir." + +"And breakfast!" + +"Whenever you please, sir." + +He took off his dust-smothered travelling-coat, and was about to fling +it on the couch, when he saw lying there two pieces of some brilliant +stuff that were strange to him. + +"What are these things?" + +"They were left, sir, by Mr. ----, of Bond Street, on approval. He will +call this afternoon." + +"Tell him to go to the devil!" said Brand, briefly, as he walked off +into his bedroom. + +Presently he came back. + +"Stay a bit," said he; and he took up the two long strips of +silk-embroidered stuff--Florentine work, probably, of about the end of +the sixteenth century. The ground was a delicate yellowish-gray, with an +initial letter worked in various colors over it. Mr. ----, of Bond +Street, knew that Brand had often amused his idle hours abroad in +picking up things like this, chiefly as presents to lady friends, and +no doubt thought they would be welcome enough, even for bachelors' +rooms. + +"Tell him I will take them." + +"But the price, sir?" + +"Ask him his price; beat him down; and keep the difference." + +After bath and breakfast there was an enormous pile of correspondence +awaiting him; for not a single letter referring to his own affairs had +been forwarded to him for over two months. He had thrown his entire time +and care into his work in the North. And now that these arrears had to +be cleared off, he attacked the business with an obvious impatience. +Formerly he had been used to dawdle over his letters, getting through a +good portion of the forenoon with them and conversations with Waters +about Buckinghamshire news. Now, even with that omniscient factotum by +his side, his progress was slow, simply because he was hurried. He made +dives here and there, without system, without settlement. At last, +looking at his watch, he jumped up; it was half-past eleven. + +"Some other time, Waters--some other time; the man must wait," he said +to the astonished but patient person beside him. "If Lord Evelyn calls, +tell him I shall look in at the Century to-night." + +"Yes, sir." + +Some half-hour thereafter he was standing in Park Lane, his heart +beating somewhat quickly, his eyes fixed eagerly on two figures that +were crossing the thoroughfare lower down to one of the gates leading +into Hyde Park. These were Natalie Lind and the little Anneli. He had +known that he would see her thus; he had imagined the scene a thousand +times; he had pictured to himself every detail--the trees, the tall +railings, the spring flowers in the plots, and the little rosy-cheeked +German girl walking by her mistress's side; and yet, now that this +familiar thing had come true, he trembled to behold it; he breathed +quickly; he could not go forward to her and hold out his hand. Slowly, +for they were walking slowly, he went along to the gate and entered +after them; cautiously, lest she should turn suddenly and confront him +with her eyes; drawn, and yet fearing to follow. She was talking with +some animation to her companion; though even in this profound silence he +could not hear the sound of her voice. But he could see the beautiful +oval of her face! and sometimes, when she turned with a laugh to the +little Anneli, he caught a glimpse of the black eyes and eyelashes, the +smiling lips and brilliant teeth; and once or twice she put out the +palm of her right hand with a little gesture which, despite her English +dress, would have told a stranger that she was of foreign ways. But the +look of welcome, the smile of reward that he had been looking forward +to? + +Well, Mr. Lind was in America; and during his absence his daughter saw +but few visitors. There was no particular reason why, supposing that +George Brand met Natalie in the street, he should not go up and shake +hands with her; and many a time, in these mental pictures of his of her +morning walk with the rosy-cheeked Anneli, he imagined himself +confronting her under the shadow of the trees, and perhaps walking some +way with her, to listen once more to the clear, low vibrations of her +musical voice. But no sooner had he seen her come into Park Lane--the +vision became real--than he felt he could not go up and speak to her. If +he had met her by accident, perhaps he might; but to watch her, to +entrap her, to break in on her wished-for isolation under false +pretences--all that he suddenly felt to be impossible. He could follow +her with his heart; but the sound of her voice, the touch of her hand, +the smile of her calm, beautiful, dark eyes, were as remote for him as +if she, too, were beyond the broad Atlantic. + +He was not much given to introspection and analysis; daring the past two +months more especially he had been far too busy to be perpetually asking +"Why? why?"--the vice of indolence. It was enough that, in the cold and +the wet, there was a fire in his heart that kept him glad with thinking +of the fair days to come; and that, in the foggy afternoons or the +lonely nights when he was alone, and perhaps despondent or impatient +over the stupidity or the contumacy he had had to encounter, there came +to him the soft murmur of a voice from far away--proud, sad, and yet +full of consolation and hope: + + "--But ye that might be clothed with all things pleasant, + Ye are foolish that put off the fair soft present, + That clothe yourself with the cold future air; + When mother and father, and tender sister and brother, + And the old live love that was shall be as ye, + Dust and no fruit of loving life shall be. + --She shall be yet who is more than all these were, + Than sister or wife or father unto us, or mother." + +He could hear her voice: he could see the beautiful face grow pale with +its proud fervor; he could feel the soft touch of her hand when she +came forward and said, "Brother, I welcome you!" + +And now that she was there before him, the gladness in his heart at the +mere sight of her was troubled with a trembling fear and pain. She was +but a stone's-throw in front of him; but she seemed far away. The world +was young around her; and she belonged to the time of youth and of +hope; life, that he had been ready to give up as a useless and aimless +thing, was only opening out before her, full of a thousand beauties, and +wonders, and possibilities. If only he could have taken her hand, and +looked into her eyes, and claimed that smile of welcome, he would have +been nearer to her. Surely, in one thing at least they were in sympathy. +There was a bond between them. If the past had divided them, the future +would bring them more together. Did not the Pilgrims go by in bands, +until death struck down its victims here and there? + +Natalie knew nothing of all this vague longing, and doubt, and pain in +the breast of one who was so near her. She was in a gay mood. The +morning was beautiful; the soft wind after the rain brought whiffs of +scent from the distant rose-red hawthorn. Though she was here under +shadow of the trees, the sun beyond shone on the fresh and moist grass; +and at the end of the glades there were glimpses of brilliant color in +the foliage--the glow of the laburnum, the lilac blaze of the +rhododendron bushes. And how still the place was! Far off there was a +dull roar of carriages in Piccadilly; but here there was nothing but the +bleating of the sheep, the chirp of the young birds, the stir of the +wind among the elms. Sometimes he could now catch the sound of her +voice. + +She was in a gay humor. When she got to the Serpentine--the north bank +was her favorite promenade; she could see on the other side, just below +the line of leaves, the people passing and repassing on horseback; but +she was not of them--she found a number of urchins wading. They had no +boat; but they had the bung of a barrel, which served, and that they +were pushing through the water with twigs and sticks; their shapeless +boots they had left on the bank. Now, as it seemed to Brand, who was +watching from a distance, she planned a scheme. Anneli was seen to go +ahead of the boys, and speak to them. Their attention being thus +distracted, the young mistress stepped rapidly down to the tattered +boots, and dropped something in each. Then she withdrew, and was +rejoined by her maid; they walked away without waiting to see the result +of their machinations. But George Brand, following by-and-by, heard one +of the urchins call out with wonder that he had found a penny in his +shoe; and this extraordinary piece of news brought back his comrades, +who rather mechanically began to examine their footgear too. And then +the amazement!--and the looks around!--and the examination of the pence, +lest that treasure should vanish away! Brand went up to them. + +"Look hear you young stupids; don't you see that tall lady away along +there by the boat-house--why don't you go and thank her?" + +But they were either too shy or too incredulous; so he left them. He did +not forget the incident. + +Perhaps it was that the heavens had grown dark in the southwest, +threatening a shower; but, at all events, Natalie soon returned and set +out on her homeward way, giving this unknown spy some trouble to escape +observation. But when she had passed, he again followed, now with even +greater unrest and pain at his heart. For would not she soon disappear, +and the outer world grow empty, and the dull hours have to be faced? He +had come to London with such hope and gladness; now the very sunlight +was to be taken out of his life by the shutting of a door in Curzon +Street. + +Fate, however, was kinder to him than he had dared to hope. As Natalie +was returning home, he ventured to draw a little nearer to her, but +still with the greatest caution, for he would have been overcome with +shame if she had detected him dogging her footsteps in this aimless, if +innocent manner. And now that she had got close to her own door, he had +drawn nearer still--on the other side of the street; he so longed to +catch one more glimpse of the dark eyes smiling, and the mobile, proud +mouth. But just as the door was being opened from within, a man who had +evidently been watching his chance thrust himself before the two women, +barring their way, and proceeded to address Natalie in a vehement, +gesticulating fashion, with much clinching of his fists and throwing out +of his arms. Anneli had shrunk back a step, for the man was uncouth and +unkempt; but the young mistress stood erect and firm, confronting the +beggar, or madman, or whoever he was, without the slightest sign of +fear. + +This was enough for George Brand. He was not thrusting himself unfairly +on her seclusion if he interposed to protect her from menace. Instantly +he crossed the road. + +"Who are you? What do you want?" This was what he said; but what he did +was to drive the man back a couple of yards. + +A hand was laid on his arm quickly. + +"He is in trouble," Natalie said, calmly. "He wants to see papa; he has +come a long way; he does not understand that papa is in America. If you +could only convince him--But you do not talk Russian." + +"I can talk English," said Brand, regarding the maniac-looking person +before him with angry brows. "Will you go indoors, Miss Lind, and leave +him to me. I will talk an English to him that he will understand." + +"Is that the way you answer an appeal for help?" said she, with gentle +reproof. "The man is in trouble. If I persuade him to go with you, will +you take him to papa's chambers? Either Beratinsky or Heinrich Reitzei +will be there." + +"Reitzei is there." + +"He will hear what this man has to say. Will you be so kind?" + +"I will do anything to rid you of this fellow, who looks more like a +madman than a beggar." + +She stepped forward and spoke to the man again--her voice sounded gentle +and persuasive to Brand, in this tongue which he could not understand. +When she had finished, the uncouth person in the tattered garments +dropped on both knees on the pavement, and took her hand in his, and +kissed it in passionate gratitude. Then he rose, and stood with his cap +in his hand. + +"He will go with you. I am so sorry to trouble you, Mr. Brand; and I +have not even said, 'How do you do?'" + +To hear this beautiful voice after so long a silence--to find those +calm, dark, friendly eyes regarding him--bewildered him, or gave him +courage, he knew not which. He said to her, with a quick flush on his +forehead, + +"May I come back to tell you how I succeed?" + +She only hesitated for a second. + +"If you have time. If you care to take the trouble." + +He carried away with him the look of her face--that filled his heart +with sunlight. In the hansom, into which he bundled his unkempt +companion, if only he had known enough Russian, he would have expressed +gratitude to him. Beggar or maniac, or whatever he was, had he not been +the means of procuring for George Brand that long-coveted, +long-dreamed-of smile of welcome? + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +A RUSSIAN EPISODE. + + +"Is that the way you answer an appeal for help?" With that gentle +protest still lingering in his ear, he was not inclined to be hard on +this unfortunate wretch who was in the cab with him; and yet at the same +time he was resolved to prevent any repetition of the scene he had just +witnessed. At the last he discovered that the man had picked up in his +wanderings a little German. His own German was not first-rate; it was +fluent, forcible, and accurate enough, so far as hotels and +railway-stations were concerned; elsewhere it had a tendency to halt, +blunder, and double back on itself. But, at all events, he managed to +convey to his companion the distinct intimation that any further +troubling of that young lady would only procure for him broken head. + +The dull, stupid, savage-looking face betrayed no sign of intelligence. +He repeated the warning again and again; and at last, at the phrase +"that young lady," the dazed small eyes lit up somewhat, and the man +clasped his hands. + +"Ein Engel!" he said, apparently to himself. "Ein Engel--ein Engel! Ach +Gott--wie schon--wie gemuthlich!" + +"Yes, yes, yes," Brand said, "that is all very well; but one is not +permitted to annoy angels--to trouble them in the street. Do you +understand that that means punishment--one must be punished--if one +returns to the house of that young lady? Do you understand?" + +The man regarded him with the small, deep-set eyes again sunk into +apathy. + +"Ihr Diener, Herr," said he, submissively. + +"You understand you are not to go back to the house of the young lady?" + +"Ihr Diener, Herr." + +There was nothing to be got out of him, or into him; so Brand waited +until he should get help of Heinrich Reitzei, Lind's _locum tenens_. + +Reitzei was in the chambers--at Lind's table, in fact. He was a man of +about twenty-eight or thirty, slim and dark, with a perfectly pallid +face, a small black mustache carefully waxed, and an affectedly +courteous smile. He wore a _pince-nez_; was fond of slang, to show his +familiarity with English; and aimed at an English manner, too. He seemed +bored. He regarded this man whom Brand introduced to him without +surprise, with indifference. + +"Hear what this fellow has to say," Brand said, "will you? and give him +distinctly to understand that if he tries again to see Miss Lind, I will +break his head for him. What idiot could have given him Lind's private +address?" + +The man was standing near the door, stolid apparently, but with his +small eyes keenly watching. Reitzei said a word or two to him. Instantly +he went--he almost sprung--forward; and this movement was so unexpected +that the equanimity of the pallid young man received a visible shock, +and he hastily drew out a drawer a few inches. Brand caught sight of the +handle of a revolver. + +But the man was only eager to tell his story, and presently Reitzei had +resumed his air of indifference. As he proceeded to translate for +Brand's benefit, in interjectional phrases, what this man with the +trembling hands and the burning eyes was saying, it was strange to mark +the contrast between the two men. + +"His name Kirski," the younger man was saying, as he eyed, with a cool +and critical air, the wild look in the other's face. "A carver in wood, +but cannot work now, for his hands tremble, through hunger and +fatigue--through drink, I should say--native of a small village in +Kiev--had his share of the Communal land--but got permission from the +Commune to spend part of the year in Kiev itself--sent back all his +taxes duly, and money too, because--oh, this is it?--daughter of village +Elder--young, beautiful, of course--left an orphan, with three +brothers--and their share of the land too much for them. Ah, this is the +story, then, my friend? Married, too--young, beautiful, good--yes, yes, +we know all that--" + +There were tears running down the face of the other man. But these he +shook away; and a wilder light than ever came into his eyes. + +"He goes to Kiev as usual, foolish fellow; now I see what all the row is +about. When he returns, three months after, he goes to his house. Empty. +The neighbors will not speak. At last one says something about Pavel +Michaieloff, the great proprietor, whose house and farm are some versts +away--my good fellow, you have got the palsy, or is it drink?--he goes +and seeks out the house of Pavel--yes, yes, the story is not new--Pavel +is at the open window, smoking--he goes up to the window--there is a +woman inside--when she sees him she utters a loud scream, and rushes +for protection to the man Michaieloff--then all the fat is in the fire +naturally--" + +The Russian choked and gasped; drops of perspiration stood on his +forehead; he looked wildly around. + +"Water?" said Reitzei. "Poor devil, you need some water to cool down +your excitement. You are making as much fuss as if that kind of thing +had never happened in the world before." + +But he rose and got him some water, which the man drained eagerly; then +he continued his story with the same fierce and angry vehemence. + +"Well, yes, he had something to complain of, certainly," Reitzei said, +translating all that incoherent passion into cool little phrases. "Not a +fair fight. Pavel summons his men from the court-yard--men with +whips--dogs, too--he is lashed and driven along the roads, and the dogs +tear at him! Oh yes, my good friend, you have been badly used; but you +have come a long way to tell your story. I must ask him how the mischief +he got here at all." + +But here Reitzei paused and stared. Something the man said--in an eager, +low voice, with his sunken small eyes all afire--startled him out of his +critical air. + +"Oh, that is it, is it?" he said, eyeing him. "He will do any thing for +us--he will commit a murder--ten murders--if only we give him money, a +knife, and help to kill the man Michaieloff. Well, he is a lively sort +of person to let loose on society." + +"The man is clearly mad," Brand said. + +"The man was madder who sent him to us," Reitzei answered. "I should not +like to be in his shoes if Lind hears that this maniac was allowed to +see his daughter." + +The wretched creature standing there glanced eagerly from one to the +other, with the eyes of a wild animal, seeking to gather something from +their looks; then he went forward to the table, and stooped down and +spoke to Reitzei still further, in the same low, fierce voice, his whole +frame meanwhile shaking with his excitement. Reitzei said something to +him in reply, and motioned him back. He retired a step or two, and then +kept watching the faces of the two men. + +"What are you going to do with him?" Brand said. + +Reitzei shrugged his shoulders. + +"I know what I should like to do with him if I dared," he said, with a +graceful smile. "There is a friend of mine not a hundred miles away from +that very Kiev who wants a little admonition. Her name is Petrovna, she +is the jail-matron of a female penitentiary; she is just a little too +fierce at times. Murderers, thieves, prostitutes: oh yes, she can be +civil enough to them; but let a political prisoner come near her--one of +her own sex, mind--and she becomes a devil, a tigress, a vampire. Ah, +Madame Petrovna and I may have a little reckoning some day. I have asked +Lind again and again to petition for a decree against her; but no, he +will not move; he is becoming Anglicized, effeminate." + +"A decree?" Brand said. + +The other smiled, with an affectation of calm superiority. + +"You will learn by-and-by. Meanwhile, if I dared, what I should like to +do would be to give our friend here plenty of money, and not one but two +knives, saying to him. 'My good friend, here is one knife for +Michaieloff, if you like; but first of all here is this knife for that +angel in disguise, Madame Petrovna, of the Female Penitentiary in +Novolevsk. Strike sure and hard!'" + +For one instant his affectation forsook him, and there was a gleam in +his eyes. This was but a momentary relapse from his professed +indifference. + +"Well, Mr. Brand, I suppose I must take over this madman from you. You +may tell Miss Lind she need not be frightened." + +"I should not think Miss Lind was in the habit of being frightened," +said Brand, coldly. + +"Ah, no; doubtless not. Well, I shall see that this fellow does not +trouble her again. What fine tidings we had of your work in the North! +You have been a power; you have moved mountains." + +"I have moved John Molyneux," said Brand, with a laugh, "and in these +days that is a more difficult business." + +"Fine news from Spain, too," said Reitzei, glancing at some letters. +"From Valladolid, Barcelona, Ferrol, Saragossa--all the same story: +coalition, coalition. Salmero will be in London next week." + +"But you have not told me what you are going to do with this man yet; +you must stow the combustible piece of goods somewhere. Poor devil, his +sufferings have made a pitiable object of him." + +"My dear friend," said Reitzei, "You don't suppose that a Russian +peasant would feel so deeply a beating with whips, or the worrying of +dogs, or even the loss of his wife? Of course, all together, it was +something of a hard grind. He must have been constitutionally insane, +and that woke the whole thing up." + +"Then he should be confined. He is a lunatic at large." + +"I don't think he would harm anybody," Reitzei said, regarding the man +as if he were a strange animal. "I would not shut up a dog in a lunatic +asylum; I would rather put a bullet through his head. And this +fellow--if we could humbug him a little, and get him to his work +again--I know a man in Wardour Street who would do that for me--and see +what effect the amassing of a little English money might have on him. +Better a miser than a wild beast. And he seems a submissive sort of +creature. Leave him to me, Mr. Brand." + +Brand began to think a little better of Reitzei, whom hitherto he had +rather disliked. He handed him five pounds, to get some clothes and +tools for the man, who, when he was told of this generosity, turned to +Brand and said something to him in Russian which set Reitzei laughing. + +"What is it he says?" + +"He said, 'Little Father, you are worthy to become the husband of the +angel: may the day come soon!' I suppose the angel is Miss Lind; she +must have been very kind to the man." + +"She only spoke to him; but her voice can be kind," said Brand, rather +absently, and then he left. + +Away went the hansom back to Curzon Street. He said to himself that it +was not for nothing that this unfortunate wretch Kirski had wandered all +the way from the Dnieper to the Thames. He would look after this man. He +would do something for him. Five pounds only? And he had been the means +of securing this interview, if only for three of four minutes; after the +long period of labor and hope and waiting he might have gone without a +word at all but for this over-troubled poor devil. + +And now--now he might even see her alone for a couple of minutes in the +hushed little drawing-room; and she might say if she had heard about +what had been done in the North, and about his eagerness to return to +the work. One look of thanks; that was enough. Sometimes, by himself up +there in the solitary inns, the old fit had come over him; and he had +laughed at himself, and wondered at this new fire of occupation and +interest that was blazing through his life, and asked himself, as of +old, to what end--to what end? But when he heard Natalie Lind's voice, +there was a quick good-bye to all questioning. One look at the calm, +earnest eyes, and he drank deep of faith, courage, devotion. And surely +this story of the man Kirski--what he could tell her of it--would be +sufficient to fill up five minutes, eight minutes, ten minute, while +all the time he should be able to dwell on her eyes, whether they were +downcast, or turned to his with their frank, soft glance. He should be +in the perfume of the small drawing-room. He would see the Roman +necklace Mazzini had given her gleam on her bosom as she breathed. + +He did not know what Natalie Lind had been about during his absence. + +"Anneli, Anneli--hither, child!" she called in German. "Run up to Madame +Potecki, and ask her to come and spend the afternoon with me. She must +come at once, to lunch with me; I will wait." + +"Yes, Fraulein. What music, Fraulein?" + +"None; never mind any music. But she must come at once." + +"Schon, Fraulein," said the little Anneli, about to depart. + +Her young mistress called her back, and paused, with a little +hesitation. + +"You may tell Elizabeth," said she, with an indifferent air, "that it is +possible--it is quite possible--it is at least possible--I may have two +friends to lunch with me; and she must send at once if she wants +anything more. And you could bring me back some fresh flowers, Anneli?" + +"Why not, Fraulein?" + +"Go quick, then, Anneli--fly like a roe--_durch Wald und auf der +Haide_!" + +And so it came about that when George Brand was ushered into the scented +little drawing-room--so anxious to make the most of the invaluable +minutes--he found himself introduced first of all to Madame Potecki, a +voluble, energetic little Polish gentlewoman, whose husband had been +killed in the Warsaw disturbances of '61, and who now supported herself +in London by teaching music. She was eager to know all about the man +Kirski, and hoped that he was not wholly a maniac, and trusted that Mr. +Brand would see that her dear child--her adopted daughter, she might +say--was not terrified again by the madman. + +"My dear madame," said Brand, "you must not imagine that it was from +terror that Miss Lind handed over the man to me--it was from kindness. +That is more natural to her than terror." + +"Ah, I know the dear child has the courage of an army," said the little +old lady, tapping her adopted daughter on the shoulder with the fan. +"But she must take care of herself while her papa is away in America." + +Natalie rose; and of course Brand rose also, with a sudden qualm of +disappointment, for he took that as the signal of his dismissal; and he +had scarcely spoken a word to her. + +"Mr. Brand," said she, with some little trifle of embarrassment, "I know +I must have deprived you of your luncheon. It was so kind of you to go +at once with the poor man. Would it save you time--if you are not going +anywhere--I thought perhaps you might come and have something with +madame and myself. You must be dying of hunger." + +He did not refuse the invitation. And behold! when he went down-stairs, +the table was already laid for three; had he been expected, he asked +himself? Those flowers there, too: he knew it was no maid-servant's +fingers that had arranged and distributed them so skilfully. + +How he blessed this little Polish lady, and her volubility, and her +extravagant, subtle, honest flattery of her dear adopted daughter! It +gave him liberty to steep himself in the rich consciousness of Natalie's +presence; he could listen in silence for the sound of her voice--he +could covertly watch the beauty of her shapely hands--without being +considered preoccupied or morose. All he had to do was to say, "Yes, +madame," or "Indeed, madame," the while he knew that Natalie Lind was +breathing the same air with him--that at any moment the large, lustrous +dark eyes might look up and meet his. And she spoke little, too; and had +scarcely her usual frank self-confidence: perhaps a chance reference of +Madame Potecki to the fact that her adopted daughter had been brought up +without a mother had somewhat saddened her. + +The room was shaded in a measure, for the French silk blinds were down; +but there was a soft golden glow prevailing all the same. For many a day +George Brand remembered that little luncheon-party; the dull, bronze +glow of the room; the flowers; the soft, downcast eyes opposite him; the +bright, pleasant garrulity of the little Polish lady; and always--ah, +the delight of it!--that strange, trembling, sweet consciousness that +Natalie Lind was listening as he listened--that almost he could have +heard the beating of her heart. + +And a hundred and a hundred times he swore that, whoever throughout the +laboring and suffering world might regret that day, the man Kirski +should not. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +NEW FRIENDS. + + +It was a Sunday afternoon in Hyde Park, in this pleasantly opening +summer; and there was a fair show of "the quality" come out for their +accustomed promenade, despite the few thunder-showers that had swept +across from the South. These, in fact, had but served to lay the dust, +and to bring out the scent of the hawthorns and lilacs, so that the air +was sweet with perfume; while the massive clouds, banking up in the +North, formed a purple background to show up the young green foliage of +the trees, all wet with rain, and shimmering tremulously in the +sunlight. + +George Brand and his friend Evelyn sat in the back row of chairs, +watching the people pass and repass. It was a sombre procession, but +that here and there appeared a young English girl in her pale spring +costume--paler than the fresh glow of youth and health on her face, and +that here and there the sunlight, wandering down through the branches, +touched a scarlet sunshade--just then coming into fashion--until that +shone like a beautiful spacious flower among the mass of green. + +When they had been silently watching the people for some little time, +Brand said, almost to himself, + +"How very unlike those women she is!" + +"Who? Oh, Natalie Lind," said the other, who had been speaking of her +some minutes before. "Well, that is natural and I don't say it to their +disadvantage. I believe most girls are well-intended enough; but, of +course, they grow up in a particular social atmosphere, and it depends +on that what they become. If it is rather fast, the girl sees nothing +objectionable in being fast too. If it is religious, the god of her +idolatry is a bishop. If it is sporting, she thinks mostly about horses. +Natalie is exceptional, because she has been brought up in exceptional +circumstances. For one thing, she has been a good deal alone; and she +has formed all sorts of beautiful idealisms and aspirations--" + +The conversation dropped here; for at the moment Lord Evelyn espied two +of his sisters coming along in the slow procession. + +"Here come two of the girls," he said to his friend. "How precious +demure they look!" + +Brand at once rose, and went out from the shadow of the trees, to pay +his respects to the two young ladies. + +"How do you do, Miss D'Agincourt? How do you do, Miss Frances?" + +Certainly no one would have suspected these two very graceful and +pleasant-looking girls of being madcap creatures at home. The elder was +a tall and slightly-built blonde, with large gray eyes set wide apart; +the younger a gentle little thing, with brownish eyes, freckles, and a +pretty mouth. + +"Mamma?" said the eldest daughter, in answer to his inquires. "Oh, she +is behind, bringing up the rear, as it were. We have to go in +detachment, or else the police would come and read the riot act against +us. Francie and I are the vanguard; and she feels such a good little +girl, marching along two and two, just as if she were back at Brighton." + +The clear gray eyes--quite demure--glanced in toward the shadows of the +trees. + +"I see you have got Evelyn there, Mr. Brand. Who is the extraordinary +person he is always talking about now--the Maid of Saragossa, or Joan of +Arc, or something like that? Do you know her?" + +"I suppose you mean Miss Lind." + +"I know he has persuaded mamma to go and call on her, and get her to +dine with us, if she will come. Now, I call that kind." + +"If she accepts, you mean?" + +"No, I mean nothing of the sort. Good-bye. If we stay another minute, we +shall have the middle detachments overlapping the vanguard. En avant, +Francie! Vorwarts!" + +She bowed to him, and passed on in her grave and stately manner: more +calmly observant, demurer eyes were not in the Park. + +He ran the gauntlet of the whole family, and at last encountered the +mamma, who brought up the rear with the youngest of her daughters. Lady +Evelyn was a tall, somewhat good-looking, elderly lady, who wore her +silver-white hair in old-fashioned curls. She was an amiable but +strictly matter-of-fact person, who beheld her daughters' mad humors +with surprise as well as alarm. What were they forever laughing at? +Besides, it was indecorous. She had not conducted herself in that manner +when she lived in her father's home. + +Lady Evelyn, who was vaguely aware that Brand knew the Linds, repeated +her daughter's information about the proposed visit, and said that if +Miss Lind would come and spend the evening with them, she hoped Mr. +Brand would come too. + +"These girls do tease dreadfully, I know," said their mamma; "but +perhaps they will behave a little better before a stranger." + +Mr. Brand replied that he hoped Miss Lind would accept the +invitation--for during her father's absence she must be somewhat +dull--but that even without the protection of her presence he was not +afraid to face those formidable young ladies. Whereupon Miss +Geraldine--who was generally called the baby, though she was turned +thirteen--glanced at him with a look which said, "Won't you catch it for +that!" and the mamma then bade him good-bye, saying that Rosalys would +write to him as soon as the evening was arranged. + +He had not long to wait for that expected note. The very next night he +received it. Miss Lind was coming on Thursday; would that suit him? A +quarter to eight. + +He was there punctual to the moment. The presence of the whole rabble of +girls in the drawing-room told him that this was to be a quite private +and domestic dinner-party; on other occasions only two or three of the +phalanx--as Miss D'Agincourt described herself and her sisters--were +chosen to appear. And, on this especial occasion, there was a fine +hubbub of questions and raillery going on--which Brand vainly endeavored +to meet all at once--when he was suddenly rescued. The door was opened, +and Miss Lind was announced. The clamor ceased. + +She was dressed in black, with a red camellia in her bosom, and another +in the magnificent black hair. Brand thought he had never seen her look +so beautiful, and at once so graciously proud and gentle. Lady Evelyn +went forward to meet her, and greeted her very kindly indeed. She was +introduced to one or two of the girls. She shook hands with Mr. Brand, +and gave him a pleasant smile of greeting. Lady Evelyn had to apologize +for her son's absence; he had only gone to write a note. + +The tall, beautiful Hungarian girl seemed not in the least embarrassed +by all these curious eyes, that occasionally and covertly regarded her +while pretending not to do so. Two of the young ladies there were older +than she was, yet she seemed more of a woman than any of them. Her +self-possession was perfect. She sat down by Lady Evelyn, and submitted +to be questioned. The girls afterward told their brother they believed +she was an actress, because of the clever manner in which she managed +her train. + +But at this moment Lord Evelyn made his appearance in great excitement, +and with profuse apologies. + +"But the fact is," said he, producing an evening paper, "the fact +is--just listen to this, Natalie: it is the report of a police case." + +At his thus addressing her by her Christian name the mother started +somewhat, and the demure eyes of the girls were turned to the floor, +lest they should meet any conscious glance. + +"Here is a fellow brought before the Hammersmith magistrate for +indulging in a new form of amusement. Oh, very pretty! very nice! He had +only got hold of a small dog and he was taking it by the two forelegs, +and trying how far he could heave it. Very well; he is brought before +the magistrates. He had only heaved the dog two or three times; nothing +at all, you know. You think he will get off with a forty shillings fine, +or something like that. Not altogether! Two months' hard labor--_two +solid months' hard labor_; and if I had my will of the brute," he +continued, savagely, "I would give ten years' hard labor, and bury him +alive when he came out. However, two months' hard labor is something. I +glory in that magistrate; I have just been up-stairs writing a note +asking him to dine with me. I believe I was introduced to him once." + +"Evelyn quite goes beside himself," his mother said to her guest, with +half an air of apology, "when he reads about cruelty like that." + +"Surely it is better than being callous," said Natalie, speaking very +gently. + +They went in to dinner; and the young ladies were very well behaved +indeed. They did not at all resent the fashion in which the whole +attention of the dinner-table was given to the stranger. + +"And so you like living in England?" said Lady Evelyn to her. + +"I cannot breathe elsewhere," was the simple answer. + +"Why," said the matter-of-fact, silver-haired lady, "if this country is +notorious for anything, it is for its foggy atmosphere!" + +"I think it is famous for something more than that," said the girl, with +just a touch of color in the beautiful face; for she was not accustomed +to speak before so many people. "Is it not more famous for its freedom? +It is that that makes the air so sweet to breathe." + +"Well, at all events, you don't find it very picturesque as compared +with other countries. Evelyn tells me you have travelled a great deal." + +"Perhaps I am not very fond of picturesqueness," Natalie said, +modestly. "When I am travelling through a country I would rather see +plenty of small farms, thriving and prosperous, than splendid ruins that +tell only of oppression and extravagance, and the fierceness of war." + +No one spoke; so she made bold to continue--but she addressed Lady +Evelyn only. + +"No doubt it is very picturesque, as you go up the Rhine, or across the +See Kreis, or through the Lombard plains, to see every height crowned +with its castle. Yes, one cannot help admiring. They are like beautiful +flowers that have blossomed up from the valleys and the plains below. +But who tilled the land, that these should grow there on every height? +Are you not forced to think of the toiling wretches who labored and +labored to carry stone by stone up the crest of the hill? They did not +get much enjoyment out of the grandeur and picturesqueness of the +castles." + +"But they gave that labor for their own protection," Lady Evelyn said, +with a smile. "The great lords and barons were their protectors." + +"The great lords and barons said so, at least," said the girl, without +any smile at all, "and I suppose the peasantry believed them; and were +quite willing to leave their vineyards and go and shed their blood +whenever the great lords and barons quarrelled among themselves." + +"Well said! well said!" Brand exclaimed, quickly; though, indeed, this +calm, gentle-eyed, self-possessed girl was in no need of any champion. + +"I am afraid you are a great Radical, Miss Lind," said Lady Evelyn. + +"Perhaps it is your English air, Lady Evelyn," said the girl, with a +smile. + +Lord Evelyn's mother, notwithstanding her impassive, unimaginative +nature, soon began to betray a decided interest in this new guest, and +even something more. She was attracted, to begin with, by the singular +beauty of the young Hungarian lady, which was foreign-looking, unusual, +picturesque. She was struck by her perfect self-possession, and by the +ease and grace of her manner, which was rather that of a mature +woman than of a girl of nineteen. But most of all she was interested in +her odd talk and opinions, which she expressed with such absolute +simplicity and frankness. Was it, Lady Evelyn asked herself, that the +girl had been brought up so much in the society of men--that she had +neither mother nor sisters--that she spoke of politics and such matters +as if it the most natural thing in the world for women, of whatever +age, to consider them as of first importance? + +But one chance remark that Natalie made, on the impulse of the moment, +did for the briefest possible time break down that charming +self-confidence of hers, and show her--to the wonderment of the English +girls--the prey of an alarmed embarrassment. George Brand had been +talking of patriotism, and of the scorn that must naturally be felt for +the man who would say of his country, "Well, it will last my time. Let +me enjoy myself when I can. What do I care about the future of other +people?" And then he went on to talk of the larger patriotism that +concerned itself not merely with one's fellow-countrymen but with one's +fellow-mortals; and how the stimulus and enthusiasm of that wider +patriotism should be proportionately stronger; and how it might seek to +break down artificial barriers of political systems and religious +creeds. Patriotism was a beautiful flame--a star; but here was a sun. +Ordinary, to tell the truth, Brand was but an indifferent speaker--he +had all an Englishman's self-consciousness; but now he spoke for Natalie +alone, and minded the others but little. Presently Lady Evelyn said, +with a smile, + +"You, too, Miss Lind, are a reformer, are you not? Evelyn is very +mysterious, and I can't quite make out what he means; but at all events +it is very kind of you to spare us an evening when you must be so deeply +engaged." + +"I?" said Natalie. "Oh no, it is very little that I can do. The work is +too difficult and arduous for women, perhaps. But there is one thing +that women can do--they can love and honor those who are working for +them." + +It was spoken impulsively--probably the girl was thinking only of her +father. But at the moment she happened to look up, and there were +Rosalys D'Agincourt's calmly observant eyes fixed on her. Then some +vague echo of what she had said rushed in upon her; she was bewildered +by the possible interpretation others might put on the words; and the +quick, sensitive blood mounted to her forehead. But fortunately Lady +Evelyn, who had missed the whole thing, happened at this very instant to +begin talking of orchids, and Natalie struck in with great relief. So +that little episode went by. + +And, as dinner went on, Brand became more and more convinced that this +family was the most delightful family in England. Just so much restraint +had left their manner as to render those madcap girls exceedingly frank +and good-natured in the courtesy they showed to their guest, and to +admit her as a confidante into their ways of bantering each other. And +one would herself come round to shift the fire-screen behind Miss Lind +to precisely the proper place; and another said that Miss Lind drank +water because Evelyn had been so monstrously stupid as not to have any +Hungarian wine for her; and another asked if she might call on Miss Lind +the following afternoon, to take her to some place where some marvellous +Japanese curiosities were on view. Then, when they left for the +drawing-room, the eldest Miss D'Agincourt put her arm within the arm of +their guest, and said, + +"Now, dear Miss Lind, please understand that, if there was any stranger +here at all, we should not dream of asking you to sing. Ermentrude and I +take all that on our shoulders; we squawk for the whole of the family. +But Evelyn has told us so much about your singing--" + +"Oh, I will sing for you if you wish it," said Natalie, without +hesitation. + +Some little time thereafter Brand was walking up and down the room +below, slowly and thoughtfully: he was not much of a wine-drinker. + +"Evelyn," he said, suddenly, "I shall soon be able to tell you whether I +owe you a life-long gratitude. I owe you much already. Through you I +have got some work to do in the world; I am busy, and content. But there +is a greater prize." + +"I think I can guess what you mean," his companion said, calmly. + +"You do?" said the other, with a quick look. "And you do not think I am +mad?--to go and ask her to be my wife before she has given me a single +word of hope?" + +"She has spoken to others about you: I know what she thinks of you," +said Lord Evelyn. Then the fine, pale face was slightly flushed. "To +tell you the truth, Brand, I thought of this before you ever saw her." + +"Thought of what?" said the other, with a stare of surprise. + +"That you would be the right sort of man to make a husband for her: she +might be left alone in the world at any moment, without a single +relation, and scarcely a friend." + +"Women don't marry for these reasons," said the other, somewhat +absently. "And yet, if she were to think of it, it would not be as if I +were withdrawing her from everything she takes an interest in. We should +be together. I am eager to go forward, even by myself; but with her for +a companion--think of that!" + +"I have thought of it," said Lord Evelyn, with something of a sad smile. +"Often. And there is no man in England more heartily wishes you success +than I do. Come, let us go up to the drawing-room." + +They went out into the hall. Some one was playing a noisy piece +up-stairs; it was safe to speak. And then he said, + +"Shall I tell you something, Brand?--something that will keep you awake +all this night, and not with the saddest of thinking? If I am not +mistaken, I fancy you have already 'stole bonny Glenlyon away.'" + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +A LETTER. + + +Black night lay over the city, and silence; the river flowed unseen +through the darkness; but a thousand golden points of fire mapped out +the lines of the Embankment and the long curves of the distant bridges. +The infrequent sounds that could be heard were strangely distinct, even +when they were faint and remote. There was a slight rustling of wind in +the trees below the window. + +But the night and the silence brought him neither repose nor counsel. A +multitude of bewildering, audacious hopes and distracting fears strove +for mastery in his mind, upsetting altogether the calm and cool judgment +on which he prided himself. His was not a nature to harbor illusions; he +had a hard way of looking at things; and yet--and yet--might not this +chance speech of Lord Evelyn have been something more than a bit of +good-humored raillery? Lord Evelyn was Natalie's intimate friend; he +knew all her surroundings; he was a quick observer; he was likely to +know if this thing was possible. But, on the other hand, how was it +possible that so beautiful a creature, in the perfect flower of her +youth, should be without a lover? He forced himself to remember that she +and her father seemed to see no society at all. Perhaps she was too +useful to him, and he would not have her entangle herself with many +friends. Perhaps they had led too nomadic a life. But even in hotels +abroad, how could she have avoided the admiration she was sure to evoke? +And in Florence, mayhap, or Mentone, or Madrid; and here he began to +conjure up a host of possible rivals, all foreigners, of course, and all +equally detestable, and to draw pictures for him of _tables d'hote_, +with always the one beautiful figure there, unconscious, gentle, silent, +but drawing to her all men's eyes. + +There was but the one way of putting an end to this maddening +uncertainty. He dared not claim an interview with her; she might be +afraid of implying too much by granting it; various considerations might +dictate a refusal. But he could write; and, in point of fact, +writing-materials were on the table. Again and again he had sat down and +taken the pen in his hand, only to get up as often and go and stare out +into the yellow glare of the night. For an instant his shadow would fall +on the foliage of the trees below, and then pass away again like a +ghost. + +At two-and-twenty love is reckless, and glib of speech; it takes little +heed of the future; the light straw-flame, for however short a period, +leaps up merrily enough. But at two-and-thirty it is more alive to +consequences; it is not the present moment, but the duration of life, +that it regards; it seeks to proceed with a sure foot. And at this +crisis, in the midst of all this irresolution, that was unspeakably +vexatious to a man of his firm nature, Brand demanded of himself his +utmost power of self-control. He would not imperil the happiness of his +life by a hasty, importunate appeal. When at length he sat down, +determined not to rise until he had sent her this message, he forced +himself to write--at the beginning, at least--in a roundabout and +indifferent fashion, so that she should not be alarmed. He began by +excusing his writing to her, saying he had scarcely ever had a chance of +talking to her, and that he wished to tell her something of what had +happened to him since the memorable evening on which he had first met +her at her father's house. And he went on to speak to her of a friend of +his, who used to amuse himself with the notion that he would like to +enter himself at a public school and go through his school life all over +again. There he had spent the happiest of his days; why should he not +repeat them? If only the boys would agree to treat him as one of +themselves, why should he not be hail-fellow-well-met with them, and +once more enjoy the fun of uproarious pillow-battles and have smuggled +tarts and lemonade at night, and tame rabbits where no rabbits should +be, and a profound hero-worship for the captain of the school Eleven, +and excursions out of bounds, when his excess of pocket-money would +enable him to stand treat all round? "Why not?" this friend of his used +to say. "Was it so very impossible for one to get back the cares and +interests, the ambitions, the amusements, the high spirits of one's +boyhood?" And if he now were to tell her that a far greater miracle had +happened to himself? That at an age when he had fancied he had done and +seen most things worth doing and seeing, when the past seemed to +contain everything worth having, and there was nothing left but to try +how the tedious hours could be got over; when a listless _ennui_ was +eating his very heart out--that he should be presented, as it were, with +a new lease of life, with stirring hopes and interests, with a new and +beautiful faith, with a work that was a joy in itself, whether any +reward was to be or no? And surely he could not fail to express to Lord +Evelyn and to herself his gratitude for this strange thing. + +These are but the harsh outlines of what, so far, he wrote; but there +was a feeling in it--a touch of gladness and of pathos here and +there--that had never before been in any of his writing, and of which he +was himself unconscious. + +But at this point he paused, and his breathing grew quick. It was so +difficult to write in these measured terms. When he resumed, he wrote +more rapidly. + +What wonder, he made bold to ask her, if amidst all this bewildering +change some still stranger dream of what might be possible in the future +should have taken possession of him? She and he were leagued in sympathy +as regarded the chief object of their lives; it was her voice that had +inspired him; might he not hope that they should go forward together, in +close friendship at least, if there could be nothing more? And as to +that something more, was there no hope? He could give himself no grounds +for any such hope; and yet--so much had happened to him, and mostly +through her, that he could set no limit to the possibilities of +happiness that lay in her generous hands. When he saw her among others, +he despaired; when he thought of her alone, and of the gentleness of her +heart, he dared to hope. And if this declaration of his was distressing +to her, how easy it was for her to dismiss and forget it. If he had +dared too much, he had himself to blame. In any case, she need not fear +that her refusal should have the effect of dissociating them in those +wider interests and sympathies to which he had pledged himself. He was +not one to draw back. And if he had alarmed or offended her, he appealed +to her charity--to that great kindness which she seemed eager to extend +to all living creatures. How could such a vision of possible happiness +have arisen in his mind without his making one effort, however +desperate, to realize it? At the worst, she would forgive. + +This was, in brief, the substance of what he wrote; but when, after many +an anxious re-reading, he put the letter in an envelope, he was +miserably conscious how little it conveyed of all the hope and desire +that had hold of his heart. But then, he argued with himself, if she +inclined her ear so far, surely he would have other and better +opportunities of pleading with her; whereas, if he had been dreaming of +impossibilities, then he and she would meet the more easily in the +future that he had not given too vehement an expression to all the love +and admiration he felt for her. He could not sacrifice her friendship +also--her society--the chances of listening from time to time to the +musical low, soft voice. + +Carrying this fateful letter in his hand, he went down stairs and out +into the cool night air. And now he was haunted by a hundred fears. +Again and again he was on the point of turning back to add something, to +alter something, to find some phrase that would appeal more closely to +her heart. And then all of a sudden he convinced himself that he should +not have written at all. Why not have gone to see her, at any risk, to +plead with herself? But then he would have had to write to beg for a +_tete-a-tete_ interview; and would not that be more distinctly alarming +than this roundabout epistle, which was meant to convey so much +indirectly? Finally, he arrived at the pillar letter-box: and this +indisputable fact brought an end to his cogitations. If he had gone +walking onward he would have wasted the night in fruitless counsel. He +would have repeated again and again the sentences he had used; striven +to picture her as she read; wondered if he ought not still to go back +and strengthen his prayer. But now it was to be yes or no. Well, he +posted the letter; and then he breathed more freely. The die was cast, +for good or ill. + +And, indeed, no sooner was the thing done than his spirits rose +considerably, and he walked on with a lighter heart. This solitary +London, all lamp-lit and silent, was a beautiful city. "_Schlaf selig +und suss_," the soft stirring of the night-wind seemed to say: let her +not dread the message the morning would bring! He thought of the other +cities she must have visited; and if--ah, the dream of it!--if he and +she were to go away together to behold the glories of the moonlight on +the lagoon, and the wonders of the sunrise among the hills! He had been +in Rome, he remembered, a wonderful coronet of rubies: would not that do +for the beautiful black masses of hair? Or pearls? She did not appear to +have much jewellery. Or rather--seeing that such things are possible +between husband and wife--would she not accept the value, and far more +than the value, of any jewellery she could desire, to be given away in +acts of kindness? That would be more like Natalie. + +He walked on, his heart full of an audacious joy; for now this was the +picture before him; a Buckinghamshire hill; a red and white house among +the beeches; and a spacious lawn looking out on the far and wooded +plain, with its villages, and spires, and tiny curls of smoke. And this +foreign young lady become an English house-mistress; proud of her +nectarines and pineapples; proud of her Hungarian horses; proud of the +quiet and comfort of the home she can offer to her friends, when they +come for a space to rest from their labors.... "_Schlaf selig und +suss!_" the night-wind seemed to say: "The white morning is bringing +with it a message!" + +To him the morning brought an end to all those golden dreams of the +night. There action had set in. His old misgivings returned with +redoubled force. For one thing, there was a letter from Reitzei, saying +that the man Kirski had at length consented to begin to work at his +trade, and that Miss Lind need fear no further annoyance; and somehow he +did not like to see her name written in this foreign way of writing. She +belonged to these foreigners; her cares and interests were not those of +one who would feel at home in that Buckhamshire home; she was remote. +And, of course, in her manifold wanderings--in those hotels in which she +had to pass the day, when her father was absent at his secret +interviews--how could she avoid making acquaintances? Even among those +numerous friends of her father's there must have been some one here or +there to accompany her in her drives in the Prater, in her evenings at +La Scala, in her morning walk along the Chiaja. He remembered how seldom +he had seen her; she might have many more friends in London than he had +dreamed of. Who could see her, and remain blind to her beauty? Who could +know her, and remain insensible to the fascination of her enthusiasm, +her faith in the right, her courage, her hope, her frank friendship with +those who would help? + +He was impatient with the veteran Waters this morning; and Waters was +himself fractious, and inclined to resent sarcasm. He had just heard +from Buckinghamshire that his substitute had, for some reason or other, +intrusted the keys of the wine-cellar to one of the house-maids; and +that that industrious person had seized the opportunity to tilt up all +the port-wine she could lay her hands on in order to polish the bottles +with a duster. + +"Well," said his master, "I suppose she collected the cobwebs and sold +them to a wine-merchant: they would be invaluable." + +Waters said nothing, but resolved to have a word with the young woman +when he went down. + +The morning was fine; in any case, Brand could not have borne the +distress of waiting in all day, on the chance of her reply coming. He +had to be moving. He walked up to Lisle Street, and saw Reitzei, on the +pretext of talking about Kirski. + +"Lind will be back in a week," said the pallid-faced smart young man. +"He writes with great satisfaction, which always means something in his +case. I should not wonder if he and his daughter went to live in the +States." + +"Oh, indeed," said Brand, coldly; but the words made his heart tremble. + +"Yes. And if you would only go through the remaining degrees, you might +take his place--who knows?" + +"Who knows, indeed?" said Brand. "But I don't covet the honor." + +There was something in his tone which made the other look up. + +"I mean the responsibility," he said, quickly. + +"You see," observed Reitzei, leaning back in his chair, "one must admit +you are having rather hard lines. Your work is invaluable to us--Lind is +most proud of it--but it is tedious and difficult, eh? Now if they were +to give you something like the Syrian business--" + +"What is that?" + +"Oh, only one of the many duties the Society has undertaken," said +Reitzei, carelessly. "Not that I approve because the people are +Christians; it is because they are numerically weak; and the Mahommedans +treat them shamefully. There is no one knows about it; no one to make a +row about it; and the Government won't let the poor wretches import arms +to defend themselves. Very well: very well, messieurs! But your +Government allow the importation of guns for sport. Ha! and then, if one +can find money, and an ingenious English firm to make rifle-barrels to +fit into the sporting-gun stock can you conceive any greater fun than +smuggling these barrels into the country? My dear fellow, it is +glorious: we could have five hundred volunteers! But at the same time I +say your work is more valuable to us. No one but an Englishman could do +it. Every one knows of your success." + +Brand thanked Reitzei for his good opinion, and rather absently took up +his hat and left. Instinctively he made his way westward. He was sure to +see her, at a distance, taking this morning stroll of hers: might he not +guess something from her face as to what her reply would be? She could +not have written so soon; she would take time to consider; even a +refusal would, he knew, be gently worded. + +In any case, he would see her; and if her answer gave no hope, it would +be the last time on which he would follow that graceful figure from afar +with his eyes, and wonder to himself what the low and musical voice was +saying to Anneli. And as he walked on, he grew more and more +downhearted. It was a certainty that, out of all those friends of her +father's some one must have dreamed of possessing this beautiful prize +for his own. + +When, after not much waiting, he saw Natalie and Anneli cross into the +Park, he had so reasoned himself into despair that he was not +surprised--at least he tried to convince himself that he was not +surprised--to perceive that the former was accompanied by a stranger, +the little German maid-servant walking not quite with them, and yet not +altogether behind them. He could almost have expected this; and yet his +eyes seemed hot, and he had some difficulty in trying to make out who +this might be. And at this great distance he could only gather that he +was foreign in appearance, and that he wore a peaked cap in place of a +hat. + +He dared not follow them now; and he was about to turn away when he saw +Natalie's new companion motion to her to sit down on one of the seats. +He sat down, too; and he took her hand, and held it in his. What then? + +This man looking on from a distance, with a bitter heart, had no thought +against her. Was it not natural for so beautiful a girl to have a lover? +But that this fellow--this foreigner--should degrade her by treating her +as if she were a nursery-maid flirting with one of the soldiers from the +barracks down there, this filled him with bitterness and hatred. He +turned and walked away with a firm step. He had no ill thoughts of her, +whatever message she might send him. At the worst, she had been generous +to him; she had filled his life with love and hope; she had given him a +future. If this dream were shattered, at least he could turn elsewhere, +and say, "Labor, be thou my good." + +Meanwhile, of this stranger? He had indeed taken Natalie Lind's hand in +his, and Natalie let it remain there without hesitation. + +"My little daughter," said he to her in Italian, "I could have +recognized you by your hands. You have the hands of your mother: no one +in the world had more beautiful hands than she had. And now I will tell +you about her, if you promise not to cry any more." + +It was Calabressa who spoke. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +CALABRESSA. + + +When Calabressa called at the house in Curzon Street he was at once +admitted; Natalie recognizing the name as that of one of her father's +old friends. Calabressa had got himself up very smartly, to produce an +impression on the little Natalushka whom he expected to see. His +military-looking coat was tightly buttoned; he had burnished up the gold +braid of his cap; and as he now ascended the stairs he gathered the ends +of his mustache out of his yellow-white beard and curled them round and +round his fingers and pulled them out straight. He had already assumed a +pleasant smile. + +But when he entered the shaded drawing-room, and beheld this figure +before him, all the dancing-master's manner instantly fled from him. He +seemed thunderstruck; he shrunk back a little; his cap fell to the +floor; he could not utter a word. + +"Excuse me--excuse me, mademoiselle," he gasped out at length, in his +odd French. "Ah, it is like a ghost--like other years come back--" + +He stared at her. + +"I am very pleased to see you, sir," said she to him, gently, in +Italian. + +"Her voice also--her voice also!" he exclaimed, almost to himself, in +the same tongue. "Signorina, you will forgive me--but--when one sees an +old friend--you are so like--ah, so like--" + +"You are speaking of my mother?" the girl said, with her eyes cast down. +"I have been told that I was like her. You knew her, signore?" + +Calabressa pulled himself together somewhat. He picked up his cap; he +assumed a more business-like air. + +"Oh yes, signorina, I knew her," he said, with an apparent carelessness, +but he was regarding her all the same. "Yes, I knew her well. We were +friends long before she married. What, are you surprised that I am so +old? Do you know that I can remember you when you were a very little +thing--at Dunkirk it was--and what a valiant young lady you were, and +you would go to fight the Russians all by yourself! And you--you do not +remember your mother?" + +"I cannot tell," she said, sadly. "They say it is impossible, and yet I +seem to remember one who loved me, and my grief when I asked for her and +found she would never come back--or else that is only my recollection of +what I was told by others. But what of that? I know where she is now: +she is my constant companion. I know she loved me; I know she is always +regarding me; I talk to her, so that I am never quite alone; at night I +pray to her, as if she were a saint--" + +She turned aside somewhat; her eyes were full of tears. Calabressa said +quickly, + +"Ah, signorina, why recall what is so sad? It is so useless. _Allons +donc!_ shall I tell you of my surprise when I saw you first? A +ghost--that is nothing! It is true, your father warned me. He said, 'The +little Natalushka is a woman now.' But how could one believe it?" + +She had recovered her composure; she begged him to be seated. + +"_Bien!_ One forgets. Then my old mother--my dear young lady, even I, +old as I am, have a mother--what does she do but draw a prize in the +Austro-Hungarian lottery--a huge prize--enough to demoralize one for +life--five thousand florins. More remarkable still, the money is paid. +Not so remarkable, my good mother declares she will give half of it to +an undutiful son, who has never done very well with money in this world. +We come to the _denouement_ quickly. 'What,' said I, 'shall I do with my +new-found liberty and my new-found money? To the devil with banks! I +will be off and away to the land of fogs to see my little friend +Natalushka, and ask her what she thinks of the Russians now.' And the +result? My little daughter, you have given me such a fright that I can +feel my hands still trembling." + +"I am very sorry," said she, with a smile. This gay manner of his had +driven away her sad memories. It seemed quite natural to her that he +should address her as "My little daughter." + +"But where are the fogs? It is a paradise that I have reached--the air +clear and soft, the gardens beautiful. This morning I said to myself, 'I +will go early. Perhaps the little Natalushka will be going out for a +walk; perhaps we will go together.' No, signorina," said he, with a +mock-heroic bow, "it was not with the intention of buying you toys. But +was I not right? Do I not perceive by your costume that you were about +to go out?" + +"That is nothing, signore," said she. "It would be very strange if I +could not give up my morning walk for an old friend of my father's." + +"_An contraire_, you shall not give up your walk," said he, with great +courtesy. "We will go together; and then you will tell me about your +father." + +She accepted this invitation without the slightest scruple. It did not +occur to her--as it would naturally have occurred, to most English +girls--that she would rather not go walking in Hyde Park with a person +who looked remarkably like the leader of a German band. + +But Calabressa had known her mother. + +"Ah, signore," said she, when they had got into the outer air, "I shall +be so grateful to you if you will tell me about my mother. My father +will not speak of her; I dare not awaken his grief again; he must have +suffered much. You will tell me about her." + +"My little daughter, your father is wise. Why awaken old sorrows? You +must not spoil your eyes with more crying." + +And then he went on to speak of all sorts of things, in his rapid, +interjectional fashion--of his escape from prison mostly--until he +perceived that she was rather silent and sad. + +"Come then," said he, "we will sit down on this seat. Give me your +hand." + +She placed her hand in his without hesitation; and he patted it gently, +and said how like it was to the hand of her mother. + +"You are a little taller than she was," said he; "a little--not much. +Ah, how beautiful she was! She had many sweethearts." + +He was silent for a minute or two. + +"Some of them richer, some of them of nobler birth than your father; and +one of them her own cousin, whom all her family wanted her to marry. But +you know, little daughter, your father is a very determined man--" + +"But she loved him the best?" said the girl, quickly. + +"Ah, no doubt, no doubt," said Calabressa. "He is very kind to you, is +he not?" + +"Oh yes. Who could be kinder? But about my mother, signore?" + +Calabressa seemed somewhat embarrassed. + +"To say the truth, little daughter, how am I to tell you? I scarcely +ever saw her after she married. Before then, you must imagine yourself +as you are to think of her picture: and she was very much beloved--and +very fond of horses. Is not that enough to tell? Ah, yes, another thing: +she was very brave when there was any danger; and you know all the +family were strong patriots; and one or two got into sad trouble. When +her father--that is your grandfather, little daughter--when he failed to +escape into Turkey after the assassination--" + +Here Calabressa stopped, and then gave a slight wave of his hand. + +"These are matters not interesting to you. But when her father had to +seek a hiding-place she went with him in despite of everybody. I do not +suppose he would be alive now but for her devotion." + +"Is my mother's father alive?" the girl said, with eyes wide open. + +"I believe so; but the less said about it the better, little daughter." + +"Why has my father never told me?" she asked, with the same almost +incredulous stare. + +"Have I not hinted? The less said the better. There are some things no +government will amnesty. Your grandfather was a good patriot, little +daughter." + +Thereafter for some minutes silence. Slight as was the information +Calabressa had given her, it was of intensest interest to her. There was +much for her to think over. Her mother, whom she had been accustomed to +regard as a beautiful saint, placed far above the common ways of earth, +was suddenly presented to her in a new light. She thought of her young, +handsome, surrounded with lovers, proud-spirited and patriotic--a +devoted daughter, a brave woman. + +"You also loved her?" she said to Calabressa. + +The man started. She had spoken quite innocently--almost absently: she +was thinking that he, too, must have loved the brave young Hungarian +girl as all the world loved her. + +"I?" said Calabressa. "Oh yes, I was a friend of hers for many years. I +taught her Italian; she corrected my Magyar. Once her horse ran way; I +was walking, and saw her coming; there was a wagon and oxen, and I +shouted to the man; he drew the oxen right across the road, and barred +the way. Ah, how angry she used to be--she pretended to be--when they +told her I had saved her life! She was a bold rider." + +Presently Calabressa said, with a lighter air, + +"Come, let us talk of something else--of you, _par exemple_. How do you +like the English? You have many sweethearts among them, of course." + +"No, signore, I have no sweethearts," said Natalie, without any trace of +embarrassment. + +"What! Is is possible? When I saw your father in Venice, and he told me +the little Natalushka had grown to be a woman. I said to him, 'Then she +will marry an Englishman.'" + +"And what did he say?" the girl asked, with a startled look on her face. + +"Oh, little, very little. If there was no possibility, why should he say +much?" + +"I have no sweethearts," said Natalie, simply; "but I have a friend--who +wishes to be more than a friend. And it is now, when I have to answer +him, it is now that I know what a sad thing it is to have no mother." + +The pathetic vibration that Brand had noticed was in her voice; her eyes +were downcast, her hands clasped. For a second or two Calabressa was +silent. + +"I am not idly curious, my little daughter," he said at length, and very +gently; "but if you knew how long your mother and I were friends, you +would understand the interest I feel in you, and why I came all this way +to see the little Natalushka. So, one question, dear little one. Does +your father approve?" + +"Ah, how can I tell?" + +He took her hand, and his face was grave. + +"Listen now," said he; "I am going to give you advice. If your mother +could speak to you, this is what she would say: Whatever +happens--whatever happens--do not thwart your father's wishes." + +She wished to withdraw her hand, but he still held it. + +"I do not understand you," she said. "Papa's wishes will always be for +my happiness; why should I think of thwarting them?" + +"Why, indeed? And again, why? It is my advice to you, my little +daughter, whether you think your father's wishes are for your happiness +or not--because, you know, sometimes fathers and daughters have +different ideas--do not go against his will." + +The hot blood mounted to Natalie's forehead--for the first time during +this interview. + +"Are you predicting strife, signore? I owe obedience to my father, I +know it; but I am not a child. I am a woman, and have my own wishes. My +papa would not think of thwarting them." + +"Natalushka, you must not be angry with me." + +"I am not angry, signore; but you must not suppose that I am quite a +child." + +"Pardieu, non!" said Calabressa. "I expected to find Natalushka; I find +Natalie--ah, Heaven! that is the wonder and the sadness of it to me! I +think I am talking to your mother: these are her hands. I listen to her +voice: it seems twenty years ago. And you have a proud spirit, as she +had: again I say--do not thwart your father's wishes, Natalie--rather, +Natalushka!" + +He spoke with such an obvious kindness and earnestness that she could +not feel offended. + +"And if you want any one to help you at any time, my little +daughter--for who knows the ways of the world, and what may happen?--if +your father is sent away, and you are alone, and you want some one to do +something for you, then this is what you will say to yourself: 'There is +that old fool Calabressa, who has nothing in the world to do but smoke +cigarettes and twirl his mustache--I will send for Calabressa.' And this +I promise, little one, that Calabressa will very soon be at your feet." + +"I thank you signore." + +"It is true, I may be away on duty, as your father might be; but I have +friends at head-quarters; I have done some service. And if I were to +say, 'Calabressa wishes to be relieved from duty; it is the daughter of +Natalie Berezolyi who demands his presence,' I know the answer: +'Calabressa will proceed at once to obey the commands of the daughter of +Natalie Berezolyi.'" + +"But who--" + +"No, my little daughter, you must not ask that. I will tell you only +that they are all-powerful; that they will protect you--with Calabressa +as their agent; and before I leave this city I will give you my address, +or rather I will give you an address where you will find some one who +will guide you to me. May Heaven grant that there be no need. Why should +harm come to one who is so beautiful and so gentle?" + +"My mother--was she happy?" she said quickly. + +"Little daughter," said he, sharply, and he threw away her hand, "if you +ask me any more questions about your mother you will make my heart +bleed. Do you not understand so simple a thing as that, you who claim +to be a woman? You have been stabbing me. Come, come: _allons!_--let us +talk of something else--of your friend who wishes to be more than a +friend--you wicked little one, who have no sweetheart! And what are +those fools of English about? What? But tell me--is he one of us?" + +"Oh yes, signore," said she; and instead of showing any shamefacedness, +she turned toward him and regarded him with the fearless, soft dark +eyes. "How could you think otherwise? And he is so brave and noble: he +is not afraid of sacrificing those things that the English put such +store by--" + +"English?" said Calabressa. + +"Yes," said Natalie; and now she looked down. + +"And what does your heart say?" + +She spoke very gently in reply. + +"Signor, I have not answered him yet; you cannot expect me to answer +you." + +"A la bonne heure! Little traitress, to say she has no sweethearts! +Happy Englishman! What, then, do I distress you? It is not so simple! It +is an embarrassment, this proposal that he has made to you! But I will +not trouble you further with my questions, little daughter: how can an +old jail-bird like myself understand a young linnet-thing that has +always been flying and fluttering about in happiness and the free air? +Enfin, let us go! I perceive your little maid is tired of standing and +staring; perhaps it is time for you to go back." + +She rose, and the three of them slowly proceeded along the gravelled +path. + +"Your father does not return until next week: must I wait a whole week +in this desert of a town before seeing you again, petite?" + +"Oh no," said Natalie, smiling; "that is not necessary. If my papa were +here now he would certainly ask you to dine with us to-night; may I do +so in his place? You will not find much amusement; but Madame +Potecki--you knew her husband, perhaps?" + +"Potecki the Pole, who was killed?" + +"Yes. She will play a little music for you. But there are so many +amusements in London, perhaps you would rather not spend your evening +with two poor solitary creatures like us." + +"My little daughter, to hear you speak, that is all I want; it takes +twenty years away from my life; I do not know whether to laugh or to +cry. But _courage_! we will put a good face on our little griefs. This +evening--this evening I will pretend to myself something--I am going to +live my old life over again--for an hour; I will blow a horn as soon as +I have crossed the Erlau, and they will hear it up at the big house +among the pines, where the lights are shining through the dark, and they +will send a servant down to open the gates; and you will appear at the +hall-door, and say, 'Signor Calabressa, why do you make such a noise to +awaken the dogs?' And I will say, 'Dear Miss Berezolyi, the pine-woods +are frightfully dark; may I not scare away the ghosts?" + +"It was my mother who received you," the girl said, in a low voice. + +"It was Natalie then; to-night it will be Natalushka." + +He spoke lightly, so as not to make these reminiscences too serious. But +the conjunction of the two names seemed suddenly to startle the girl. +She stopped, and looked him in the face. + +"It was you, then," she said, "who sent me the locket?" + +"What locket?" he said, with surprise. + +"The locket the lady dropped into my lap--'_From Natalie to +Natalushka_.'" + +"I declare to you, little daughter, I never heard of it." + +The girl looked bewildered. + +"Ah, how stupid I am!" she exclaimed. "I could not understand. But if +they always called her Natalie, and me Natalushka--" + +She paused for a moment to collect her thoughts. + +"Signor Calabressa, what does it mean?" she said, almost wildly. "If one +sends me a locket--'_From Natalie to Natalushka_'--was it my mother's? +Did she intend it for me? Did she leave it for me with some one, long +ago? How could it come into the hands of a stranger?" + +Calabressa himself seemed rather bewildered--almost alarmed. + +"My little daughter, you have no doubt guessed right," he said, +soothingly. "Your mother may have meant it for you--and--and perhaps it +was lost--and just recovered--" + +"Signor Calabressa," said she--and he could have fancied it was her +mother who was speaking in that low, earnest, almost sad voice--"you +said you would do me an act of friendship if I asked you. I cannot ask +my father; he seems too grieved to speak of my mother at any time; but +do you think you could find out who the lady was who brought that locket +to me? That would be kind of you, if you could do that." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +HER ANSWER. + + +Humphreys, the delegate from the North, and O'Halloran, the Irish +reporter, had been invited by George Brand to dine with him on this +evening--Humphreys having to start for Wolverhampton next day--and the +three were just sitting down when Lord Evelyn called in, uninvited, and +asked if he might have a plate placed for him. Humphreys was anxious +that their host should set out with him for the North in the morning; +but Brand would not promise. He was obviously thinking of other things. +He was at once restless, preoccupied, and silent. + +"I hope, my lord, you have come to put our friend here in better +spirits," said Humphreys, blushing a little as he ventured to call one +of the Brands of Darlington his friend. + +"What is the matter?" + +At this moment Waters appeared at the door with a letter in his hand. +Brand instantly rose, went forward to him and took the letter, and +retired into an adjoining room. Without looking, he know from whom it +had come. + +His hand was shaking as he opened the envelope; but the words that met +his eyes were calm. + +"My dear friend,--Your letter has given me joy and pain. Joy that you +still adhere to your noble resolve; that you have found gladness in your +life; that you will work on to the end, whatever the fruit of the work +may be. But this other thought of yours--that only distresses me; it +clouds the future with uncertainty and doubt, where there should only be +clear faith. My dear friend, I must ask you to put away that thought. +Let the _feu sacre_ of the regenerator, the liberator, have full +possession of you. How I should blame myself if I were to distract you +from the aims to which you have devoted your life. I have no one to +advise me; but this I know is _right_. You will, I think, not +misunderstand me--you will not think it unmaidenly of me--if I confess +to you that I have written these words with some pain, some touch of +regret that all is not possible to you that you may desire. But for one +soul on devotion. Do I express myself clearly?--you know English is not +my native tongue. If we may not go through life together, in the sense +that you mean, we need not be far apart; and you will know, as you go +forward in the path of a noble duty, that there is not any one who +regards you and the work you will do with a greater pride and affection +than your friend, + + NATALIE." + +What could it all mean? he asked himself. This was not the letter of a +woman who loved another man; she would have been more explicit; she +would have given sufficient reason for her refusal. He read again, with +a beating heart, with a wild hope, that veiled and subtle expression of +regret. Was it not that she was prepared to sacrifice forever those +dreams of a secure and happy and loving life, that come naturally to a +young girl, lest they should interfere with what she regarded as the +higher duty, the more imperative devotion? In that case, it was for a +firmer nature than her own to take this matter in hand. She was but a +child; knowing nothing of the sorrows of the world, of the necessity of +protection, of the chances the years might bring. Scarcely conscious of +what he did--so eagerly was his mind engaged--he opened a drawer and +locked the letter in. Then he went hastily into the other room. + +"Evelyn," said he, "will you take my place, like a good fellow? I shall +be back as soon as I can. Waters will get you everything you want." + +"But about Wolverhampton, Mr. Brand?" shouted Humphreys after him. + +There was no answer; he was half-way down the stairs. + +When the hansom arrived in Curzon Street a hurried glance showed him +that the dining-room was lit up. She was at home, then: that was enough. +For the rest, he was not going to trouble himself with formalities when +so beautiful a prize might still be within his reach. + +He knocked at the door; the little Anneli appeared. + +"Anneli," said he, "I want to see Miss Lind for a moment--say I shall +not detain her, if there is any one with her--" + +"They are in the dining-room, sir; Madame Potecki, and a strange +gentleman--" + +"Ask your mistress to let me see her for one moment; don't you +understand?" + +"They are just finishing dinner, sir: if you will step up to the +drawing-room they will be there in a minute or two." + +But at last he got the little German maid to understand that he wished +to see Miss Lind alone for the briefest possible time; and that she was +to carry this message in an undertone to her mistress. By himself he +made his way up-stairs to the drawing-room; the lamps were lit. + +He lifted books, photographs, and what not, with trembling fingers, and +put them down again without knowing it. He was thinking, not looking. +And he was trying to force himself into a masterful mood. She was only a +child, he kept repeating to himself--only a child, who wanted guidance, +instruction, a protecting hand. It was not her fancies, however generous +and noble, that should shape the destinies of two lives. A beautiful +child, ignorant of the world and its evil: full of dreams of impossible +and unnecessary self-sacrifice, she was not one to ordain; surely her +way in life was to be led, and cherished, and loved, trusting to the +stronger hand for guidance and safety. + +There was a slight rustle outside, and presently Natalie entered the +room. She was pale--perhaps she looked all the paler that she wore the +long, sweeping black dress she had worn at Lady Evelyn's. In silence she +gave him her hand; he took it in both his. + +"Natalie!" + +It was a cry of entreaty, almost of pain; for this fond vision of his of +her being only a child, to be mastered and guided, had fled the moment +he caught sight of this tall and beautiful woman, whose self-command, +despite that paleness and a certain apprehension in the dark eyes, was +far greater than his own. + +"Natalie, you must give me a clearer answer." + +He tried to read the answer in her eyes; but she lowered them as she +spoke. + +"Was not my answer clear?" she said, gently. "I wished not to give you +pain." + +"But was all your answer there?" he said quickly. "Were there no other +reasons? Natalie! don't you know that, if you regretted your decision +ever so little--if you thought twice about it--if even now you can give +me leave to hope that one day you will be my wife--there were no reasons +at all in your letter for your refusing--none at all? If you love me +even so little that you regret--" + +"I must not listen to you," she said hurriedly. "No, no. My answer was +best for us both. I am sorry if it pains you; but you have other things +to think of; we have our separate duties in the world--duties that are +of first importance. My dear friend," she continued, with an air of +appeal, "don't you see how I am situated? I have no one to advise +me--not even my father, though I can guess what he would say. I know +what he would say; and my heart tells me that I have done right." + +"One word," said he. "This you must answer me frankly. Is there no +other reason for your refusal? Is your heart free to choose?" + +She looked up and met his eyes for a moment: only for a moment. + +"I understand you," she said, with some slight color mounting to the +pale clear olive of her brow. "No, there is not any reason like that." + +A quick, proud light leaped into his eyes. + +"Then," said he, "I refuse to accept your refusal. Natalie, you will be +my wife!" + +"Oh, do not say that--do not think of it. I have done wrong even to +listen, to let you speak--" + +"But what I say is true. I claim you, as surely as I now hold your +hand--" + +"Hush!" + +There were two people coming into the room; he did not care if there +were a regiment. He relinquished her hand, it is true; but there was a +proud and grateful look on his face; he did not even turn to regard the +new-comers. + +These were Madame Potecki and Calabressa. The little Polish lady had +misconstrued Natalie's parting words to mean that some visitors had +arrived, and that she and Calabressa were to follow when they pleased. +Now that they had appeared in the drawing-room, they could not fail to +perceive how matters stood, and, in fact, the little gentlewoman was on +the point of retiring. But Natalie was quite mistress of the situation. +She reminded Madame Potecki that she had met Mr. Brand before. She +introduced Calabressa to the stranger, saying that he was a friend of +her father's. + +"It is opportune--it is a felicitous circumstance," said Calabressa, in +his nasal French. "Mademoiselle, behold the truth. If I do not have a +cigarette after my food, I die--veritably I die! Now your friend, the +friend of the house, surely he will take compassion on me; and we will +have a cigarette together in some apartment." + +Here he touched Brand's elbow, having sidled up to him. On any other +occasion Brand would have resented the touch, the invitation, the mere +presence of this theatrical-looking albino. But he was not in a captious +mood. How could he refuse when he heard Natalie say, in her soft, low +voice, + +"Will you be so kind, Mr. Brand? Anneli will light up papa's little +smoking-room." + +Directly afterward he found himself in the small study, alone with this +odd-looking person, whom he easily recognized as the stranger who had +been walking in the Park with Natalie in the morning. Closer inspection +rendered him less afraid of this rival. + +Calabressa rolled a cigarette between his fingers, and lit it. + +"I ask your pardon, monsieur. I ask your pardon beforehand. I am about +to be impertinent; it is necessary. If you will tell me some things, I +will tell you some things which it may be better for you to know. First, +then, I assume that you wish to marry that dear child, that beautiful +young lady up-stairs." + +"My good friend, you are a little bit too outrageous," said Brand. + +"Ah! Then I must begin. You know, perhaps, that the mother of this young +lady is alive?" + +"Alive!" + +"I perceive you do not know," said Calabressa, coolly. "I thought you +would know--I thought you would guess. A child might guess. She told me +you had seen the locket--_Natalie to Natalushka_--was not that enough?" + +"If Miss Lind herself did not guess that her mother was alive, how +should I?" + +"If you have been brought up for sixteen or eighteen years to mourn one +as dead, you do not quickly imagine that he or she is not dead: you +perceive?" + +"Well, it is extraordinary enough," said Brand, thoughtfully. "With such +a daughter, if she has the heart of a mother at all, how could she +remain away from her for sixteen years?" + +A thought struck him, and his forehead colored quickly. + +"There was no disgrace?" + +At this word Calabressa started, and the small eyes flashed fire. + +"I tell you, monsieur, that it is not in my presence that any one must +mention the word disgrace and also the name of Natalie Berezolyi. No; I +will answer--I myself--I will answer for the good name of Natalie +Berezolyi, by the bounty of Heaven!" + +He shrugged his shoulders. + +"You are ignorant--you made a mistake. And I--well, you perceive, +monsieur, that I am not ashamed to confess--I loved her; she was the +radiant light, the star of my life!" + +"La lumiere rayonnante, l'etoile de ma vie!"--the phrases sounded +ridiculous enough when uttered by this histrionic person; but even his +self-conscious gesticulation did not offend Brand. This man, at all +events, had loved the mother of Natalie. + +"Then it was some very powerful motive that kept mother and daughter +apart?" said he. + +"Yes; I cannot explain it all to you, if I quite know it all. But every +year the mother comes with a birthday present of flowers for the child, +and watches to see her once or twice; and then away back she goes to the +retreat of her father. Ah, the devotion of that beautiful saint! If +there is a heaven at all, Natalie Berezolyi will be among the angels." + +"Then you have come to tell Natalie that her mother is alive. I envy +you. How grateful the girl will be to you!" + +"I? What, I? No, truly, I dare not. And that is why I wish to speak to +you: I thought perhaps you would guess, or find out: then I say, do not +utter a word! Why do I give you this secret? Why have I sought to speak +with you, monsieur? Well, if you will not speak, I will. Something the +little Natalushka said--to me she must always be the little Natalushka +in name, though she is so handsome a woman now--something she said to me +revealed a little secret. Then I said, 'Perhaps Natalushka will have a +happier life than Natalie has had, only her husband must be discreet.' +Now, monsieur, listen to me. What I said to Natalushka I say to you: do +not thwart her father's wishes. He is a determined man, and angry when +he is opposed." + +"My good sir, other people may have an ounce or two of determination +also. You mean that I must never let Natalie know that her mother is +alive, for fear of Lind? Is that what you mean? Come, then!" + +He strode to the door, and had his hand on the handle, when Calabressa +jumped up and caught him, and interposed. + +"For Heaven's sake--for Heaven's sake, monsieur, why be so +inconsiderate, so rash?" + +"Has the dread of this man frightened you out of your wits?" + +"He is invulnerable--and implacable," said Calabressa. "But he is a good +friend when he has his own way. Why not be friends? You will have to ask +him for his daughter. Consider, monsieur, that is something." + +"Well, there is reason in that," Brand said, reflectively. "And I am +inclined to be friendly with every one to-night, Signor Calabressa. It +may be that Lind has his reasons; and he is the natural guardian of his +daughter--at present. But she might have another guardian, Signor +Calabressa?" + +"The wicked one!--she has promised herself to you? And she told me she +had no sweethearts, the rogue!" + +"No, she has not promised. But what may not one dare to hope for, when +one sees her so generous and kind? She is like her mother, is she not? +Now I am going to slip away, Signor Calabressa; when you have had +another cigarette, will you go up-stairs and explain to the two ladies +that I have three friends who are now dining at my house, and I must get +back to them?" + +Calabressa rose, and took the taller man's hand in his. + +"I think our little Natalushka is right in trusting herself to you; I +think you will be kind to her; I know you will be brave enough to +protect her. All very well. But you English are so headstrong. Why not a +little caution, a little prudence, to smooth the way through life?" + +Brand laughed: but he had taken a liking to this odd-looking man. + +"Now, good-night, Signor Calabressa. You have done me a great service. +And if Natalie's mother wishes to see her daughter--well, I think the +opportunity will come. In the mean time, I will be quite cautious and +prudent, and compromise nobody; even if I cannot wholly promise to +tremble at the name of the Invulnerable and the Implacable." + +"Ah, monsieur," said Calabressa, with a sigh, his gay gesticulation +having quite left him, "I hope I have done no mischief. It was all for +the little Natalushka. It will be so much better for you and for her to +be on good terms with Ferdinand Lind." + +"We will see," Brand said, lightly. "The people in this part of the +world generally do as they're done by." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +AT THE CULTURVEREIN. + + +On calm reflection, Calabressa gave himself the benefit of his own +approval; and, on the whole, was rather proud of his diplomacy. He had +revealed enough, and not too much; he had given the headstrong +Englishman prudent warnings and judicious counsel; he had done what he +could for the future of the little Natalushka, who was the daughter of +Natalie Berezolyi. But there was something more. + +He went up-stairs. + +"My dear little one," he said, in his queer French, "behold me--I come +alone. Your English friend sends a thousand apologies--he has to return +to his guests: is it an English custom to leave guests in such a manner? +Ah, Madame Potecki, there is a time in one's life when one does strange +things, is there not? When a farewell before strangers is +hateful--impossible; when you rather go away silently than come before +strangers and shake hands, and all the rest. What, wicked little one, +you look alarmed! Is it a secret, then? Does not madame guess anything?" + +"I entreat you, Signor Calabressa, not to speak in riddles," said +Natalie, hastily. "See, here is a telegram from papa. He will be back in +London on Monday next week. You can stay to see him, can you not?"' + +"Mademoiselle, do you not understand that I am not my own master for two +moments in succession? For this present moment I am; the next I may be +under orders. But if my freedom, my holiday, lasts--yes, I shall be glad +to see your father, and I will wait. In the mean time, I must use up my +present moment. Can you give me the address of Vincent Beratinsky?" + +She wrote it down for him; it was a number in Oxford Street. + +"Now I will add my excuses to those of the tall Englishman," said he, +rising. "Good-night, madame. Good-night, mademoiselle--truly, it is a +folly to call you the little Natalushka, who are taller than your +beautiful mother. But it was the little Natalushka I was thinking about +for many a year. Good-night, wicked little one, with your secrets!" + +He kissed her hand, bowed once more to the little Polish lady, and left. + +When, after considerable difficulty--for he was exceedingly +near-sighted--he made out the number in Oxford Street, he found another +caller just leaving. This stranger glanced at him, and instantly said, +in a low voice, + +"The night is dark, brother." + +Calabressa started; but the other gave one or two signs that reassured +him. + +"I knew you were in London, signore, and I recognized you; we have your +photograph in Lisle Street. My name is Reitzei--" + +"Ah!" Calabressa exclaimed, with a new interest, as he looked at the +pallid-faced young man. + +"And if you wish to see Beratinsky, I will take you to him. I find he +is at the Culturverein: I was going there myself." So Calabressa +suffered himself to be led away. + +At this time the Culturverein used to meet in a large hall in a narrow +lane off Oxford Street. It was an association of persons, mostly +Germans, connected in some way or other with art, music, or letters--a +merry-hearted, free-and-easy little band of people, who met every +evening to laugh and talk and joke and generally forget the world and +all its cares. The evening usually began with Bavarian beer, sonatas, +and comic lectures; then Rhine wines began to appear, and of course +these brought with them songs of love, and friendship, and patriotism; +occasionally, when the older and wiser folk had gone, sweet champagne +and a wild frolic prevailed until daylight came to drive the revellers +out. Beratinsky belonged to the Verein by reason of his having at one +time betaken himself to water-color drawing, in order to keep himself +alive. + +When Calabressa entered the large, long hall, the walls of which were +plentifully hung with sketches in color and cartoons in black and white, +the _fertig_!--_los_! period had not arrived. On the contrary, the +meeting was exceedingly demure, almost dull; for a German music +professor, seated at the piano on the platform, was playing one of his +own compositions, which, however beautiful, was of considerable length; +and his audience had relapsed into half-hushed conversation over their +light cigars and tall glasses of Bairisch. + +Beratinsky had to come along to the entrance-hall to enter the names of +his visitors in a book. He was a little man, somewhat corpulent, with +bushy black eyebrows, intensely black eyes, and black closely-cropped +beard. The head was rather handsome; the figure not. + +"Ah, Calabressa, you have come alive again!" he said, speaking in pretty +fair Italian. "We heard you were in London. What is it?" + +The last phrase was uttered in a low voice, though there was no +by-stander. But Calabressa, with a lofty gesture, replied, + +"My friend, we are not always on commissions. Sometimes we have a little +liberty--a little money--a notion in our head. And if one cannot exactly +travel _en prince_, _n'importe!_ we have our little excursion. And if +one has one's sweetheart to see? Do you know, friend Beratinsky, that I +have been dining with Natalie--the little Natalushka, as, she used to be +called?" + +Beratinsky glanced quickly at him with the black, piercing eyes. + +"Ah, the beautiful child! the beautiful child!" Calabressa exclaimed, +as if he was addressing some one not present. "The mouth sweet, +pathetic, like that in Titian's Assumption: you have seen the picture in +the Venice Academy? But she is darker than Titian's Virgin; she is of +the black, handsome Magyar breed, like her mother. You never saw her +mother, Beratinsky?" + +"No," said the other, rather surlily. "Come, sit down and have a cigar." + +"A cigarette--a cigarette and a little cognac, if you please," said +Calabressa, when the three companions had gone along to the middle of +the hall and taken their seats. "Ah, it was such a surprise to me: the +sight of her grown to be a woman, and the perfect, beautiful image of +her mother--the very voice too--I could have thought it was a dream." + +"Did you come here to talk of nothing but Lind's daughter?" said +Beratinsky, with scant courtesy. + +"Precisely," remarked Calabressa, in absolute good-humor. "But before +that a word." + +He glanced round this assemblage of foreign-looking persons, no doubt +guessing at the various nationalities indicated by physique and +complexion--Prussian, Pole, Rhinelander, Swiss, and what not. If the +company, in English eyes, might have looked Bohemian--that is to say, +unconventional in manner and costume--the Bohemianism, at all events, +was of a well-to-do, cheerful, good-humored character. There was a good +deal of talking besides the music. + +"These gentlemen," said Calabressa, in a low voice, "are they +friends--are they with us?" + +"Only one or two," said Beratinsky. + +"You do not come here to proselytize, then?" + +"One must amuse one's self sometimes," said the little, fat, +black-haired Pole, somewhat gruffly. + +"Then one must take care what one says!" + +"I presume that is generally the case, friend Calabressa." + +But Calabressa was not offended. He was interested in what was going on. + +"Par exemple," he said, in his airy way, "que vient faire la le drole?" + +The music had come to an end, and the spectacled professor had retired +amidst a thunder of applause. His successor, who had attracted +Calabressa's attention, was a gentleman who had mounted on a high easel +an immense portfolio of cartoons roughly executed in crayon; and as he +exhibited them one by one, he pointed out their characteristics with a +long stick, after the manner of a showman. His demeanor was serious; his +face was grave; his tone was simple and business-like. But as he +unfolded these rude drawings, Calabressa, who understood but little +German, was more and more astonished to find the guttural laughter +around him increase and increase until the whole place resounded with +roars, while some of the old Herren held their sides in pain, as the +tears of the gigantic mirth streamed down their cheeks. Those who were +able hammered loud applause on the table before them; others rolled in +their chairs; many could only lie back and send their merriment up to +the reverberating roof in shrill shrieks and yells. + +"In the name of Heaven, what is it all about?" said Calabressa. "Have +the people gone mad?" + +"Illustrations of German proverbs," said Beratinsky, who, despite his +surly manner, was himself forced to smile. + +Well, Calabressa had indeed come here to talk about Lind's daughter; but +it was impossible, amidst this wild surging to and fro of Olympian +laughter. At last, however, the showman came to an end of his cartoons, +and solemnly made his bow, and amidst tumultuous cheering resumed his +place among his companions. + +There was a pause, given over to chatter and joking, and Calabressa +quickly embraced this opportunity. + +"You are a friend of the little Natalushka--of the beautiful Natalie, I +should say, perhaps?" + +"Lind's daughter does not choose to have many friends," said Beratinsky, +curtly. + +This was not promising; and, indeed, the corpulent little Pole showed +great disinclination to talk about the young lady who had so laid hold +of Calabressa's heart. But Calabressa was not to be denied, when it was +the welfare of the daughter of Natalie Berezolyi that was concerned. + +"Yes, yes, friend Beratinsky, of course she is very much alone. It is +rather a sad thing for a young girl to be so much alone." + +"And if she chooses to be alone?" said Beratinsky, with a sharpness that +resembled the snarl of a terrier. + +Perhaps it was to get rid of the topic that Beratinsky here joined in a +clamorous call for "Nageli! Nageli!" Presently a fresh-colored young +Switzer, laughing and blushing tremendously, went up to the platform and +took his seat at the piano, and struck a few noisy chords. It was a +Tyrolese song he sung, with a jodel refrain of his own invention: + + "Hat einer ein Schatzerl, + So bleibt er dabei, + Er nimmt sie zum Weiberl, + Und liebt sie recht treu. + Dann fangt man die Wirthschaft + Gemeinschaftlich an, + Und liebt sich, und herzt sich + So sehr als man kann!" + +Great cheering followed the skilfully executed jodel. In the midst of +it, one of the members rose and said, in German, + +"Meine Herren! You know our good friend Nageli is going to leave us; +perhaps we shall not see him again for many years. I challenge you to +drink this toast: 'Nageli, and his quick return!' I say to him what some +of the shopkeepers in our Father-land say to their customers, 'Kommen +Sie bald wieder!'" + +Here there was a great shouting of "Nageli! Nageli!" until one started +the chorus, which was immediately and sonorously sung by the whole +assemblage, + + "Hoch soll er leben! + Hoch soll er leben! + Dreimal hoch!" + +Another pause, chiefly devoted to the ordering of Hochheimer and the +lighting of fresh cigars. The souls of the sons of the Father-land were +beginning to warm. + +"Friend Beratinsky," said the anxious-hearted albino, "perhaps you know +that many years ago I knew the mother of Natalie Lind; she was a +neighbor--a companion--of mine: and I am interested in the little one. A +young girl sometimes has need of friends. Now, you are in a position--" + +"Friend Calabressa, you may save your breath," said the other, coldly. +"The young lady might have had my friendship if she had chosen. She did +not choose. I suppose she is old enough--and proud enough--to choose her +own friends. Yes, yes, friend Calabressa, I have heard. But we will say +nothing more: now listen to this comical fellow." + +Calabressa was not thinking of the young Englishman who now sat down at +the piano; a strange suspicion was beginning to fill his mind. Was it +possible, he began inwardly to ask, that Vincent Beratinsky had himself +aspired to marry the beautiful Hungarian girl? + +This good-looking young English fellow, with a gravity equal to that of +the sham showman, explained to his audience that he was composing an +operetta, of which he would give them a few passages. He was a skilful +pianist. He explained, as his fingers ran up and down the keys, that the +scene was in Ratcliffe Highway. A tavern: a hornpipe. Jack ashore. +Unseemly squabbles: here there were harsh discords and shrill screams. +Drunkenness: the music getting very helpless. Then the daylight +comes--the chirping of sparrows--Jack wanders out--the breath of the +morning stirs his memories--he thinks of other days. Then comes in +Jack's song, which neither Calabressa nor any one else present could say +was meant to be comic, or pathetic, or a demoniac mixture of both. The +accompaniment which the handsome young English fellow played was at once +rhythmical, and low and sad, like the wash of waves: + + "Oh, the days were long, + And the summers were long, + When Jane and I went courtin'; + The hills were blue beyond the sky; + The heather was soft where we did lie; + We kissed our fill, did Jane and I, + When Jane and I went courtin'. + + "When Jane and I went courtin', + Oh, the days were long, + And the summers were long! + We walked by night beyond the quay; + Above, the stars; below, the sea; + And I kissed Jane, and Jane kissed me, + When Jane and I went courtin'. + + "But Jane she married the sodger-chap; + An end to me and my courtin'. + And I took ship, and here I am; + And where I go, I care not a damn-- + Rio, Jamaica, Seringapatam-- + Good-bye to Jane and the courtin'." + +This second professor of gravity was abundantly cheered too when he rose +from the piano; for the music was quaint and original with a sort of +unholy, grotesque pathos running through it. Calabressa resumed: + +"My good Beratinsky, what is it that you have heard?" + +"No matter. Natalie Lind has no need of your good offices, Calabressa. +She can make friends for herself, and quickly enough, too." + +Calabressa's eyes were not keen, but his ears were; he detected easily +the personal rancor in the man's tone. + +"You are speaking of some one: the Englishman?" + +Beratinsky burst out laughing. + +"Listen, Reitzei! Even my good friend Calabressa perceives. He, too, +has encountered the Englishman. Oh yes, we must all give way to him, +else he will stamp on our toes with his thick English boots. You, +Reitzei: how long is he to allow you to retain your office?" + +"Better for him if he does not interfere with me," said the younger man. +"I was always against the English being allowed to become officers. They +are too arrogant; they want everything under their direction. Take their +money, but keep them outside: that would have been my rule." + +"And this Englishman," said Beratinsky, with a smile, though there was +the light of malice in his eye, "this Englishman is not content with +wanting to have the mastery of poor devils like you and me; he also +wishes to marry the beautiful Natalie--the beautiful Natalie, who has +hitherto been as proud as the Princess Brunhilda. Now, now, friend +Calabressa, do not protest. Every one has ears, has eyes. And when papa +Lind comes home--when he finds that this Englishman has been making a +fool of him, and professing great zeal when he was only trying to steal +away the daughter--what then, friend Calabressa?" + +"A girl must marry," said Calabressa. + +"I thought she was too proud to think of such things," said the other, +scornfully. "However, I entreat you to say no more. What concern have I +with Natalie Lind? I tell you, let her make more new friends." + +Calabressa sat silent, his heart as heavy as lead. He had come with some +notion that he would secure one other--powerful, and in all of Lind's +secrets--on whom Natalie could rely, should any emergency occur in which +she needed help. But these jealous and envious taunts, these malignant +prophecies, only too clearly showed him in what relation Vincent +Beratinsky stood with regard to the daughter of Natalie Berezolyi and +the Englishman, her lover. + +Calabressa sat silent. When some one began to play the zither, he was +thinking not of the Culturverein in London, but of the dark pine woods +above the Erlau, and of the house there, and of Natalie Berezolyi as she +played in the evening. He would ask Natalushka if she, too, played the +zither. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +FIDELIO. + + +George Brand walked away from the house in Curzon Street in a sort of +bewilderment of hope and happiness and gratitude. He would even try to +accept Calabressa's well-meant counsel: why should he not be friends +with everybody? The world had grown very beautiful; there was to be no +more quarrelling in it, or envy, or malice. + +In the dark he almost ran against a ragged little child who was selling +flowers. + +"Will you buy a rose-bud, sir?" said she. + +"What?" he said, severely, "selling flowers at this time of night? Get +away home with you and get your supper, and go to bed;" but he spoiled +the effect of his sharp admonition by giving the girl all the silver he +had in his pocket. + +He found the little dinner-party in a most loquacious mood. O'Halloran +in especial was in full swing. The internal economy of England was to be +readjusted. The capital must be transferred to the centre of the real +wealth and brain-power of the country--that is to say, somewhere about +Leeds or Manchester. This proposition greatly pleased Humphreys, the man +from the North, who was quite willing to let the Royal Academy, the +South Kensington and National Galleries, and the British Museum remain +in London, so long as the seat of government was transferred to +Huddersfield or thereabouts. But O'Halloran drew such a harrowing +picture of the effect produced on the South of England intellect by its +notorious and intense devotion to the arts, that Humphreys was almost +convicted of cruelty. + +However, if these graceless people thought to humbug the hard-headed man +from the North, he succeeded on one occasion in completely silencing his +chief enemy, O'Halloran. That lover of paradox and idle speculation was +tracing the decline of superstition to the introduction of the use of +steam, and was showing how, wherever railways went in India, ghosts +disappeared; whereupon the Darlington man calmly retorted that, as far +as he could see, the railways in this country were engaged in making as +many ghosts as they could possibly disperse in India. This flank attack +completely surprised and silenced the light skirmisher, who sought +safety in lighting another cigar. + +More serious matters, however, were also talked about, and Humphreys +was eager that Brand should go down to Wolverhampton with him next +morning. Brand pleaded but for one day's delay. Humphreys reminded him +that certain members of the Political Committee of the Trades-union +Congress would be at Wolverhampton, and that he had promised to see +them. After that, silence. + +At last, as Humphreys and O'Halloran were leaving, Brand said, with an +effort, + +"No, it is no use, Humphreys. I _must_ remain in London one more day. +You go down to-morrow; I shall come by the first train next morning. +Molyneux and the others won't be leaving for some days." + +"Very well, sir; good-night, sir." + +Brand returned into the room, and threw himself into an easy-chair; his +only companion now was his old friend Evelyn. + +The younger man regarded him. + +"I can tell the whole story, Brand; I have been reading it in your face. +You were troubled and perplexed before you got that letter. It gave some +hope. Off you went to see Natalie; you came back with something in your +manner that told me you had seen her and had been received favorably. +Now it is only one more day of happiness you hunger for, before going up +to the hard work of the North. Well, I don't wonder. But, at the same +time, you look a little too restless and anxious for a man who has just +won such a beautiful sweetheart." + +"I am not so lucky as that, Evelyn," said he, absently. + +"What, you did not see her?" + +"Oh yes, I saw her; and I hope. But of course one craves for some full +assurance when such a prize is within reach; and--and I suppose one's +nerves are a little excited, so that you imagine possibilities and +dangers--" + +He rose, and took a turn up and down the room. + +"It is the old story, Evelyn. I distrust Lind." + +"What has that to do with it?" + +"As you say, what has that to do with it? If I had Natalie's full +promise, I should care for nothing. She is a woman; she is not a school +girl, to be frightened. If I had only that, I should start off for the +North with a light heart." + +"Why not secure it, then?" + +"Perhaps it is scarcely fair to force myself on her at present until her +father returns. Then she will be more her own mistress. But the doubt--I +don't know when I may be back from the North--" At last he stopped +short. "Yes, I will see her to-morrow at all hazards." + +By-and-by he began to tell his friend of the gay-hearted old albino he +had encountered at Lind's house; though in the mean time he reserved to +himself the secret of Natalie's mother being alive. + +"Lind must have an extraordinary faculty," he said at length, "of +inspiring fear, and of getting people to obey him." + +"He does not look a ferocious person," Lord Evelyn said, with a smile. +"I have always found him very courteous and pleasant--frank, amiable, +and all the rest of it." + +"And yet here is this man Calabressa, an old friend of his; and he talks +of Lind with a sort of mysterious awe. He is not a man whom you must +think of thwarting. He is the Invulnerable, the Implacable. The fact is, +I was inclined to laugh at my good friend Calabressa; but all the same, +it was quite apparent that the effect Lind had produced on his mind was +real enough." + +"Well, you know," said Lord Evelyn, "Lind has a great organization to +control, and he must be a strict disciplinarian. It is the object of his +life; everything else is of minor importance. Even you confess that you +admire his tremendous power of work." + +"Yes, I do. I admire his administrative capacity; it is wonderful. But I +don't believe for a moment that it was his mind that projected this big +scheme. That must have been the work of an idealist, perhaps of a dozen +of them, all adding and helping. I think he almost said as much to me +one night. His business is to keep the machinery in working order, and +he does it to perfection." + +"There is one thing about him: he never forgets, and he never forgives. +You remember the story of Count Verdt?" + +"I have cause to remember it. I thought for a moment the wretch had +committed suicide because I caught him cheating." + +"I have been told that Lind played with that fellow like a cat with a +mouse. Verdt got hints from time to time that his punishment as a +traitor was overtaking him; and yet he was allowed to live on in +constant fear. And it was the Camorra, and not Lind, or any of Lind's +friends, who finished him after all." + +"Well, that was implacable enough, to be sure; to have death dogging the +poor wretch's heels, and yet refusing to strike." + +"For myself, I don't pity him much," said Lord Evelyn, as he rose and +buttoned his coat. "He was a fool to think he could play such a trick +and escape the consequences. Now, Brand, how am I to hear from you +to-morrow? You know I am in a measure responsible." + +"However it ends, I am grateful to you, Evelyn; you may be sure of that. +I will write to you from Wolverhampton, and let you know the worst, or +the best." + +"The best, then: we will have no worsts." + +He said good-bye, and went whistling cheerfully down the narrow oak +staircase. He at least was not very apprehensive about the results of +the next day's interview. + +But how brief was this one day, with its rapidly passing opportunities; +and then the stern necessity for departure and absence. He spent half +the night in devising how best he could get speech of her, in a +roundabout fashion, without the dread of the interference of friends. +And at last he hit upon a plan which might not answer; but he could +think of nothing else. + +He went in the morning and secured a box at Covent Garden for that +evening. Then he called at Lisle Street, and got Calabressa's address. +He found Calabressa in his lodgings, shivering and miserable, for the +day was wet, misty, and cold. + +"You can escape from the gloom of our climate, Signor Calabressa," said +he. "What do you say to going to the opera to-night?" + +"Your opera?" said he, with a gesture indicative of still deeper +despair. "You forget I come from the home, the nursery of opera." + +"Yes," said Brand, good-naturedly. "Great singers train in your country, +but they sing here: that is the difference. Do not be afraid; you will +not be disappointed. See, I have brought you a box; and if you want +companions, why not ask Miss Lind and Madame Potecki to go with you and +show you the ways of our English opera-houses?" + +"Ah, the little Natalushka!" said Calabressa, eagerly. "Will she go? Do +you think she will go? _Ma foi_, it is not often I have the chance of +taking such a beautiful creature to the opera, if she will go! What must +I do?" + +"You will have to go and beg her to be kind to you. Say you have the +box--you need not mention how: ask if she will escort you, she and +Madame Potecki. Say it is a kindness: she cannot help doing a kindness." + +"There you are right, monsieur: do not I see it in her eyes? can I not +hear it in her voice?" + +"Well, that you must do at once, before she goes out for her walk at +noon." + +"To go out walking on a day like this?" + +"She will go out, nevertheless; and you must go and intercept her, and +pray her to do you this kindness." + +"_Apres?_" + +"You must come to me again, and we will get an English evening costume +for you somehow. Then, two bouquets; I will get those for you, and send +them to them to the box to await you." + +"But you yourself, monsieur; will you not be of the party?" + +"Perhaps you had better say nothing about me, signore; for one is so +busy nowadays. But if I come into the stalls; if I see you and the +ladies in the box, then I shall permit myself to call upon you; do you +understand?" + +"Parfaitement," said Calabressa, gravely. Then he laughed slightly. "Ah, +monsieur, you English are not good diplomatists. I perceive that you +wish to say more; that you are afraid to say more; that you are anxious +and a little bit demure, like a girl. What you wish is this, is it not: +if I say to Madame Potecki, 'Madame, I am a stranger; will you show me +the promenade, that I may behold the costumes of the beautiful English +ladies?' madame answers, 'Willingly.' We go to see the costumes of the +beautiful English ladies. Why should you come? You would not leave the +young lady all alone in the box?" + +"Calabressa," he said, frankly, "I am going away to-morrow morning: do +you understand that?" + +Calabressa bowed gravely. + +"To comprehend that is easy. Allons, let us play out the little plot for +the amusement of that rogue of a Natalushka. And if she does not thank +me--eh bien! perhaps her papa will: who knows?" + +Before the overture began that evening, Brand was in his seat in the +stalls; and he had scarcely sat down when he knew, rather than saw, that +certain figures were coming into the box which he had been covertly +watching. The opera was _Fidelio_--that beautiful story of a wife's +devotion and courage, and reward. As he sat and listened, he knew she +was listening too; and he could almost have believed it was her own +voice that was pleading so eloquently with the jailer to let the poor +prisoner see the light of day for a few minutes in the garden. Would not +that have been her prayer, too, in similar circumstances? Then Leonora, +disguised as a youth, is forced to assist in the digging of her own +husband's grave, Pizarro enters; the unhappy prisoners are driven back +to their cells and chains, and Leonora can only call down the vengeance +of Heaven on the head of the tyrant. + +At the end of the act Brand went up to the box and tapped outside. It +was opened from within, and he entered. Natalie turned to receive him; +she was a little pale, he thought; he took a seat immediately behind +her; and there was some general talk until the opening of the second act +restored silence. + +For him it was a strange silence, that the music outside did not +disturb. Sitting behind her, he could study the beautiful profile and +the outward curve of her dark eyelashes; he could see where here and +there a delicate curl of the raven-black hair, escaping from the mob-cap +of rose-red silk, lay about the small ear or wandered down to the +shapely white neck; he could almost, despite the music, fancy he heard +her breathe, as the black gossamer and scarlet flowers of an Indian +shawl stirred over the shining satin dress. Her fan and handkerchief +were perfumed with white-rose. + +And to-morrow he would be in Wolverhampton, amidst grimy streets and +dirty houses, in a leaden-hued atmosphere laden with damp and the fumes +of chimneys, practically alone, with days of monotonous work before him, +and solitary evenings to be spent in cheerless inns. What wonder if this +seemed some brief vision of paradise--the golden light and glowing +color, the soft strains of music, the scent of white-rose? + +Doubtless Natalie had seen this opera of Fidelio many a time before; but +she was always intently interested in music; and she had more than once +expressed in Brand's hearing her opinion of the conduct of the ladies +and gentlemen who make an opera, or a concert, or a play a mere adjunct +to their own foolish laughter and tittle-tattle. She recognized the +serious aims of a great artist; she listened with deep attention and +respect; she could talk idly elsewhere and at other times. And so there +was scarcely a word said--except of involuntary admiration--as the opera +proceeded. But in the scene where the disguised wife discovers her +husband in the prison--where, as Pizarro is about to stab him, she +flings herself between them to protect him--Brand could see that Natalie +Lind was fast losing her manner of calm and critical attention, and +yielding to a profounder emotion. When Leonora reveals herself to her +husband, and swears that she will save him, even such a juncture, from +his vindictive enemy-- + + "Si, si, mio dolce amico, + La tua Eleonora ti salvera; + Affronto il suo furor!" + +the girl gave a slight convulsive sob, and her hands were involuntarily +clasped. Then, as every one knows, Leonora draws a pistol from her bosom +and confronts the tyrant; a trumpet is heard in the distance; relief is +near; and the act winds up with the joyful duet between the released +husband and the courageous wife--"_Destin, destin ormai felice!_" + +Here it was that Calabressa proposed he should escort Madame Potecki to +the cooler air of the large saloon; and madame, who had been young +herself, and guessed that the lovers might like to be alone for a few +minutes, instantly and graciously acquiesced. But Natalie rose also, a +little quickly, and said that Madame Potecki and herself would be glad +to have some coffee; and could that be got in the saloon? + +Madame Potecki and her companion led the way; but then Brand put his +hand on the arm of Natalie and detained her. + +"Natalie!" he said, in a low and hurried voice, "I am going away +to-morrow. I don't know when I shall see you again. Surely you will give +me some assurance--some promise, something I can repeat to myself. +Natalie, I know the value of what I am asking; you will give yourself to +me?" + +She stood by the half-shut door, pale, irresolute, and yet outwardly +calm. Her eyes were cast down; she held her fan firmly with both hands. + +"Natalie, are you afraid to answer?" + +Then the young Hungarian girl raised her eyes, and bravely regarded him, +though her face was still pale and apprehensive. + +"No," she said, in a low voice. "But how can I answer you more than +this--that if I am not to give myself to you I will give myself to no +other? I will be your wife, or the wife of no one. Dear friend, I can +say no more." + +"It is enough." + +She went quickly to the front of the box; in both bouquets there were +forget-me-nots. She hurriedly selected some, and returned and gave them +to him. + +"Whatever happens, you will remember that there was one who at least +wished to be worthy of your love." + +Then they followed their friends into the saloon, and sat down at a +small table, though Natalie's hands were trembling so that she could +scarcely undo her gloves. And George Brand said nothing; but once or +twice he looked into his wife's eyes. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +FATHER AND DAUGHTER. + + +When Ferdinand Lind told Calabressa that Natalie had grown to be a +woman, he no doubt meant what he said; but he himself had not the least +notion what the phrase implied. He could see, of course, that she had +now a woman's years, stature, self-possession; but, for all that, she +was still to him only a child--only the dark-eyed, gentle, obedient +little Natalushka, who used to be so proud when she was praised for her +music, and whose only show of resolution was when she set to work on the +grammar of a new language. Indeed, it is the commonest thing in the +world for a son, or a daughter, or a friend to grow in years without +those nearest them being aware of the fact, until some chance +circumstance, some crisis, causes a revelation, and we are astounded at +the change that time has insidiously made. + +Such a discovery was now about to confront Ferdinand Lind. He was to +learn not only that his daughter had left the days of her childhood +behind her, but also that the womanhood to which she had attained was of +a fine and firm character, a womanhood that rung true when tried. And +this is how the discovery was forced on him: + +On his arrival in London, Mr. Lind drove first to Lisle Street, to pick +up letters on his way home. Beratinsky had little news about business +matters to impart; but, instead, he began--as Lind was looking at some +of the envelopes--to drop hints about Brand. It was easy to see now, he +said, why the rich Englishman was so eager to join them, and give up his +life in that way. It was not for nothing. Mr. Lind would doubtless hear +more at home; and so forth. + +Mr. Lind was thinking of other things; but when he came to understand +what these innuendoes meant, he was neither angry nor impatient. He had +much toleration for human weakness, and he took it that Beratinsky was +only a little off his head with jealousy. He was aware that it had been +Beratinsky's ambition to become his son-in-law: a project that swiftly +came to an end through the perfect unanimity of father and daughter on +that point. + +"You are a fool, Beratinsky," he said, as he tied the bundle of letters +together. "At your time of life you should not imagine that every one's +head is full of philandering nonsense. Mr. Brand has something else to +think of; besides, he has been in the midland counties all this time." + +"Has he? Who, then, was taking your daughter to dinner-parties, to +theatres--I don't know what?" + +Lind dealt gently with this madness. + +"Who told you?" + +"I have eyes and ears." + +"Put them to a better use, Beratinsky." + +Then he left, and the hansom carried him along to Curzon Street. Natalie +herself flew to the door when she heard the cab drive up: there she was +to receive him, smiling a welcome, and so like her mother that he was +almost startled. She caught his face in her two hands and kissed him. + +"Ah, why did you not let me come to meet you at Liverpool?" + +"There were too many with me, Natalie. I was busy. Now get Anneli to +open my portmanteau, and you can find out for yourself all the things I +have brought for you." + +"I do not care for them, papa; I like to have you yourself back." + +"I suppose you were rather dull, Natalushka, being all by yourself?" + +"Sometimes. But I will tell you all that has happened when you are +having breakfast." + +"I have had breakfast, child. Now I shall get through my letters, and +you can tell me all that has happened afterward." + +This was equivalent to a dismissal; so Natalie went up-stairs, leaving +her father to go into the small study, where lay another bundle of +letters for him. + +Almost the first that he opened was from George Brand; and to his +amazement he found, not details about progress in the North, but a +simple, straightforward, respectful demand to be permitted to claim the +hand of Natalie in marriage. He did not conceal the fact that this +proposal had already been made to Natalie herself; he ventured to hope +that it was not distasteful to her; he would also hope that her father +had no objections to urge. It was surely better that the future of a +young girl in her position should be provided for. As regarded by +himself, Mr. Lind's acquaintance with him was no doubt but recent and +comparatively slight; but if he wished any further and natural inquiry +into the character of the man to whom he was asked to intrust his +daughter, Lord Evelyn might be consulted as his closest friend. And a +speedy answer was requested. + +This letter was, on the whole, rather a calm and business-like +performance. Brand could appeal to Natalie, and that earnestly and +honestly enough; he felt he could not bring himself to make any such +appeal to her father. Indeed, any third person reading this letter would +have taken it to be more of the nature of a formal demand, or something +required by the conventionalities; a request the answer to which was not +of tremendous importance, seeing that the two persons most interested +had already come to an understanding. + +But Mr. Lind did not look at it in that light at all. He was at first +surprised; then vexed and impatient, rather than angry; then determined +to put an end to this nonsense at once. If he had deemed the matter more +serious, he would have sat down and considered it with his customary +fore thought; but he was merely irritated. + +"Beratinsky was not so mad as I took him to be, after all," he said to +himself. "Fortunately, the affair has not gone too far." + +He carried the open letter up-stairs, and found Natalie in the +drawing-room, dusting some pieces of Venetian glass. + +"Natalie," he said, with an abruptness that startled her, and in a tone +of anger which was just a little bit affected--"Natalie, what is the +meaning of this folly?" + +She turned and regarded him. He held the open letter in his hand. She +said, calmly, + +"I do not understand you." + +This only vexed him the more. + +"I ask you what you have been doing in my absence?" he said, angrily. +"What have you been doing to entitle any man to write me such a letter +as this? His affection! your future!--has he not something else to think +of? And you--you seem not to have been quite so dull when I was away, +after all! Well, it is time to have an end of it. Whatever nonsense may +have been going on, I hope you have both of you come to your senses. Let +me hear no more of it!" + +Now she saw clearly what the letter must contain--what had stirred her +father to such an unusual exhibition of wrath. She was a little pale, +but not afraid. There was no tremor in her voice as she spoke. + +"I am sorry, papa, you should speak to me like that. I think you forget +that I am no longer a child. I have done nothing that I am ashamed of; +and if Mr. Brand has written to you, I am willing to share the +responsibility of anything he says. You must remember, papa, that I am a +woman, and that I ought to have a voice in anything that concerns my own +happiness." + +He looked at her almost with wonder, as if he did not quite recognize +her. Was this the gentle-natured little Natalushka, whose eyes would +fill with tears if she was scolded even in fun?--this tall, +self-possessed girl with the pale face, and the firm and even tones? + +"Do you mean to tell me, Natalie, that it is with your consent Brand has +written to me?" her father asked, with frowning brows. + +"I did not know he would write. I expected he would." + +"Perhaps," said he, with an ironical smile, "perhaps you have taken time +by the forelock, and already promised to be his wife?" + +The answer was given with the same proud composure. + +"I have not. But I have promised, if I am not his wife, never to be the +wife of any other man." + +It was now that Lind began to perceive how serious this matter was. This +was no school-girl, to be frightened out of a passing fancy. He must +appeal to the reason of a woman; and the truth is, that if he had known +he had this to undertake, he would not so hastily have gone into that +drawing-room with the open letter in his hand. + +"Sit down Natalie," he said, quite gently. "I want to talk to you. I +spoke hastily; I was surprised and angry. Now let us see calmly how +matters stand; I dare say no great harm has been done yet." + +She took a seat opposite him; there was not the least sign of any +girlish breaking down, even when he spoke to her in this kind way. + +"I have no doubt you acted quite rightly and prudently when I was away; +and as for Mr. Brand, well, any one can see that you have grown to be a +good-looking young woman, and of course he would like to have a +good-looking young wife to show off among the country people, and to go +riding to hounds with him. Let us see what is involved in your becoming +his wife, supposing that were ever seriously to be thought of. You give +up all your old sympathies and friends, your interest in the work we +have on hand, and you get transferred to a Buckinghamshire country-house +to take the place of the old house-keeper. If you do not hear anything +of what is going on--of our struggles--of your friends all over +Europe--what of that? You will have the kitchen-garden to look after, +and poultry to feed; and your neighbors will talk to you at dinner about +foxes and dogs and horses and the clergyman's charities. It will be a +healthy life, Natalie: perhaps you will get stout and rosy, like an +English matron. But your old friends--you will have forgotten them." + +"Never!--never!" she said, vehemently; and, despite herself, her eyes +filled with tears. + +"Then we will take Mr. Brand. The Buckinghamshire house is open again. +An Englishman's house is his castle; there is a great deal of work in +superintending it, its entertainments, its dependents. Perhaps he has a +pack of foxhounds; no doubt he is a justice of the peace, and the terror +of poachers. But in the midst of all this hunting, and giving of +dinner-parties, and shooting of pheasants, do you think he has much time +or thought for the future of the millions of poor wretches all over +Europe who once claimed his care? Not much! That was in his days of +irresponsible bachelorhood. Now he is settled down--he is a country +gentleman. The world can set itself right without him. He is anxious +about the price of wheat." + +"Ah, how you mistake him, papa!" said she, proudly. And there was a +proud light on her face too as she rose and quickly went to a small +escritoire close by. A few seconds sufficed her to write a short note, +which she brought back to her father. + +"There," said she, "I will abide by that test. If he says 'yes,' I will +never see him again--never speak one word to him again." + +Her father took the note and read it. It was as follows: + +"My Dear Friend,--I am anxious about the future for both of us. If you +will promise me, now and at once, to give up the work you are engaged +in, I will be your wife, when and where you will. + + NATALIE." + +"Send it!" she said, proudly. "I am not afraid. If he says 'yes,' I will +never see him again." + +The challenge was not accepted. He tore the note in two and flung it +into the grate. + +"It is time to put an end to this folly," he said impatiently. "I have +shown you what persistence in it would bring on yourself. You would be +estranged from everything and every one you have hitherto been +interested in; you would have to begin a new life, for which you are not +fitted; you would be the means of doing our cause an irreparable injury. +Yes, I say so frankly. The withdrawal of this man Brand, which would +certainly follow, sooner or later, on his marriage, would be a great +blow to us. We have need of his work; we have still more need of his +money. And it is you, you of all people in the world, who would be the +means of taking him away from us!" + +"But it is not so, papa," she said in great distress. "Surely you do not +think that I am begging to be allowed to become his wife? That is for +him to decide; I will follow his wishes as far as I can--as far as you +will allow me, papa. But this I know, that, so far from interfering with +the work he has undertaken, it would only spur him on. Should I have +thought of it otherwise? Ah, surely you know--you have said so to me +yourself--he is not one to go back." + +"He is an Englishman; you do not understand Englishmen," her father +said; and then he added, firmly, "You are not to be deterred by what may +happen to yourself. Well, consider what may happen to him. I tell you I +will not have this risk run. George Brand is too valuable to us. If you +or he persist in this folly, it will be necessary to provide against all +contingencies by procuring his banishment." + +"Banishment!" she exclaimed, with a quick and frightened look. + +"That may not sound much to you," said her father, calmly, "for you have +scarcely what may be called a native country. You have lived anywhere, +everywhere. It is different with an Englishman, who has his birthplace, +his family estate, his friends in England." + +"What do you mean, papa?" said she, in a low voice. She had not been +frightened by the fancy picture he had drawn of her own future, but this +ominous threat about her lover seemed full of menace. + +"I say that, at all hazards," Lind continued, looking at her from under +the bushy eyebrows, "this folly must be brought to an end. It is not +expedient that a marriage between you and Mr. Brand should even be +thought of. You have both got other duties, inexorable duties. It is my +business to see that nothing comes in the way of their fulfilment. Do +you understand?" + +She sat dumb now, with a vague fear about the future of her lover; for +herself she had no fear. + +"Some one must be sent to Philadelphia, to remain there probably for his +lifetime. Do not drive me to send George Brand." + +"Papa!" It was a cry of appeal; but he paid no heed. This matter he was +determined to settle at once. + +"Understand, this idle notion must be dropped; otherwise George Brand +goes to the States forthwith, and remains there. Fortunately, I don't +suppose the matter has gone far enough to cause either of you any deep +misery. This is not what one would call a madly impassioned letter." + +She scarcely perceived the sneer; some great calamity had befallen her, +of which she as yet scarcely knew the extent; she sat mute and +bewildered--too bewildered to ask why all this thing should be. + +"That may not seem much to you," he said, in the same cold, implacable +way. "But banishment for life from his native country, his home, his +friends, is something to an Englishman. And if we are likely to lose his +work in this country through a piece of sentimental folly, we shall take +care not to lose it in America." + +She rose. + +"Is that all, papa?" + +She seemed too stunned to say any more. + +He rose also, and took her hand. + +"It is better to have a clear understanding, Natalie. Some might say +that I object to your marrying because you are a help to me, and your +going away would leave the house empty. Perhaps you may have some kind +friend put that notion into your head. But that is not the reason why I +speak firmly to you, why I show you you must dismiss this fancy of the +moment--if you have entertained it as well as he--as impossible. I have +larger interests at stake; I am bound to sacrifice every personal +feeling to my duty. And I have shown you what would be the certain +result of such a marriage; therefore, I say, such a marriage is not to +be thought of. Come, now, Natalie, you claim to be a woman: be a woman! +Something higher is wanted from you. What would all our friends think of +you if you were to sink into a position like that--the house-keeper of a +country squire?" + +She said nothing; but she went away to her own room and sat down, her +face pale, her heart like lead. And all her thought was of this possible +doom hanging over him if he persisted; and she guessed, knowing +something of him, whether he was likely to be dissuaded by a threat. + +Then, for a second or so, a wild despairing fancy crossed her mind, and +her fingers tightened, and the proud mouth grew firm. If it was through +her that this penalty of banishment overtook him, why should she not do +as others had done? + +But no--that was impossible. She had not the courage to make such an +offer. She could only sit and think; and the picture before her +imagination was that of her lover sailing away from his native land. +She saw the ship getting farther and farther away from English shores, +until it disappeared altogether in a mist of rain--and tears. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +EVASIONS. + + +It was in Manchester, whither he had gone to meet the famous John +Molyneux, that George Brand awoke on this dull and drizzly morning. The +hotel was almost full. He had been sent to the top floor; and now the +outlook from the window was dismal enough--some slated roofs, a red +chimney or two, and farther off the higher floors of a lofty warehouse, +in which the first signs of life were becoming visible. Early as it was, +there was a dull roar of traffic in the distance; occasionally there was +the scream of a railway whistle. + +Neither the morning nor the prospect was conducive to a cheerful view of +life; and perhaps that was why, when he took in his boots and found in +one of them a letter, deposited there by the chamber-maid, which he at +once saw was in Ferdinand Lind's handwriting, that he instantly assumed, +mentally, an attitude of defiance. He did not open the letter just then. +He took time to let his opposition harden. He knew there would be +something or somebody to fight. It was too much to expect that +everything should go smoothly. If there was such a thing as a law of +compensation, that beautiful dream-like evening at the opera--the light, +the color, the softened music; the scent of white-rose; the dark, soft +eyes, and the last pressure of the hand; the forget-me-nots he carried +away with him--would have to be paid for somehow. And he had always +distrusted Ferdinand Lind. His instinct assured him that this letter, +which he had been looking for and yet dreading, contained a distinct +refusal. + +His instinct was completely at fault. The letter was exceedingly kind +and suave. Mr. Lind might try to arouse his daughter from this idle +day-dream by sharp words and an ominous threat; he knew that it was +otherwise he must deal with Mr. George Brand. + + * * * * * + +"My dear Mr. Brand," he wrote, "as you may imagine, your letter has +surprised me not a little, and pleased me too for a father naturally is +proud to see his daughter thought well of; and your proposal is very +flattering; especially, I may add, as you have seen so little of +Natalie. You are very kind--and bold, and unlike English nature--to take +her and family on trust as it were; for are not your countrymen very +particular as to the relatives of those they would marry with? and of +Natalie's relatives and friends how many have you seen? Excuse me if I +do not quite explain myself; for writing in English is not as familiar +to me as to Natalie, who is quite an Englishwoman now. Very well; I +think it is kind of you to think so highly of my daughter as to offer +her to make her your wife, you knowing so little of her. But there you +do not mistake; she is worthy to be the wife of any one. If she ever +marries, I hope she will be as good a wife as she has been a daughter." + +"If she ever marries!" This phrase sounded somewhat ominous; and yet, if +he meant to say "No," why not say it at once? Brand hastily glanced over +the letter, to find something definite; but he found that would not do. +He began again, and read with deliberation. The letter had obviously +been written with care. + +"I have also to thank you, besides, for the very flattering proposal, +for your care to put this matter before me at an early time. Regarding +how little Natalie and you have seen each other, it is impossible that +either her or your affection can be so serious that it is not fair to +look on your proposal with some views as to expediency; and at an early +time one can easily control one's wishes. I can answer for my daughter +that she has always acted as I thought best for her happiness; and I am +sure that now, or at any time, in whatever emergency, she would far +prefer to have the decision rest with me, rather than take the +responsibility on herself." + +When George Brand came to this passage he read it over again; and his +comment was, "My good friend, don't be too sure of that. It is possible +that you have lived nineteen years with your daughter to very little +purpose, so far as your knowledge of her character is concerned." + +"Well, then, my dear sir," the letter proceeded, "all this being in such +a way, might I ask you to reflect again over your proposal, and examine +it from the view of expediency? You and I are not free agents, just to +please ourselves when we like. Perhaps I was wrong in my first objection +to your very flattering proposal; I believed you might, in marrying her, +withdraw from the work we are all engaged in; I feared this as a great +calamity--an injury done to many to gratify the fancy of one. But +Natalie, I will confess, scorned me for that doubt; and, indeed, was so +foolish as to propose a little hoax, to prove to me that, even if she +promised to marry you as a reward, she could not get you to abandon our +cause. 'No, no,' she said; 'that is not to be feared. He is not one to +go back.'" + +When George Brand read these words his breath came and went a little +quickly. She should not find her faith in him misplaced. + +"That is very well, very satisfactory, I said to her. We cannot afford +to lose you, whatever happens. To return; there are more questions of +expediency. For example, how can one tell what may be demanded of one? +Would it be wise for you to be hampered with a wife when you know not +where you may have to go? Again, would not the cares of a household +seriously interfere with your true devotion to your labors? You are so +happily placed! You are free from responsibilities: why increase them? +At present Natalie is in a natural and comfortable position; she has +grown accustomed to it; she is proud to know that she can be of +assistance to us; her life is not an unhappy one. But consider--a young +wife, separated from her husband perhaps by the Atlantic: in a new home, +with new duties; anxious, terrified with apprehensions: surely that is +not the change you would wish to see?" + +For a second Brand was almost frightened by this picture, and a pang of +remorse flashed through his heart. But then his common-sense reasserted +itself. Why the Atlantic? Why should they be separated? Why should she +be terrified with apprehensions? + +"As regards her future," her father continued, "I am not an old man; and +if anything were to happen to me, she has friends. Nor will I say to you +a word about myself, or my claim on her society and help; for parents +have not the right to sacrifice the happiness of their children to their +own convenience; it is so fortunate when they find, however, that there +is no dispositions on the part of the young to break those ties that +have been formed by the companionship of many years. It is this, my dear +friend and colleague, that makes me thank you for having spoken so +early; that I ask you to reconsider, and that I can advise my daughter, +without the fear that I am acting in a tyrannical manner or thwarting +any serious affection on her part. You will perceive I do not dictate. I +ask you to think over whether it is wise for your own happiness--whether +it would improve Natalie's probabilities of happiness--whether it would +interfere in some measure with the work you have undertaken--if you +continue to cherish this fancy, and let it grow on you. Surely it is +better, for a man to have but one purpose in life. Nevertheless, I am +open to conviction. + +"That reminds me that there is another matter on which I should like to +say a few words to you when there is the chance. If there is a break in +the current of your present negotiations, shall you have time to run up +to London? Only this: you will, I trust, not seek to see Natalie, or to +write to her, until we have come to an understanding. Again I thank you +for having spoken to me so early, before any mischief can have been +done. Think over what I have said, my dear friend; and remember, above +all things, where your chief duty lies. + + "Yours sincerely, Ferdinand Lind." + + * * * * * + +He read this letter over two or three times, and the more he read it the +more he was impressed with the vexatious conviction that it would be an +uncommonly difficult thing to answer it. It was so reasonable, so +sensible, so plausible. Then his old suspicions returned. Why was this +man Lind so plausible? If he objected, why did he not say so outright? +All these specious arguments: how was one to turn and twist, evading +some, meeting others; and all the time taking it for granted that the +happiness of two people's lives was to be dependent on such +logic-chopping as could be put down on a sheet of paper? + +Then he grew impatient. He would not answer the letter at all. Lind did +not understand. The matter had got far ahead of this clever +argumentation; he would appeal to Natalie herself; it was her "Yes" or +"No" that would be final; not any contest and balancing of words. There +were others he could recall, of more importance to him. He could almost +hear them now in the trembling, low voice: "_I will be your wife, or the +wife of no one. Dear friend, I can say no more._" And again, when she +gave him the forget-me-nots, "_Whatever happens, you will remember that +there was one who at least wished to be worthy of your love._" He could +remember the proud, brave look; again he felt the trembling of the hand +that timidly sought his for an instant; he could almost scent the +white-rose again, and hear the murmur of the people in the corridor. And +this was the woman, into whose eyes he had looked as if they were the +eyes of his wife, who was to be taken away from him by means of a couple +of sheets of note-paper all covered over with little specious +suggestions. + +He thrust the letter into a pocket, and hurriedly proceeded with his +dressing, for he had a breakfast appointment. Indeed, before he was +ready, the porter came up and said that a gentleman had called for him, +and was waiting for him in the coffee-room. + +"Ask him what he will have for breakfast, and let him go on. I shall be +down presently." + +When Brand did at length go down, he found that his visitor had frankly +accepted this permission, and had before him a large plate of +corned-beef, with a goodly tankard of beer. Mr. John Molyneux, although +he was a great authority among English workmen generally, and especially +among the trades-unionists of the North, had little about him of the +appearance of the sleek-haired demagogue as that person is usually +represented to us. He was a stout, yeoman-looking man, with a frosty-red +face and short silver-white whiskers; he had keen, shrewd blue eyes, and +a hand that gave a firm grip. The fact is, that Molyneux had in early +life been a farmer, and a well-to-do-farmer. But he had got smitten with +the writings of Cobbett, and he began to write too. Then he took to +lecturing--on the land laws, on Robert Owenism, on the Church of +England, but more especially on co-operation. Finding, however, that all +this pamphleteering and lecturing was playing ducks and drakes with his +farming, and being in many respects a shrewd and sensible person, he +resolved on selling out of his farm and investing the proceeds in the +government stock of America, the country of his deepest admiration. In +the end he found that he had about one hundred and fifty pounds a year, +on which he could live very comfortably, while giving up all his time +and attention to his energetic propagandism. This was the person who now +gave Brand a hearty greeting, and then took a long draught at the +tankard of ale. + +"You see, Mr. Brand," said he, looking cautiously around, and then +giving a sly wink. "I thought we might have a chat by ourselves in this +corner." + +Brand nodded; there was no one near them. + +"Now I have been considering about what you told me; and last night I +called on Professor ----, of Owens College, ye know, and I had some +further talk with him. Well, sir, it's a grand scheme--splendid; and I +don't wonder you've made such progress as I hear of. And when all the +lads are going in for it, what would they say if old John Molyneux kept +out, eh?" + +"Why, they would say he had lost some of his old pluck; that's about +what they would say, isn't it?" said Brand; though the fact was that he +was thinking a good deal more about the letter in his pocket. + +"There was one point, though, Mr. Brand, that I did not put before +either Professor ---- or yourself, and it is important. The point is, +dibs." + +"I beg your pardon," said Brand, absently; he was, in truth, recalling +the various phrases and sentences in that letter of Ferdinand Lind. + +"Dibs, sir--dibs," said the farmer-agitator, energetically. "You know +what makes the mare go. And you know these are not the best of times; +and some of the lads will be thinking they pay enough into their own +Union. That's what I want to know, Mr. Brand, before I can advise any +one. You need money; how do you get it? What's the damage on joining, +and after?" + +Brand pulled himself together. + +"Oh, money?" said he. "That need not trouble you. We exact nothing. How +could we ask people to buy a pig in a poke? There's not a working-man in +the country but would put us down as having invented an ingenious scheme +for living on other people's earnings. It is not money we want; it is +men." + +"Yes, yes," said Molyneux, looking rather puzzled. "But when you've got +the machine, you want oil, eh? The basis of everything, sir, is dibs: +what can ye do without it?" + +"We want money, certainly," Brand said. "But we do not touch a farthing +that is not volunteered. There are no compulsory subscriptions. We take +it that the more a man sees of what we are doing, and of what has to be +done, the more he will be willing to give according to his means; and so +far there has been no disappointment." + +"H'm!" said Molyneux, doubtfully. "I reckon you won't get much from our +chaps." + +"You don't know. It is wonderful what a touch of enthusiasm will do--and +emulation between the local centers. Besides, we are always having +accessions of richer folk, and these are expected to make up all +deficiencies." + +"Ah!" said the other. "I see more daylight that way. Now you, Mr. Brand, +must have been a good fat prize for them, eh?" + +The shrewd inquiring glance that accompanied this remark set George +Brand laughing. + +"I see, Mr. Molyneux, you want to get at the 'dibs' of everything. +Well, I can't enlighten you any further until you join us: you have not +said whether you will or not." + +"I will!" said the other, bringing his fist down on the table, though he +still spoke in a loud whisper. "I'm your man! In for a penny, in for a +pound!" + +"I beg your pardon," said Brand, politely, "but you are in for neither, +unless you like. You may be in for a good deal of work, though. You must +bring us men, and you will be let off both the penny and the pound. Now, +could you run up with me to London to-night, and be admitted to-morrow, +and get to know something of what we are doing?" + +"Is it necessary?" + +"In your case, yes. We want to make you a person of importance." + +So at last Molyneux agreed, and they started for London in the evening; +the big, shrew, farmer-looking man being as pleased as a child to have +certain signs and passwords confided to him. Brand made light of these +things--and, in fact, they were only such as were used among the +outsiders; but Molyneux was keenly interested, and already pictured +himself going through Europe and holding this subtle conversation with +all the unknown companions whom chance might throw in his way. + +But long ere he reached London the motion of the train had sent him to +sleep; and George Brand had plenty of time to think over that letter, +and to guess at what possible intention might lie under its plausible +phrases. He had leisure to think of other things, too. The question of +money, for example--about which Molyneux had been so curious with regard +to this association--was one on which he himself was but slightly +informed, the treasury department being altogether outside his sphere. +He did not even know whether Lind had private means, or was enabled to +live as he did by the association, for its own ends. He knew that the +Society had numerous paid agents; no doubt, he himself could have +claimed a salary, had it been worth his while. But the truth is that +"dibs" concerned him very little. He had never been extravagant; he had +always lived well within his income; and his chief satisfaction in being +possessed of a liberal fortune lay in the fact that he had not to bother +his head about money. There was one worry the less in life. + +But then George Brand had been a good deal about the world, and had seen +something of human life, and knew very well the power the possession of +money gives. Why, this very indifference, this happy carelessness about +pecuniary details, was but the consequence of his having a large fund +in the background that he could draw on at will. If he did not overvalue +his fortune, on the other hand he did not undervalue it; and he was +about the last man in the world who could reasonably have been expected +to part with it. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +A TALISMAN. + + +Natalie Lind was busy writing at the window of the drawing-room in +Curzon Street when Calabressa entered, unannounced. He had outstripped +the little Anneli; perhaps he was afraid of being refused. He was much +excited. + +"Forgive me, signorina, if I startle you," he said, rapidly, in his +native tongue; "forgive me, little daughter. We go away to-night, I and +the man Kirski, whom you saved from madness: we are ordered away; it is +possible I may never see you again. Now listen." + +He took a seat beside her; in his hurry and eagerness he had for the +moment abandoned his airy manner. + +"When I came here I expected to see you a school-girl--some one in +safe-keeping--with no troubles to think of. You are a woman; you may +have trouble; and it is I, Calabressa, who would then cut off my right +hand to help you. I said I would leave you my address; I cannot. I dare +not tell any one even where I am going. What of that? Look well at this +card." + +He placed before her a small bit of pasteboard, with some lines marked +on it. + +"Now we will imagine that some day you are in great trouble; you know +not what to do; and you suddenly, bethink yourself, 'Now it is +Calabressa, and the friends of Calabressa, who must help me--'" + +"Pardon me, signore," said Natalie, gently. "To whom should I go but to +my father, if I were in trouble? And why should one anticipate trouble? +If it were to come, perhaps one might be able to brave it." + +"My little daughter, you vex me. You must listen. If no trouble comes, +well! If it does, are you any the worse for knowing that there are many +on whom you can rely? Very well; look! This is the Via Roma in Naples." + +"I know it," said Natalie: why should she not humor the good-natured +old albino, who had been a friend of her mother's? + +"You go along it until you come to this little lane; it is the Vico +Carlo; you ascend the lane--here is the first turning--you go round, and +behold! the entrance to a court. The court is dark, but there is a lamp +burning all day; go farther in, there are wine-vaults. You enter the +wine-vaults, and say, 'Bartolotti.' You do not say, 'Is Signor +Bartolotti at home?' or, 'Can I see the illustrious Signor Bartolotti,' +but 'Bartolotti,' clear and short. You understand?" + +"You give yourself too much trouble, signore." + +"I hope so, little daughter. I hope you will never have to search for +these wine-vaults; but who knows? _Alors_, one comes to you, and says, +'What is your pleasure, signorina?' Then you ask, 'Where is Calabressa?' +The answer to that? It may be, 'We do not know;' or it may be, +'Calabressa is in prison again,' or it may be,'Calabressa is dead.' +Never mind. When Calabressa dies, no one will care less than Calabressa +himself." + +"Some one would care, signore; you have a mother." + +He took her hand. + +"And a daughter, too," he said, lightly; "if the wicked little minx +would only listen. Then you know what you must say to the man whom you +will see at the wine-vaults; you must say this, 'Brother, I come with a +message from Calabressa; it is the daughter of Natalie Berezolyi who +demands your help.' Then do you know what will happen? From the next +morning you will be under the protection of the greatest power in +Europe; a power unknown but invincible; a power that no one dares to +disobey. Ah, little one, you will find out what the friends of +Calabressa can do for you when you appeal to them!" + +He smiled proudly. + +"_Allons!_ Put this card away in a secret place. Do not show it to any +one; let no one know the name I confided to you. Can you remember it, +little daughter?" + +"Bartolotti." + +"Good! Now that is one point settled; here is the next. You do not seem +to have any portrait of your mother, my little one?" + +"Ah, no!" she exclaimed, quickly; for she was more interested now. "I +suppose my father could not bear to be reminded of his loss: if there is +any portrait, I have not seen it; and how could I ask him?" + +He regarded her for a moment, and then he spoke more slowly than +hitherto: + +"Little Natalushka, I told you I am going away; and who knows what may +happen to me? I have no money or land to leave to any one; if I had a +wife and children, the only name I could leave them would be the name of +a jailbird. If I were to leave a will behind me, it would read, 'My +heart to my beloved Italia; my curse to Austria; and my--'Ah, yes, after +all I have something to leave to the little Natalushka." + +He put his hand, which trembled somewhat, into the breast of his coat, +and brought out a small leather case. + +"I am about to give you my greatest treasure, little one; my only +treasure. I think you will value it." + +He opened the case and handed it to her; inside there was a miniature, +painted on ivory; it might have been a portrait of Natalie herself. For +some time the girl did not say a word, but her eyes slowly filled with +tears. + +"She was very beautiful signore," she murmured. + +"Ah little daughter," he said, cheerfully, "I am glad to see the +portrait in safe-keeping at last. Many a risk I have run with it; many a +time I have had to hide it. And you must hide it too; let no one see it +but yourself. But now you will give me one of your own in exchange, my +little one; and so the bargain is complete." + +She went to the small table adjoining to hunt among the photographs. + +"And lastly, one more point, Signorina Natalushka," said Calabressa, +with the air of one who had got through some difficult work. "You asked +me once to find out for you who was the lady from whom you received the +little silver locket. Well, you see, that is now out of my power. I am +going away. If you are still curious, you must ask some one else; but is +it not natural to suppose that the locket may have been stolen a great +many years ago, and at last the thief resolves to restore it? No matter; +it is only a locket." + +She returned with a few photographs for him to chose from. He picked out +two. + +"There is one for me; there is one for my old mother. I will say to her, +'Do you remember the young Hungarian lady who came to see you at Spezia? +Put on your spectacles now, and see whether that is not the same young +lady. Ah, good old mother; can you see no better than that?--that is not +Natalie Berezolyi at all; that is her daughter, who lives in England. +But she has not got the English way; she is not content when she herself +is comfortable; she thinks of others; she has an ear for voices afar +off.' That is what I shall say to the old mother." + +He put the photographs in his pocket. + +"In the mean time, my little daughter," said he, "now that our pressing +business is over, one may speak at leisure: and what of you, now? My +sight is not very good; but even my eyes can see that you are not +looking cheerful enough. You are troubled, Natalushka, or you would not +have forgotten to thank me for giving you the only treasure I have in +the world." + +The girl's pale face flushed, and she said, quickly, + +"There are some things that are not to be expressed in words, Signor +Calabressa. I cannot tell you what I think of your kindness to me." + +"Silence! do you not understand my joking? _Eh, bien_; let us understand +each other. Your father has spoken to me--a little, not much. He would +rather have an end to the love affair, _n'est ce pas_?" + +"There are some other things that are not to be spoken of," the girl +said, in a low voice, but somewhat proudly. + +"Natalushka, I will not have you answer me like that. It is not right. +If you knew all my history, perhaps you would understand why I ask you +questions--why I interfere--why you think me impertinent--" + +"Oh no, signore; how can I think that?" + +She had her mother's portrait in her hand; she was gazing into the face +that was so strangely like her own. + +"Then why not answer me?" + +She looked up with a quick, almost despairing look. + +"Because I try not to think about it," she said, hurriedly. "Because I +try to think only of my work. And now, Signor Calabressa, you have given +me something else to think about; something to be my companion when I am +alone; and from my heart I thank you." + +"But you speak as if you were in great grief, my little one. It is not +all over between you and your lover?" + +"How can I tell? What can I say?" she exclaimed; and for a moment her +eyes looked up with the appealing look of a child. "He does not write to +me. I may not write to him. I must not see him." + +"But then there may be reasons for delay and consideration, little +Natalushka; your father may have reasons. And your father did not speak +to me as if it were altogether impossible. What he said was, in effect, +'We will see--we will see.' However, let us return to the important +point: it is my advice to you--you cannot have forgotten it--that +whatever happens, whatever you may think, do not, little one, seek to go +against your father's wishes. You will promise me that?" + +"I have not forgotten, signore; but do you not remember my answer? I am +no longer a child. If I am to obey, I must have reasons for obeying." + +"What?" said he smiling. "And you know that one of our chief principles +is that obedience is a virtue in itself?" + +"I do not belong to your association, Signor Calabressa." + +"The little rebel!" + +"No, no, signore; do not drive me into a false position. I cannot +understand my father, who has always been so kind to me; it is better +not to speak of it: some day, when you come back, Signore Calabressa, +you will find it all a forgotten story. Some people forget so readily; +do they not?" + +The trace of pathetic bitterness in her speech did not escape him. + +"My child," said he, "you are suffering; I perceive it. But it may soon +be over, and your joy will be all the greater. If not, if the future has +trouble for you, remember what I have told you. _Allons donc!_ Keep up a +brave heart; but I need not say that to the child of the Berezolyis." + +He rose, and at the same moment a bell was heard below. + +"You are not going, Signore Calabressa? That must be my father." + +"Your father!" he exclaimed; and he seemed confused. Then he added, +quickly, "Ah, very well. I will see him as I go down. Our business, +little one, is finished; is it not? Now repeat to me the name I +mentioned to you." + +"Bartolotti?" + +"Excellent, excellent! And you will keep the portrait from every one's +eyes but your own. Now, farewell!" + +He took her two hands in his. + +"My beautiful child," said he, in rather a trembling voice, "may Heaven +keep you as true and brave as your mother was, and send you more +happiness. I may not see England again--no, it is not likely; but in +after-years you may sometimes think of old Calabressa, and remember that +he loved you almost as he once loved another of your name." + +Surely she must have understood. He hurriedly kissed her on the +forehead, and said, "Adieu, little daughter!" and left. And when he had +gone she sunk into the chair again, and clasped both her hands round her +mother's portrait and burst into tears. + +Calabressa made his way down-stairs, and, at the foot, ran against +Ferdinand Lind. + +"Ah, amico mio," said he, in his gay manner. "See now, we have been +bidding our adieux to the little Natalushka--the rogue, to pretend to me +she had no sweetheart! Shall we have a glass of wine, _mon capitaine_, +before we imbark?" + +"Yes, yes," said Lind, though without any great cordiality. "Come into +my little room." + +He led him into the small study, and presently there was wine upon the +table. Calabressa was exceedingly vivacious, and a little difficult to +follow, especially in his French. But Lind allowed him to rattle on, +until by accident he referred to some meeting that was shortly to take +place at Posilipo. + +"Well, now, Calabressa," said Lind, with apparent carelessness, as he +broke off a bit of biscuit and poured out a glass of wine for himself, +"I suppose you know more about the opinions of the Council now than any +one not absolutely within itself." + +"I am a humble servant only, friend Lind," he remarked, as he thrust his +fingers into the breast of his military-looking coat--"a humble servant +of my most noble masters. But sometimes one hears--one guesses--_mais a +quel propos cette question, monsieur mon camarade_?" + +Lind regarded him; and said, slowly, + +"You know, Calabressa, that some seventeen years ago I was on the point +of being elected a member of the Council." + +"I know it," said the other, with a little embarrassment. + +"You know why--though you do not know the right or the wrong of it--all +that became impossible." + +Calabressa nodded. It was delicate ground, and he was afraid to speak. + +"Well," said Lind, "I ask you boldly--do you not think I have done +enough in these sixteen or seventeen years to reinstate myself? Who else +has done a tithe of the work I have done?" + +"Friend Lind, I think that is well understood at head-quarters." + +"Very well, then, Calabressa, what do you think? Consider what I have +done; consider what I have now to do--what I may yet do. There is this +Zaccatelli business. I do not approve of it myself. I think it is a +mistake, as far as England is concerned. The English will not hear of +assassination, even though it is such a criminal as the _cardinale +affamatore_ who is to be punished. But though I do not approve, I obey. +Some one from the English section will fulfil that duty: it is something +to be considered. Then money; think of the money I have contributed. +Without English money what would have been done? when there is any new +levy wanted, it is to England--to me--they apply first; and at the +present moment their cry for money is more urgent than ever. Very well, +then, my Calabressa; what do you think of all this?" + +Calabressa seemed somewhat embarrassed. + +"Friend Lind, I am not so far into their secrets as that. Being in +prison so long, one loses terms of familiarity with many of one's old +associates, you perceive. But your claims are undoubted, my friend; yes, +yes, undoubted." + +"But what do you think, Calabressa?" he said; and that affectation of +carelessness had now gone: there was an eager look in the deep-set eyes +under the bushy eyebrows. "What do you yourself think of my chance? It +ought to be no chance; it ought to be a certainty. It is my due. I claim +it as the reward of my sixteen years' work, to say nothing of what went +before." + +"_Ah, naturellement, sans doute, tu as raison, mon camarade,_" said the +politic Calabressa, endeavoring to get out of the difficulty with a +shrug of his shoulders. "But--but--the more one knows of the Council the +more one fears prying into its secrets. No, no; I do what I am told; for +the rest my ears are closed." + +"If I were on the Council, Calabressa," said Lind, slowly, "you would be +treated with more consideration. You have earned as much." + +"A thousand thanks, friend Lind," said the other; "but I have no more +ambitions now. The time for that is past. Let them make what they can +out of old Calabressa--a stick to beat a dog with; as long as I have my +liberty and a cigarette, I am content." + +"Ah, well," said Lind, resuming his careless air, "you must not imagine +I am seriously troubled because the Council have not as yet seen fit to +think of what I have done for them. I am their obedient servant, like +yourself. Some day, perhaps, I may be summoned." + +"_A la bonne heure!_" said Calabressa, rising. "No, no more wine. Your +port-wine here is glorious--it is a wine for the gods; but a very little +is enough for a man. So, farewell, my good friend Lind. Be kind to the +beautiful Natalushka, if that other thing that I spoke of is +impossible. If the bounty of Heaven had only given me such a daughter!" + +"Kirski will meet you at the station," said Lind. "Charing Cross, you +remember; eight sharp. The train is 8.25." + +"I will be there." + +They shook hands and parted; the door was shut. Then, in the street +outside, Calabressa glanced up at the drawing-room windows just for a +second. + +"Ah, little daughter," he said to himself as he turned away, "you do not +know the power of the talisman I have given you. But you will not use +it. You will be happy; you will marry the Englishman; you will have +little children round your knee; and you will lead so busy and glad a +life, year after year, that you will never have a minute to sit down and +think of old Calabressa, or of the stupid little map of Naples he left +with you." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +AN ALTERNATIVE. + + +Once again the same great city held these two. When George Brand looked +out in the morning on the broad river, and the bridges, and the hurrying +cabs and trains and steamers, he knew that this flood of dusky sunshine +was falling also on the quieter ways of Hyde Park and semi-silent +thoroughfares adjoining. They were in the same city, but they were far +apart. An invisible barrier separated them. It was not to Curzon Street +that he directed his steps when he went out into the still, close air +and the misty sunlight. + +It was to Lisle Street that he walked; and all the way he was persuading +himself to follow Calabressa's advice. He would betray no impatience, +however specious Lind might be. He would shut down that distrust of +Natalie's father that was continually springing up in his mind. He would +be considerate to the difficulties of his position, ready to admit the +reasonableness of his arguments, mindful of the higher duties demanded +of himself. But then--but then--he bethought him of that evening at the +theatre; he remembered what she had said; how she had looked. He was not +going to give up his beautiful, proud-natured sweetheart as a mere +matter of expediency, as the conclusion of a clever bit of argument. + +When he entered Mr. Lind's room he found Heinrich Reitzei its sole +occupant. Lind had not yet arrived: the pallid-faced young man with the +_pince-nez_ was in possession of his chair. And no sooner had George +Brand made his appearance than Reitzei rose, and, with a significant +smile, motioned the new-comer to take the vacant seat he had just +quitted. + +"What do you mean?" Brand said, naturally taking another chair, which +was much nearer him. + +"Will you not soon be occupying this seat _en permanence_?" Reitzei +said, with affected nonchalance. + +"Lind has abdicated, then, I presume," said Brand, coldly: this young +man's manner had never been very grateful to him. + +Reitzei sunk into the seat again, and twirled at his little black waxed +mustache. + +"Abdicated? No; not yet," he said with an air of indifference. "But if +one were to be translated to a higher sphere?--there is a vacancy in the +Council." + +"Then he would have to live abroad," said Brand, quickly. + +The younger man did not fail to observe his eagerness, and no doubt +attributed it to a wrong cause. It was no sudden hope of succeeding to +Lind's position that prompted the exclamation; it was the possibility of +Natalie being carried away from England. + +"He would have to live in the place called nowhere," said Reitzei, with +a calm smile. "He would have to live in the dark--in the middle of the +night--everywhere and nowhere at the same moment." + +Brand was on the point of asking what would then become of Natalie, but +he forbore. He changed the subject altogether. + +"How is that mad Russian fellow getting on--Kirski? Still working?" + +"Yes; at another kind of work. Calabressa has undertaken to turn his +vehemence into a proper channel--to let off the steam, as it were, in +another direction." + +"Calabressa?" + +"Kirski has become the humble disciple of Calabressa, and has gone to +Genoa with him." + +"What folly is this!" Brand said. "Have you admitted that maniac?" + +"Certainly; such force was not to be wasted." + +"A pretty disciple! How much Russian does Calabressa know?" + +"Gathorne Edwards is with them; it is some special business. Both +Calabressa and Kirski will be capital linguists before it is over." + +"But how has Edwards got leave again from the British Museum?" + +Reitzei shrugged his shoulders. + +"I believe Lind wants to buy him over altogether. We could pay him more +than the British Museum." + +At this moment there was a sound outside of some one ascending the +stair, and directly afterward Mr. Lind entered the room. As he came in +Reitzei left. + +"How do you do, Mr. Brand?" Lind said, shaking his visitor's hand with +great warmth. "Very glad to see you looking so well; hard work does not +hurt you, clearly. I hope I have not incommoded you in asking you to run +up to London?" + +"Not at all," Brand said. "Molyneux came up with me last night." + +"Ah! You have gained him over?" + +"Quite." + +"Again I congratulate you. Well, now, since we have begun upon business, +let us continue upon business." + +He settled himself in his chair, as if for some serious talk. Brand +could not help being struck by the brisk, vivacious, energetic look of +this man; and on this morning he was even more than usually smartly +dressed. Was it his daughter who had put that flower in his button-hole? + +"I will speak frankly to you, and as clear as I can in my poor English. +You must let me say, without flattery, that we are all very indebted to +you--very proud of you; we are glad to have you with us. And now that +you see farther and farther about our work, I trust you are not +disappointed. You understand at the outset you must take so much on +trust." + +"I am not in the least disappointed; quite the reverse," Brand said; and +he remembered Calabressa, and spoke in as friendly a way as possible. +"Indeed, many a time I am sorry one cannot explain more fully to those +who are only inquiring. If they could only see at once all that is going +on, they would have no more doubt. And it is slow work with some of +them." + +"Yes, certainly; no doubt. Well, to return, if you please: it is a +satisfaction you are not disappointed; that you believe we are doing a +good work; that you go with us. Very well. You have advanced grade by +grade; you see nothing to repent of; why not take the final step?" + +"I don't quite understand you," he said, doubtfully. + +"I will explain. You have given yourself to us--your time, your labor, +your future; but the final step of self-sacrifice--is it so very +difficult? In many cases it is merely a challenge: we say, 'Show that +you can trust us even for your very livelihood. Become absolutely +dependent on us, even for your food, your drink, your clothes.' In your +case, I admit, it is something more: it is an invitation to a very +considerable self-sacrifice. All the more proof that you are not +afraid." + +"I do not think I am afraid," said Brand, slowly; "but--" + +"One moment. The affair is simple. The officers of our society--those +who govern--those from whom are chosen the members of the Council--that +Council that is more powerful than any government in Europe--those +officers, I say, are required first of all to surrender every farthing +of personal property, so that they shall become absolutely dependent on +the Society itself--" + +Brand looked a trifle bewildered: more than that, resentful and +indignant, as if his common-sense had received a shock. + +"It is a necessary condition," Lind continued, without eagerness--rather +as if he were merely enunciating a theory. "It insures absolute +equality; it is a proof of faith. And you may perceive that, as I am +alive, they do not allow one to starve." + +The slight smile that accompanied this remark was meant to be +reassuring. Certainly, Mr. Lind did not starve; if the society of which +he was a member enabled him to live as he did in Curzon Street, he had +little to complain of. + +"You mean," said George Brand, "that before I enter this highest grade, +next to the Council, I must absolutely surrender my entire fortune to +you?" + +"To the common fund of the Society--yes," was the reply; uttered as a +matter of course. + +"But there is no compulsion?" + +"Certainly not. On this point every one is free. You may remain in your +present grade if you please." + +"Then I confess to you I don't see why I should change," Brand said, +frankly. "Cannot I work as well for you just as I am?" + +"Perhaps; perhaps not," said the other, easily. "But you perceive, +further, that the fact of our not exacting subscriptions from the poorer +members of our association makes it all the more necessary that we +should have voluntary gifts from the richer. And as regards a surplus of +wealth, of what use is that to any one? Am I not granted as much money +as one need reasonably want? And just now there is more than ever a +need of money for the general purposes of the Society: Lord Evelyn gave +us a thousand pounds last week." + +Brand flushed red. + +"I wish you had told me," he said; "I would rather have given you five +thousand. You know he cannot afford it." + +"The greater the merit of the sacrifice," said his companion calmly. + +This proposal was so audacious that George Brand was still a little +bewildered; but the fact was that, while listening very respectfully to +Mr. Lind, he had been thinking more about Natalie; and it was the most +natural thing in the world that some thought of her should now +intervene. + +"Another thing, Mr. Lind," said he, though he was rather embarrassed. +"Even if I were to make such a sacrifice, as far as I am concerned; if I +were to run the risk for myself alone, that might all be very well; but +supposing I were to marry, do you think I should like my wife to run +such a risk--do you think I should be justified in allowing her? And +surely _you_ ought not to ask _me_. It is your own daughter--" + +"Excuse me, Mr. Brand," said the other, blandly but firmly. "We will +restrict ourselves to business at the present moment, if you will be so +kind. I wrote to you all that occurred to me when I had to consider your +very flattering proposal with regard to my daughter; I may now add that, +if any thought of her interfered with your decision in this matter, I +should still further regret that you had ever met." + +"You do not take the view a father would naturally take about the future +of his own daughter," said Brand, bluntly. + +Lind was not in the least moved by this taunt. + +"I should allow neither the interests of my daughter nor my own +interests to interfere with my sense of duty," said he. "Do you know me +so little? Do you know her so little? Ah, then you have much to learn of +her!" + +Lind looked at him for a second or two, and added, with a slight smile, + +"If you decide to say no, be sure I will not say a word of it to her. +No; I will still leave the child her hero in her imagination. For when I +said to her, 'Natalie, an Englishman will do a good deal for the good of +the people--he will give you his sympathy, his advice, his time, his +labor--but he will not put his hand in his pocket;' then she said, 'Ah, +but you do not understand Mr. Brand yet, papa; he is with us; he is not +one to go back.'" + +"But this abandonment of one's property is so disproportionate in +different cases--" + +"The greater the sacrifice, the greater the merit," returned the other: +then he immediately added, "But do not imagine I am seeking to persuade +you. I place before you the condition on which you may go forward and +attain the highest rank, ultimately perhaps the greatest power, in this +organization. Ah, you do not understand what that is as yet. If you +knew, you would not hesitate very long, I think." + +"But--but suppose I have no great ambition," Brand remonstrated. +"Suppose I am quite content to go on doing what I can in my present +sphere?" + +"You have already sworn to do your utmost in every direction. On this +one point of money, however, the various Councils have never departed +from the principle that there must be no compulsion. On any other point +the Council orders; you obey. On this point the voluntary sacrifice has, +as I say, all the more merit; and it is not forgotten. For what are you +doing? You are yielding up a superabundance that you cannot use, so that +thousands and thousands of the poor throughout the world may not be +called on to contribute their pence. You are giving the final proof of +your devotion. You are taking the vow of poverty and dependence, which +many of the noblest brotherhoods the world has seen have exacted from +their members at the very outset; but in your case with the difference +that you can absolutely trust to the resources of an immense +association--" + +"Yes, as far as I am concerned," Brand said, quickly. "But I ask you +whether I should be justified in throwing away this power to protect +others. May I appeal to Natalie herself? May I ask her?" + +"I am afraid, Mr. Brand," said the other, with the same mild firmness, +"I must request you in the meantime to leave Natalie out of +consideration altogether. This is a question of duty, of principle; it +must regulate our future relations with each other; pray let it stand by +itself." + +Brand sat silent for a time. There were many things to think over. He +recalled, for example, though vaguely, a conversation he had once had +with Lord Evelyn, in which this very question of money was discussed, +and in which he had said that he would above all things make sure he was +not being duped. Moreover, he had intended that his property, in the +event of his dying unmarried, should go to his nephews. But it was not +his sister's boys who were now uppermost in his mind. + +He rose. + +"You cannot expect me to give you a definite answer at once," he said, +almost absently. + +"No; before you go, let me add this," said the other, regarding his +companion with a watchful look: "the Council are not only in urgent need +of liberal funds just now, but also, in several directions, of diligent +and exceptional service. The money contribution which they demand from +England I shall be able to meet somehow, no doubt; hitherto I have not +failed them. The claim for service shall not find us wanting, either, I +hope; and it has been represented to me that perhaps you ought to be +transferred to Philadelphia, where there is much to be done at the +present moment." + +This suggestion effectually awoke Brand from his day-dream. + +"Philadelphia!" he exclaimed. + +"Yes," said the other, speaking very slowly, as if anxious that every +word should have weight. "My visit, short as it was, enabled me to see +how well one might employ one's whole lifetime there--with such results +as would astonish our good friends at head-quarters, I am sure of that. +True, the parting from one's country might be a little painful at first; +but that is not the greatest of the sacrifices that one should be +prepared to submit to. However," he added, rather more lightly, "this is +still to be decided on; meanwhile I hope, and I am sure you hope too, +Mr. Brand, that I shall be able to satisfy the Council that the English +section does not draw back when called on for its services." + +"No doubt--no doubt," Brand said; but the pointed way in which his +companion had spoken did not escape him, and promised to afford him +still further food for reflection. + +But if this was a threat, he would show no fear. + +"Molyneux wishes to get back North as soon as possible," he said, in a +matter-of-fact way, just as if talking of commonplace affairs the whole +time. "I suppose his initiation could take place to-morrow night?" + +"Certainly," said Mr. Lind, following his visitor to the door. "And you +must certainly allow me to thank you once more, my dear Mr. Brand, for +your service in securing to us such an ally. I should like to have +talked with you about your experiences in the North; but you agree with +me that the suggestion I have made demands your serious consideration +first--is it not so?" + +Brand nodded. + +"I will let you know to-morrow," said he. "Good-morning!" + +"Good-morning!" said Mr. Lind, pleasantly; and then the door was shut. + +He was attended down-stairs by the stout old German, who, on reaching +the front-door, drew forth a letter from his pocket and handed it to him +with much pretence of mystery. He was thinking of other things, to tell +the truth; and as he walked along he regarded the outside of the +envelope with but little curiosity. It was addressed, "_All' Egregio +Sigmore, Il Signor G. Brand._" + +"No doubt a begging letter from some Leicester Square fellow," he +thought. + +Presently, however, he opened the letter, and read the following +message, which was also in Italian: + +"The beautiful caged little bird sighs and weeps, because she thinks she +is forgotten. A word of remembrance would be kind, if her friend is +discreet and secret. Above all, no open strife. This from one who +departs. Farewell!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + +A FRIEND'S ADVICE. + + +This must be said for George Brand, that while he was hard and +unsympathetic in the presence of those whom he disliked or distrusted, +in the society of those whom he did like and did trust he was docile and +acquiescent as a child, easily led and easily persuaded. When he went +from Lind's chamber, which had been to him full of an atmosphere of +impatience and antagonism, to Lord Evelyn's study, and found his friend +sitting reading there, his whole attitude changed; and his first duty +was to utter a series of remonstrances about the thousand pounds. + +"You can't afford it, Evelyn. Why didn't you come to me? I would have +given it to you a dozen times over rather than you should have paid it." + +"No doubt you would," said the pale lad. "That is why I did not come to +you." + +"I wish you could get it back." + +"I would not take it back. It is little enough I can do; why not let me +give such help as I can? If only those girls would begin to marry off, I +might do more. But there is such a band of them that men are afraid to +come near them." + +"I think it would be a pity to spoil the group," said Brand. "The +country should subscribe to keep them as they are--the perfect picture +of an English family. However, to return: you must promise me not to +commit any of these extravagances again. If any appeal is made to you, +come to me." + +But here a thought seemed to strike him; + +"Ah," he said, "I have something to tell you. Lind is trying to get me +to enter the same grade of officership with himself. And do you know +what the first qualification is?--that you give up every penny you +possess in the world." + +"Well?" + +"Well!" + +The two friends stared at each other--the one calmly inquisitive, the +other astounded. + +"I thought you would have burst out laughing!" Brand exclaimed. + +"Why?" said the other. "You have already done more for them--for +us--than that: why should you not do all in your power? Why should you +not do all that you can, and while you can? Look!" + +They were standing at the window. On the other side of the street far +below them were some funeral carriages; at this precise moment the +coffin was being carried across the pavement. + +"That is the end of it. I say, why shouldn't you do all that you can, +and while you can?" + +"Do you want reasons? Well, one has occurred to me since I came into +this room. A minute ago I said to you that you must not repeat that +extravagance; and I said if you were appealed to again you could come to +me. But what if I had already surrendered every penny in the world? I +wish to retain in my own hands at least the power to help my friends." + +"That is only another form of selfishness," said Lord Evelyn, laughing. +"I fear you are as yet of weak faith, Brand." + +He turned from the light, and went and sunk into the shadow of a great +arm-chair. + +"Now I know what you are going to do, Evelyn," said his friend. "You are +going to talk me out of my common-sense; and I will not have it. I want +to show you why it is impossible I should agree to this demand." + +"If you feel it to be impossible, it is impossible." + +"My dear fellow, is it reasonable?" + +"I dislike things that are reasonable." + +"There is but one way of getting at you. Have you thought of Natalie?" + +"Ah!" said the other, quickly raising himself into an expectant +attitude. + +"You will listen now, I suppose, to reason, to common-sense. Do you +think it likely that, with the possibility of her becoming my wife, I am +going to throw away this certainty and leave her to all chances of the +world? Lind says that the Society amply provides for its officers. Very +well; that is quite probable. I tell him that I am not afraid for +myself; if I had to think of myself alone, there is no saying what I +might not do, even if I were to laugh at myself for doing it. But how +about Natalie? Lind might die. I might be sent away to the ends of the +earth. Do you think I am going to leave her at the mercy of a lot of +people whom she never saw?" + +Lord Evelyn was silent. + +"Besides, there is more than that," his friend continued, warmly. "You +may call it selfishness, if you like, but if you love a woman and she +gives her life into your hands--well, she has the first claim on you. I +will put it to you: do you think I am going to sell the +Beeches--when--when she might live there?" + +Lord Evelyn did not answer. + +"Of course I am willing to subscribe largely," his friend continued; +"and Natalie herself would say yes to that. But I am not ambitious. I +don't want to enter that grade. I don't want to sit in Lind's chair when +he gets elected to the Council, as has been suggested to me. I am not +qualified for it; I don't care about it; I can best do my own work in my +own way." + +At last Lord Evelyn spoke; but it was in a meditative fashion, and not +very much to the point. He lay back in his easy-chair, his hands clasped +behind his head, and talked; and his talk was not at all about the +selling of Hill Beeches in Buckinghamshire, but of much more abstract +matters. He spoke of the divine wrath of the reformer--what a curious +thing it was, that fiery impatience with what was wrong in the world; +how it cropped up here and there from time to time; and how one abuse +after another had been burnt up by it and swept away forever. Give the +man possessed of this holy rage all the beauty and wealth and ease in +the world, and he is not satisfied; there is something within him that +vibrates to the call of humanity without; others can pass by what does +not affect themselves with a laugh or a shrug of indifference; he only +must stay and labor till the wrong thing is put right. And how often +had he been jeered at by the vulgar of his time; how Common-Sense had +pointed the finger of scorn at him; how Respectability had called him +crazed! John Brown at Harper's Ferry is only a ridiculous old fool; his +effort is absurd; even gentlemen in the North feel an "intellectual +satisfaction" that he is hanged, because of his "preposterous +miscalculation of possibilities." Yes, no doubt; you hang him, and there +is an end; but "his soul goes marching on," and the slaves are freed! +You want to abolish the Corn-laws?--all good society shrieks at you at +first: you are a Radical, a regicide, a Judas Iscariot; but in time the +nation listens, and the poor have cheap bread. "Mazzini is mad!" the +world cries: "why this useless bloodshed? It is only political murder." +Mazzini is mad, no doubt: but in time the beautiful dream of Italy--of +"Italia, the world's wonder, the world's care"--comes true. And what +matter to the reformer, the agitator, the dreamer, though you stone him +to death, or throw him to the lions, or clap him into a +nineteenth-century prison and shut his mouth that way? He has handed on +the sacred fire. Others will bear the torch; and he who is unencumbered +will outstrip his fellows. The wrong must be put right. + +And so forth, and so forth. Brand sat and listened, recognizing here and +there a proud, pathetic phrase of Natalie's, and knowing well whence the +inspiration came; and as he listened he almost felt as though that +beautiful old place in Buckinghamshire was slipping through his fingers. +The sacrifice seemed to be becoming less and less of a sacrifice; it +took more and more the form of a duty; would Natalie's eyes smile +approval? + +Brand jumped up, and took a rapid turn or two up and down the room. + +"I won't listen to you, Evelyn. You don't know anything about +money-matters. You care for nothing but ideas. Now, I come of a +commercial stock, and I want to know what guarantee I have that this +money, if I were to give it up, would be properly applied. Lind's +assurances are all very well--" + +"Oh yes, of course; you have got back to Lind," said Lord Evelyn, waking +up from his reveries. "Do you know, my dear fellow, that your distrust +of Lind is rapidly developing into a sharp and profound hatred?" + +"I take men as I find them. Perhaps you can explain to me how Lind +should care so little for the future of his daughter as to propose--with +the possibility of our marrying--that she should be left penniless?" + +"I can explain it to myself, but not to you; you are too thorough an +Englishman." + +"Are you a foreigner?" + +"I try to understand those who are not English. Now, an Englishman's +theory is that he himself, and his wife and children--his domestic +circle, in fact--are the centre of creation; and that the fate of +empires, as he finds that going one way or the other in the telegrams of +the morning paper, is a very small matter compared with the necessity of +Tom's going to Eton, or Dick's marrying and settling down as the bailiff +of the Worcestershire farm. That is all very well; but other people may +be of a different habit of mind. Lind's heart and soul are in his +present work; he would sacrifice himself, his daughter, you, or anybody +else to it, and consider himself amply justified. He does not care about +money, or horses, or the luxury of a big establishment; I suppose he has +had to live on simple fare many a time, whether he liked it or not, and +can put up with whatever happens. If you imagine that you may be cheated +by a portion of your money--supposing you were to adopt his +proposal--going into his pocket as commission, you do him a wrong." + +"No, I don't think that," Brand said, rather unwillingly. "I don't take +him to be a common and vulgar swindler. And I can very well believe that +he does not care very much for money or luxury or that kind of thing, so +far as he himself is concerned. Still, you would think that the ordinary +instinct of a father would prevent his doing an injury to the future of +his daughter--" + +"Would he consider it an injury. Would she?"' + +"Well," Brand said, "she is very enthusiastic, and noble, and generous, +and does not know what dependence or poverty means. But he is a man of +the world, and you would think he would look after his own kith and +kin." + +"Yes, that is a wholesome conservative English sentiment, but it does +not rule the actions of everybody." + +"But common sense--" + +"Oh, bother common sense! Common-sense is only a grocer that hasn't got +an idea beyond ham-and-eggs." + +"Well, if I am only a grocer," Brand said, quite submissively, "don't +you think the grocer, if he were asked to pay off the National Debt, +ought to say, 'Gentlemen, that is a praiseworthy object; but in the +meantime wouldn't it be advisable for me to make sure that my wife +mayn't have to go on the parish?" + +Thereafter there was silence for a time, and when Brand next spoke it +was in a certain, precise, hard fashion, as if he wished to make his +meaning very clear. + +"Suppose, Evelyn," he said, "I were to tell you what has occurred to me +as the probable explanation of Lind's indifference about the future of +his daughter, would you be surprised?" + +"I expect it will be wrong, for you cannot do justice to that man; but I +should like to hear it." + +"I must tell you he wrote me a letter, a shilly-shallying sort of +letter, filled with arguments to prove that a marriage between Natalie +and myself would not be expedient, and all the rest of it: not +absolutely refusing his consent, you understand, but postponing the +matter, and hoping that on further reflection, et caetera, et caetera. +Well, do you know what my conclusion is?--that he is definitely resolved +I shall not marry his daughter; and that he is playing with me, +humbugging me with the possibility of marrying her, until he induces me +to hand him over my fortune for the use of the Society. Stare away as +you like; that is what I believe to be true." + +He rose and walked to the window, and looked out. + +"Well, Evelyn, whatever happens, I have to thank you for many things. It +has been all like my boyhood come back again, but much more wonderful +and beautiful. If I have to go to America, I shall take with me at least +the memory of one night at Covent Garden. She was there--and Madame +Potecki--and old Calabressa. It was _Fidelio_ they were playing. She +gave me some forget-me-nots." + +"What do you mean by going to America?" Lord Evelyn said. + +Brand remained at the window for a minute or two, silent, and then he +returned to his chair. + +"You will say I am unjust again. But unless I am incapable of +understanding English--such English as he speaks--this is his ultimatum: +that unless I give my property, every cent of it, over to the Society, I +am to go to America. It is a distinct and positive threat." + +"How can you say so!" the other remonstrated. "He has just been to +America himself, without any compulsion whatever." + +"He has been to America for a certain number of weeks. I am to go for +life--and, as he imagines, alone." + +His face had been growing darker and darker, the brows lowering +ominously over the eyes. + +"Now, Brand," his friend said, "you are letting your distrust of this +man Lind become a madness. What if he were to say to-morrow that you +might marry Natalie the day after?" + +The other looked up almost bewildered. + +"I would say he was serving some purpose of his own. But he will not say +that. He means to keep his daughter to himself, and he means to have my +money." + +"Why, you admitted, a minute ago, that even you could not suspect him of +that!" + +"Not for himself--no. Probably he does not care for money. But he cares +for ambition--for power; and there is a vacancy in the Council. Don't +you see? This would be a tremendous large sum in the eyes of a lot of +foreigners: they would be grateful, would they not? And Natalie once +transferred to Italy, I could console myself with the honor and dignity +of Lind's chair in Lisle Street. Don't you perceive?" + +"I perceive this--that you misjudge Lind altogether. I am sure of it. I +have seen it from the beginning--from the moment you set your foot in +his house. And you tried to blind yourself to the fact because of +Natalie. Now that you imagine that he means to take Natalie from you, +all your pent-up antagonism breaks loose. Meanwhile, what does Natalie +herself say?" + +"What does she say?" he repeated, mechanically. He also was lying back +in his chair, his eyes gazing aimlessly at the window. But whenever +anyone spoke of Natalie, or whenever he himself had to speak of her, a +quite new expression came into his face; the brows lifted, the eyes were +gentle. "What does she say? Why, nothing. Lind requested me neither to +see her nor write to her; and I thought that reasonable until I should +have heard what he had to say to me. There is a message I got half an +hour ago--not from her." + +He handed to Lord Evelyn the anonymous scroll that he had received from +the old German. + +"Poor old Calabressa!" he said. "Those Italians are always very fond of +little mysteries. But how he must have loved that woman?" + +"Natalie's mother?" + +"Yes," said the other, absently. "I wonder he has never gone to see his +sweetheart of former years." + +"What do you mean?" + +Brand started. It was not necessary that Lord Evelyn should in the mean +time be intrusted with that secret. + +"He told me that when he saw Natalie it was to him like a vision from +the dead; she was so like her mother. But I must be off, Evelyn; I have +to meet Molyneux at two. So that is your advice," he said, as he went to +the door--"that I should comply with Lind's demand; or--to put it +another way--succumb to his threat?" + +"It is not my advice at all--quite the contrary. I say, if you have any +doubt or distrust--if you cannot make the sacrifice without perfect +faith and satisfaction to yourself--do not think of it." + +"And go to America?" + +"I cannot believe that any such compulsory alternative exists. But about +Natalie, surely you will send her a message; Lind cannot object to +that?" + +"I will send her no message; I will go to her," the other said, firmly. +"I believe Lind wishes me not to see her. Within the duties demanded of +me by the Society, his wishes are to me commands; elsewhere and +otherwise neither his wishes nor his commands do I value more than a +lucifer-match. Is that plain enough, Evelyn?" + +And so he went away, forgetting all the sage counsel Calabressa had +given him; thinking rather of the kindly, thoughtful, mysterious little +message the old man had left behind him, and of the beautiful caged bird +that sighed and wept because she thought she was forgotten. She should +not think that long! + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + +A PROMISE. + + +This was a dark time indeed for Natalie Lind--left entirely by herself, +ignorant of what was happening around her, and haunted by vague alarms. +But the girl was too proud to show to any one how much she suffered. On +the contrary, she reasoned and remonstrated with herself; and forced +herself to assume an attitude of something more than resignation, of +resolution. If it was necessary that her father should be obeyed, that +her lover should maintain this cruel silence, even that he and she +should have the wide Atlantic separate them forever, she would not +repine. It was not for her who had so often appealed to others to shrink +from sacrifice herself. And if this strange new hope that had filled her +heart for a time had to be finally abandoned, what of that? What +mattered a single life? She had the larger hope; there was another and +greater future for her to think about; and she could cherish the thought +that she at least had done nothing to imperil or diminish the work to +which so many of her friends had given their lives. + +But silence is hard to bear. Ever since the scene with her father, a +certain undeclared estrangement had prevailed between these two; and no +reference whatsoever had been made to George Brand. Her lover had sent +her no message--no word of encouragement, of assurance, or sympathy. +Even Calabressa had gone. There remained to her only the portrait that +Calabressa had given her; and in the solitude of her own room many a +time she sat and gazed at the beautiful face with some dim, wondering +belief that she was looking at her other self, and that she could read +in the features some portion of her own experiences, her own joys and +sorrows. For surely those soft, dark, liquid eyes must have loved and +been beloved? And had they too filled with gladness when a certain step +had been heard coming near? and they looked up with trust and pride and +tenderness, and filled with tears again in absence, when only the memory +of loving words remained? She recalled many a time what Calabressa had +said to her--"My child, may Heaven keep you as true and brave as your +mother was, and send you more happiness." Her mother, then, had not been +happy? But she was brave, Calabressa had said: when she loved a man, +would she not show herself worthy of her love? + +This was all very well; but in spite of her reasoning and her forced +courage, and her self-possession in the presence of others, Natalie had +got into the habit of crying in the quietude of her own room, to the +great distress of the little Anneli, who had surprised her once or +twice. And the rosy-cheeked German maid guessed pretty accurately what +had happened; and wondered very much at the conduct of English lovers, +who allowed their sweethearts to pine and fret in solitude without +sending them letters or coming to see them. But on this particular +afternoon Anneli opened the door, in answer to a summons, and found +outside a club commissionaire whom she had seen once or twice before; +and when he gave her a letter, addressed in a handwriting which she +recognized, and ask for an answer, she was as much agitated as if it had +come from her own sweetheart in Gorlitz. She snatched it from the man, +as if she feared he would take it back. She flew with it up-stairs, +breathless. She forgot to knock at the door. + +"Oh, Fraulein, it is a letter!" said she, in great excitement, "and +there is to be an answer--" + +Then she hesitated. But the good-sense of the child told her she ought +to go. + +"I will wait outside, Fraulein. Will you ring when you have written the +answer?" + +When Natalie opened the letter she was outwardly quite calm--a little +pale, perhaps; but as she read it her heart beat fast. And it was her +heart that instantly dictated the answer to this brief and simple +appeal: + +"My Natalie,--It is your father's wish that I should not see you. Is it +your wish also? There is something I would like to say to you." + +It was her heart that answered. She rose directly. She never thought +twice, or even once, about any wish, or menace, or possible consequence. +She went straight to her desk, and with a shaking hand wrote these +lines: + +"My Own,--Come to me now, at any time--when you please. Am I not yours? + + Natalie." + +Despite herself, she had to pause, to steady her hand--and because her +heart was beating so fast that she felt choked--before she could +properly address the envelope. Then she carried the letter to Anneli, +who she knew was waiting outside. That done, she shut herself in again, +to give herself time to think, though in truth she could scarcely think +at all. For all sorts of emotions were struggling for the mastery of +her--joy and a proud resolve distinctly predominant. It was done, and +she would abide by it. She was not given to fear. + +But she tried hard to think. At last her lover was coming to her; he +would ask her what she was prepared to do: what would she answer? + +Then, again, the joy of the thought that she was about to see him drove +every other consideration out of her mind. How soon might he be here? +Hurriedly she went to a jar of flowers on the table, chose some scarlet +geraniums, and turned to a mirror. Her haste did not avail much, for her +fingers were still trembling: but that was the color he had said, on one +occasion, suited her best. She had not been wearing flowers in her hair +of late. + +From time to time, for a second or so, some thought of her father +intervened. But then her father had only enjoined her to dismiss forever +the hope of her marrying the man to whom she had given her heart and +her life: that could not prevent her loving him, and seeing him, and +telling him that her love was his. She wished the geraniums were less +rose-red and more scarlet in hue. It was the scarlet he had approved +of--that evening that he and she the little Polish lady had dined +together. + +She had not long to wait. With a quick, intense consciousness she heard +the hansom drive up, and the rapid knock that followed; her heart +throbbed through the seconds of silence; then she knew that he was +ascending the stair; then it seemed to her as if the life would go out +of her altogether. But when he flung the door open and came toward her; +when he caught her two hands in his--one hand in each hand--and held +them tight; when, in a silence that neither cared to break, he gazed +into her rapidly moistening eyes--then the full tide of joy and courage +returned to her heart, and she was proud that she had sent him that +answer. For some seconds--to be remembered during a life time--they +regarded each other in silence; then he released her hands, and began to +put back the hair from her forehead as if he would see more clearly into +the troubled deeps of her eyes; and then, somehow--perhaps to hide her +crying--she buried her face in his breast, and his arms were around her, +and she was sobbing out all the story of her waiting and her despair. + +"What!" said he, cheerfully, to calm and reassure her, "the brave +Natalie to be frightened like that!" + +"I was alone," she murmured. "I had no one to speak to; and I could not +understand. Oh, my love, my love, you do not know what you are to me!" + +He kissed her; her cheeks were wet. + +"Natalie," said he in a low voice, "don't forget this: we may be +separated--that is possible--I don't know; but if we live fifty years +apart from each other--if you never hear one word more from me or of +me--be sure of this, that I am thinking of you always, and loving you, +as I do at this moment when my arms are around you. Will you remember +that? Will you believe that--always?" + +"I could not think otherwise," she answered. "But now that you are with +me--that I can hear you speak to me--" And at this point her voice +failed her altogether; and he could only draw her closer to him, and +soothe and caress her, and stroke the raven-black hair that had never +before thrilled his fingers with its soft, strange touch. + +"Perhaps," she said at last, in a broken and hesitating voice, "you will +blame me for having said what I have said. I have had no +girl-companions; scarcely any woman to tell me what I should do and say. +But--but I thought you were going to America--I thought I should never +see you again--I was lonely and miserable; and when I saw you again, how +could I help saying I was glad? How could I help saying that, and +more?--for I never knew it till now. Oh, my love, do you know that you +have become the whole world to me? When you are away from me, I would +rather die than live!" + +"Natalie--my life!" + +"I must say that to you--once--that you may understand--if we should +never see each other again. And now--" + +She gently released herself from his embrace, and went and sat down by +the table. He took a chair near her and held her hand. She would not +look up, for her eyes were still wet with tears. + +"And now," she said, making a great effort to regain her self-control, +"you must tell me about yourself. A woman may have her feelings and +fancies, and cry over them when she is afraid or alone; that is nothing; +it is the way of the world. It is a man's fate that is of importance." + +"You must not talk like that, Natalie," said he gravely. "Our fate is +one. Without you, I don't value my life more than this bit of +geranium-leaf; with you, life would be worth having." + +"And you must not talk like that either," she said. "Your life is +valuable to others. Ah, my dear friend, that is what I have been trying +to console myself with of late. I said, 'Well, if he goes away and does +not see me again, will he not be freer? He has a great work to do; he +may have to go away from England for many years; why should he be +encumbered with a wife?" + +"It was your father, I presume, who made those suggestions to you?" said +Brand, regarding her. + +"Yes; papa said something like that," she answered, quite innocently. +"That is what would naturally occur to him; his work has always the +first place in his thoughts. And with you, too; is it not so?" + +"No." + +She looked up quickly. + +"I will be quite frank with you, Natalie. You have the first place in my +thoughts; I hope you ever will have, while I am a living man. But cannot +I give the Society all the work that is in me equally well, whether I +love you or whether I don't, whether you become my wife or whether you +do not? I have no doubt your father has been talking to you as he has +been talking to me." + +She placed her disengaged hand on the top of his, and said, gently, + +"My father perhaps does not quite understand you; perhaps he is too +anxious. I, for one, am not anxious--about _that_. Do you know how I +trust you, my dearest of friends? Sometimes I have said to myself, 'I +will ask him for a pledge. I will say to him that he must promise, that +he must swear to me, that whatever happens as between him and me, +nothing, nothing, nothing in all the world will induce him to give up +what he has undertaken;' but then again I have said to myself, 'No, I +can trust him for that.'" + +"I think you may, Natalie," said he, rather absently. "And yet what +could have led me to join such a movement but your own noble spirit--the +glamour of your voice--the thanks of your eyes? You put madness into my +blood with your singing." + +"Do you call it madness?" she said, with a faint flush in the pale olive +face. "Is it not rather kindness--is it not justice to others--the +desire to help--something that the angels in heaven must feel when they +look down and see what a great misery there is in the world?" + +"I think you are an angel yourself, Natalie," said he, quite simply, +"and that you have come down and got among a lot of people who don't +treat you too well. However, we must come to the present moment. You +spoke of America; now what do you know about that?" + +The abrupt question startled her. She had been so overjoyed to see +him--her whole soul was so buoyant and radiant with happiness--that she +had quite forgotten or dismissed the vague fears that had been of late +besetting her. But she proceeded to tell him, with a little hesitation +here and there, and with a considerable smoothing down of phrases, what +her father had said to her. She tried to make it appear quite +reasonable. And all she prayed for was that, if he were sent to America, +if they had to part for many years, or forever, she should be permitted +to say good-bye to him. + +"We are not parted yet," said Brand, briefly. + +The fact was, he had just got a new key to the situation. So that threat +about America could serve a double purpose? He was now more than ever +convinced that Ferdinand Lind was merely playing off and on with him +until this money question should be settled; and that he had been +resolved all the time that his daughter should not marry. He was +beginning to understand. + +"Natalie," said he, slowly, "I told you I had something to say to you. +You know your father wrote to me in the North, asking me neither to see +you nor write to you until some matter between him and me was settled. +Well, I respected his wish until I should know what the thing was. Now +that I do know, it seems to me that you are as much concerned as any +one; and that it is not reasonable, it is not possible, I should refrain +from seeing you and consulting you." + +"No one shall prevent your seeing me, when it is your wish," said the +girl, in a low voice. + +"This, then, is the point: you know enough about the Society to +understand, and there is no particular secret. Your father wishes me to +enter the higher grade of officers, under the Council; and the first +condition is that one surrenders up every farthing of one's property." + +"Yes?" + +He stared at her. Her "Yes?"--with its affectionate interest and its +absolute absence of surprise--was almost the exact equivalent of Lord +Evelyn's "Well?" + +"Perhaps you would advise me to consent?" he said, almost in the way of +a challenge. + +"Ah, no," she said, with a smile. "It is not for me to advise on such +things. What you decide for yourself, that will be right." + +"But you don't understand, my darling. Supposing I were ambitious of +getting higher office, which I am not; supposing I were myself willing +to sell my property to swell the funds of the Society--and I don't think +I should be willing in any case--do you think I would part with what +ought to belong to my wife--to you, Natalie? Do you think I would have +you marry a beggar--one dependent on the indulgence of people unknown to +him?" + +And now there was a look of real alarm on the girl's face. + +"Ah!" she said, quickly. "Is not that what my father feared? You are +thinking of me when you should think of others. Already I--I--interfere +with your duty; I tempt you--" + +"My darling, be calm, be reasonable. There is no duty in the matter; +your father acknowledges that himself. It is a proposal I am free to +accept or reject, as I please; and now I promise you that, as you won't +give me any advice, I shall decide without thinking of you at all. Will +that satisfy you?" + +She remained silent for a second or two, and then she said +thoughtfully, + +"Perhaps you could decide just as if there were no possibility of my +ever being your wife?" + +"To please you, I will assume that too." + +Then she said, after a bit, + +"One word more, dearest; you must grant me this--that I may always be +able to think of it when I am alone and far from you, and be able to +reassure myself: it is the promise I thought I could do so well without. +Now you will give it me?" + +"What promise?" + +"That whatever happens to you or to me, whatever my father demands of +me, and wherever you may have to go, you will never withdraw from what +you have undertaken." + +He met the earnest, pleading look of those beautiful eyes without +flinching. His heart was light enough, so far as such a promise was +concerned. Heavier oaths than that lay on him. + +"That is simple enough, Natalie," said he. "I promise you distinctly +that nothing shall cause me to swerve from my allegiance to the Society; +I will give absolute and implicit obedience, and the best of such work +as I can do. But they must not ask me to forget my Natalie." + +She rose, still holding his hand, and stood by him, so that he could not +quite see her face. Then she said, in a very low voice indeed, + +"Dearest, may I give you a ring?--you do not wear one at all--" + +"But surely, Natalie, it is for me to choose a ring for you?" + +"Ah, it is not that I mean," she said, quickly, and with her face +flushing. "It is a ring that will remind you of the promise you have +given me to-day--when we may not be able to see each other." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + +KIRSKI. + + +To this pale student from the Reading-room of the British Museum, as he +stands on a bridge crossing one of the smaller canals, surely the scene +around him must seem one fitted to gladden the heart; for it is Venice +at mid-day, in glowing sunlight: the warm cream-white fronts of the +marble palaces and casemented houses, the tall campanili with their +golden tips, the vast and glittering domes of the churches, all rising +fair and dream-like into the intense dark-blue of a cloudless sky. How +the hot sunlight brings out all the beautiful color of the place--the +richly laden fruit-stalls in the Riva dei Schiavoni; the russet and +saffron sails of the vessels; the canal-boats coming in to the steps +with huge open tuns of purple wine to be ladled out with copper buckets; +and then all around the shining, twinkling plain of the green-hued sea, +catching here and there a reflection from the softly red walls of San +Giorgio and the steel-gray gleaming domes of Santa Maria della Salute. + +Then the passers-by: these are not like the dusky ghosts that wander +through the pale-blue mists of Bloomsbury. Here comes a buxom +water-carrier, in her orange petticoat and sage-green shawl, who has the +two copper cans at the end of the long piece of wood poised on her +shoulders, pretty nearly filled to the brim. Then a couple of the gayer +gondoliers in white and blue, with fancy waist-belts, and rings in their +ears. A procession of black-garbed monks wends slowly along; they have +come from the silence of the Armenian convent over there at the horizon. +Some wandering minstrels shoot their gondola into the mouth of the +canal, and strike up a gay waltz, while they watch the shaded balconies +above. Here is a Lascar ashore from the big steamer that is to start for +Alexandria on the morrow. A company of soldiers, with blue coats, canvas +trousers, and white gaiters, half march and half trot along to the +quick, crackling music of the buglers. A swarthy-visaged maiden, with +the calm brow of a Madonna, appears in the twilight of a balcony, with a +packet of maize in her hand, and in a minute or two she is surrounded +with a cloud of pigeons. Then this beggar--a child of eight or +ten--red-haired and blue-eyed: surely she has stepped out of one of +Titian's pictures? She whines and whimpers her prayers to him; but there +is something in her look that he has seen elsewhere. It belongs to +another century. + +From these reveries Mr. Gathorne Edwards was aroused by some one tapping +him on the shoulder. It was Calabressa. + +"My dear Monsieur Edouarts," said he, in a low voice--for the red-haired +little beggar was still standing there expectant--"he has gone over to +the shipping-place. We must follow later on. Meanwhile, regard this +letter that has just been forwarded to me. Ah, you English do not forget +your promises!" + +Edwards threw a piece of money to the child, who passed on. Then he +took the letter and read it. It was in French. + + * * * * * + +"Dear Calabressa,--I want you to tell me what you have done with Yakov +Kirski. They seem unwilling to say here, and I do not choose to inquire +further. But I undertook to look after him, and I understood he was +getting on very well, and now you have carried him off. I hope it is +with no intention of allowing him to go back to Russia, where he will +simply make an attempt at murder, and fall into the hands of the police. +Do not let the poor devil go and make a fool of himself. If you want +money to send him back to England, show this letter, or forward it to +Messrs. ----, who will give you what you want. + + "Your friend, George Brand. + +"P.S.--I have seen your beautiful caged little bird. I can say no more +at present, but that she shall not suffer through any neglect of mine." + + * * * * * + +"What is that about the caged bird?" said Edwards. + +"Ah, the caged bird?" said Calabressa. "The caged bird?--do you see, +that is a metaphor. It is nothing; one makes one's little joke. But I +was saying, my dear friend, that you English do not promise, and then +forget. No; he says, 'I will befriend this poor devil of a Kirski;' and +here he comes inquiring after him. Now I must answer the letter; you +will accompany me, Monsieur Edouarts? Ten minutes in my little room, and +it is done." + +So the two walked away together. This Edwards who now accompanied +Calabressa was a man of about thirty, who looked younger; tall, fair, +with a slight stoop, a large forehead, and blue eyes that stared +near-sightedly through spectacles. The ordinary expression of his face +was grave even to melancholy, but his occasional smile was humorous, and +when he laughed the laugh was soft and light like that of a child. His +knowledge of modern languages was considered to be almost unrivalled, +though he had travelled but little. + +When, in this little room, Calabressa had at length finished his letter +and dusted it over with sand, he was not at all loath to show it to this +master of modern speech. Calabressa was proud of his French; and if he +would himself have acknowledged that it was perhaps here and there of +doubtful idiom and of phonetic spelling, would he not have claimed for +it that it was fluent, incisive, and ornate? + +"My valued friend, it is not permitted me to answer your questions in +precise terms; but he to whom you have had the goodness to extend your +bountiful protection is well and safe, and under my own care. No; he +goes not back to Russia. His thoughts are different; his madness travels +in other directions; it is no longer revenge, it is adoration and +gratitude that his heart holds. And you, can you not guess who has +worked the miracle? Think of this: you have a poor wretch who is +distracted by injuries and suffering; he goes away alone into Europe; he +is buffeted about with the winds of hunger and thirst and cold: he +cannot speak; he is like a dog--a wild beast that people drive away from +their door. And all at once some one addresses him in gentle tones: it +is the voice of an angel to him! You plough and harrow the poor wretch's +heart with suffering and contempt and hopelessness, until it is a +desert, a wilderness; but some one, by accident, one day drops a seed of +kindness into it, and behold! the beautiful flower of love springing up, +and all the man's life going into it! Can you understand--you who ought +to understand? Were you not present when the bewildered, starved, hunted +creature heard that gentle voice of pity, like an angel speaking from +heaven? And if the beautiful girl, who will be the idol of my thoughts +through my remaining years, if she does not know that she has rescued a +human soul from despair, you will tell her--tell her from me, from +Calabressa. What would not Kirski do for her? you might well ask. The +patient regards the physician who has cured him with gratitude: this is +more that gratitude, it is worship. What she has preserved she owns; he +would give his life to her, to you, to any one whom she regards with +affection. For myself, I do not say such things; but she may count on me +also, while one has yet life. + + "I am yours, and hers, Calabressa." + + * * * * * + +The letter was handed to Gathorne Edwards with a proud air; and he read +it, and handed it back. + +"This man Kirski is not so much of a savage as you imagine," he said. +"He learns quickly, and forgets nothing. He can repeat all the articles +of membership; but it is No. 5 that he is particularly fond of. You have +not heard him go over it, Calabressa?" + +"I? No. He does not waste my time that way." + +"His pronunciation," continued the younger man, with a smile, "is rather +like the cracking of dry twigs. 'Article 5. Whatever punishment may be +decreed against any Officer, Companion, or Friend of the Society may be +vicariously borne by any other Officer, Companion, or Friend who of his +own full and free consent acts as substitute; the original offender +becoming thereby redeemed, acquitted, and released.' And then he +invariably adds: 'Why not make me of some use? To myself my life is +nothing.'" + +At this moment there was a tapping at the door. + +"It is himself," said Edwards. + +"Enter!" Calabressa called out. + +The man who now came into the room was a very different looking person +from the wild, unkempt creature who had confronted Natalie Lind in +Curzon Street. The voluminous red beard and mustache had been cropped; +he wore the clothes of a decent workman, with a foreign touch here and +there; he was submissive and docile in look. + +"Well, where have you been, my friend?" Calabressa said to him in +Italian. + +Kirski glanced at Gathorne Edwards, and began to speak to him in +Russian. + +"Will you explain for me, little father? I have been to many churches." + +"The police will not suspect him if he goes there," said Calabressa, +laughing. + +"And to the shops in the Piazza San Marco, where the pictures are of the +saints." + +"Well?" + +"Little father, I can find no one of the saints so beautiful as that one +in England that the Master Calabressa knows." + +Calabressa laughed again. + +"Allons, mon grand enfant! Tell him that if it is only a likeness he is +hunting for, I can show him one." + +With that he took out from his breast-pocket a small pocket book, opened +it, found a certain photograph, and put it on the table, shoving it over +toward Kirski. The dim-eyed Russian did not dare to touch it; but he +stooped over it, and he put one trembling hand on each side of it, as if +he would concentrate the light, and gazed at this portrait of Natalie +Lind until he could see nothing at all for the tears that came into his +eyes. Then he rose abruptly, and said something rapidly to Edwards. + +"He says, 'Take it away, or you will make me a thief. It is worth more +than all the diamonds in the world.'" + +Calabressa did not laugh this time. He regarded the man with a look in +which there was as much pity as curiosity. + +"The poor devil!" he said. "Tell him I will ask the beautiful saint whom +he worships so to send him a portrait of herself with her own hands. I +will. She will do as much as that for her friend Calabressa." + +This had scarcely been translated to Kirski when, in his sudden +gratitude, he caught Calabressa's hand and kissed it. + +"Tell him, also," Calabressa said, good-naturedly, "that if he is hungry +before dinner-time there is sausage and bread and beer in the cupboard. +But he must not stir out till we come back. Allons, mon bon camarade!" + +Calabressa lit another cigarette, and the two companions sallied forth. +They stepped into a gondola, and presently they were being borne swiftly +over the plain of light-green water. By-and-by they plunged into a +varied and picturesque mass of shipping, and touched land again in front +of a series of stores. The gondola was ordered to await their return. + +Calabressa passed without question through the lower floor of this +particular building, where the people were busy with barrels of flour, +and led the way up-stairs until he stopped at a certain door. He knocked +thrice and entered. There was a small, dark man seated at a table, +apparently engaged with some bills of lading. + +"You are punctual, Brother Calabressa." + +"Your time is valuable, Brother Granaglia. Let me present to you my +comrade Signor Edouarts, of whom I wrote to you." + +The sallow-faced little man with the tired look bowed courteously, +begged his guests to be seated, and pushed toward them a box of +cigarettes. + +"Now, my Calabressa," said he, "to the point. As you guess, I am pressed +for time. Seven days hence will find me in Moscow." + +"In Moscow!" exclaimed Calabressa. "You dare not!" + +Granaglia waved his hand a couple of inches. + +"Do not protest. It may be your turn to-morrow. And my good friend +Calabressa would find Moscow just about as dangerous for him as for me." + +"Monsieur le Secretaire, I have no wish to try. But to the point, as you +say. May one ask how it stands with Zaccatelli?" + +Granaglia glanced at the Englishman. + +"Of course he knows everything," Calabressa explained instantly. "How +otherwise should I have brought him with me?" + +"Well, Zaccatelli has received his warning." + +"Who carried it?" + +"I." + +"You! You are the devil! You thrust your head into the lion's den!" + +The black-eyed, worn-faced little man seemed pleased. An odd, dry smile +appeared about the thin lips. + +"It needed no courage at all, friend Calabressa. His Eminence knows who +we are, no one better. The courage was his. It is not a pleasant thing +when you are told that within a certain given time you will be a dead +man; but Zaccatelli did not blanch; no, he was very polite to me. He +paid us compliments. We were not like the others, Calabressa. We were +good citizens and Christians; even his Holiness might be induced to lend +an ear; why should not the Church and we be friends?" + +Calabressa burst out laughing. + +"Surely evil days have fallen on the Pope, Brother Granaglia, when one +of his own Cardinals proposes that he should at last countenance a +secret society. But his Eminence was mad with fear--was it not so? He +wanted to win you over with promises, eh? Idle words, and no more. He +feeds you on wind, and sends you away, and returns to his mistresses and +his wines and his fountains of perfume?" + +"Not quite so," said the other, with the same dry smile, "His Eminence, +as I say to you, knows as well as any one in Europe who and what we are, +and what is our power. The day after I called on him with my little +message, what does he do--of his own free-will, mind you--but send back +the daughter of old De Bedros to her home, with a pledge to her father +that she shall have a dowry of ten thousand lire when she marries. The +father is pleased, the daughter is not. She sits and cries. She talks of +herself getting at him with a stiletto." + +He took a cigarette, and accepted a light from Calabressa. + +"Further," he continued, "his Eminence is so kind as to propose to give +the Council an annual subsidy from his own purse of thirty thousand +lire." + +"Thirty thousand lire!" Calabressa exclaimed. + +But at this point even Granaglia began to laugh. + +"Yes, yes, my friend," he said, apparently apostrophizing the absent +Cardinal. "You know, then, who we are, and you do not wish to give up +all pleasures. No; we are to become the good boy among secret societies; +we are to have the blessing of the Pope; we are to fight Prince Bismarck +for you. Prince Bismarck has all his knights and his castles on the +board; but what are they against an angelic host of bishops and some +millions of common pawns? Prince Bismarck wishes to plunge Europe again +into war. The church with this tremendous engine within reach, says, No. +Do you wish to find eight men--eight men, at the least--out of every +company of every regiment in all your _corps d'armee_ throw down their +rifles at the first onset of battle? You will shoot them for mutiny? My +dear fellow, you cannot, the enemy is upon you. With eight men out of +each company throwing down their weapons, and determined either to +desert or die, how on earth can you fight at all? Well, then, good +Bismarck, you had better make your peace with the Church, and rescind +those Falk laws. What do you think of that scheme, Calabressa? It was +ingenious, was it not, to have come into the head of a man under +sentence of death?" + +"But the thirty thousand lire, Brother Granaglia. It is a tremendous +bribe." + +"The Council does not accept bribes, Brother Calabressa," said the +other, coldly, + +"It is decided, then, that the decree remains to be executed?" + +"I know nothing to the contrary. But if you wish to know for certain, +you must seek the Council. They are at Naples." + +He pulled an ink-bottle before him, and made a motion with his +forefinger. + +"You understand?" + +"Yes, yes," Calabressa answered. "And I will go on to Naples, Brother +Granaglia; for I have with me one who I think will carry out the wishes +of the Council effectively, so far as his Eminence the Cardinal is +concerned." + +"Who is he?" said the other, but with no great interest. + +"Yakov Kirski. He is a Russian." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + +A CLIMAX. + + +It was a momentous decision that George Brand had to arrive at; and yet +he scarcely seemed to be aware of it. The man had changed so much during +these past six months. + +"Do you know, Evelyn," he was saying to his friend, on the very evening +on which his answer was to be given to Ferdinand Lind, "I am beginning +to look on that notion of my going to America with anything but dislike. +Rather the opposite, indeed. I should like to get rid of a lot of old +associations, and start in a new and wider field. With another life to +lead, don't you want another sort of world to live it in?" + +Lord Evelyn regarded him. No one had observed with a closer interest the +gradual change that had come over this old friend of his. And he was +proud of it, too; for had it not been partly of his doing? + +"One does not breathe free air here," Brand continued, rather +absently--as if his mental vision was fixed on the greater spaces beyond +the seas. "With a new sort of life beginning, wouldn't it be better to +start it under new conditions--feeling yourself unhampered--with nothing +around to disturb even the foolishness of your dreams and hopes? Then +you could work away at your best, leaving the result to time." + +"I know perfectly what all that means," Lord Evelyn said. "You are +anxious to get away from Lind. You believe in your work, but you don't +like to be associated with him." + +"Perhaps I know a little more than you, Evelyn," said Brand, gently, "of +Lind's relation to the society. He does not represent it to me at all. +He is only one of its servants, like ourselves. But don't let us talk +about him." + +"You _must_ talk about him," Lord Evelyn said, as he pulled out his +watch. "It is now seven. At eight you go to the initiation of Molyneux, +and you have promised to give Lind his answer to-night. Well?" + +Brand was playing idly with a pocket-pencil. After a minute or two, he +said, + +"I promised Natalie to consider this thing without any reference to her +whatever--that I would decide just as if there was no possibility of her +becoming my wife. I promised that; but it is hard to do, Evelyn. I have +tried to imagine my never having seen her, and that I had been led into +this affair solely through you. Then I do think that if you had come to +me and said that my giving up every penny I possess would forward a good +work--would do indirect benefit to a large number of people, and so +forth--I do think I could have said, 'All right, Evelyn; take it.' I +never cared much for money; I fancy I could get on pretty well on a +sovereign a week. I say that if you had come to me with this request--" + +"Precisely," Lord Evelyn said, quickly. "You would have said yes, if I +had come to you. But because it is Lind, whom you distrust, you fall +away from the height of self-sacrifice, and regard the proposal from the +point of view of the Waldegrave Club. Mind you, I am not counselling you +one way or the other. I am only pointing out to you that it is your +dislike of Lind that prevents your doing what you otherwise would have +done." + +"Very well," said the other, boldly. "Have I not reason to distrust him? +How can I explain his conduct and his implied threats except on the +supposition that he has been merely playing with me, as far as his +daughter is concerned; and that as soon as I had handed over this +property I should find it out? Oh, it is a very pretty scheme +altogether! This heap of English money transferred to the treasury; Lind +at length achieving his ambition of being put on the Council; Natalie +carried off to Italy; and myself granted the honor of stepping into +Lind's shoes in Lisle Street. On the other hand: 'Refuse, and we pack +you off to America.' Now, you know, Evelyn, one does not like to be +threatened into anything!" + +"Then you have decided to say, No?" + +He did not answer for a second or two; when he did, his manner was quite +changed. + +"I rather think I know what both you and Natalie would have me do, +although you won't say so explicitly. And if you and she had come to me +with this proposal, do you think there would have been any difficulty? I +should have been satisfied if she had put her hand in mine, and said, +'Thank you.' Then I should have reminded her that she was sacrificing +something too." + +He relapsed into silence again; Lord Evelyn was vaguely conscious that +the minutes were passing by, and that his friend seemed as far off as +ever from any decision. + +"You remember the old-fashioned rose-garden, Evelyn?" + +"At the beeches? Yes." + +"Don't you think Natalie would like the view from that side of the +house? And if she chose that side, I was thinking of having a +conservatory built all the length of the rooms, with steps opening out +into the rose-garden. She could go out there for a stroll of a morning." + +So these had been his dreams. + +"If I go to America," he said presently, "I should expect you to look +after the old place a little bit. You might take your sisters there +occasionally, and turn them loose; it wants a woman's hand here and +there. Mrs. Alleyne would put you all right; and of course I should send +Waters down, and give up those rooms in Buckingham Street." + +"But I cannot imagine your going to America, somehow," Lord Evelyn +said. "Surely there is plenty for you to do here." + +"I will say this of Lind, that he is not an idle talker. What he says he +means. Besides, Molyneux can take up my work in the North; he is the +very man." + +Again silence. It was now half-past seven. + +"I wish, though, it had been something more exciting," Brand said. "I +should not have minded having a turn at the Syrian business; I am not +much afraid of risking my neck. There is not much danger in +Philadelphia." + +"But look here, Brand," said Lord Evelyn, regarding him attentively. +"You are speaking with great equanimity about your going to America; +possibly you might like the change well enough; but do I understand you +that you are prepared to go alone?" + +Brand looked up; he understood what was meant. + +"If I am ordered--yes." + +He held out his right hand; on the third finger there was a massive gold +ring--a plain hoop, without motto or design whatever. + +"There," said he, "is the first ring I ever wore. It was given to me +this afternoon, to remind me of a promise; and that promise is to me +more binding than a hundred oaths." + +He rose with a sigh. + +"Ah, well, Evelyn, whatever happens we will not complain. There have +been compensations." + +"But you have not told me what answer you mean to give to Lind." + +"Suppose I wait until I see him before deciding?" + +"Then you will say, No. You have allowed your distrust of him to become +a sort of mania, and the moment you see him the mere sight of him will +drive you into antagonism." + +"I tell you what I wish I could do, Evelyn," said the other, laughing: +"I wish I could turn over everything I have got to you, and escape +scot-free to America and start my own life free and unencumbered." + +"And alone?" + +His face grew grave again. + +"There is nothing possible else!" said he. + +It was nearly eight o'clock when he left. As he walked along Piccadilly, +a clear and golden twilight was shining over the trees in the Green +Park. All around him was the roar of the London streets; but it was not +that that he heard. Was it not rather the sound of a soft, low voice, +and the silvery notes of the zither? His memory acted as a sea-shell, +and brought him an echo from other days and other climes. + + "Behold the beautiful night--the wind sleeps drowsily--the silent + shores slumber in the dark: + + "Sul placido elemento + Vien meco a navigar! + + "The soft wind moves--as it stirs among the leaves--it moves and + dies--among the murmur of the water: + + "Lascia l'amico tetto, + Vien meco a navigar! + + "Now on the spacious mantle--of the already darkening heavens--see, + oh the shining wonder--how the white stars tremble: + + "Sul l'onde addormentate + Vien meco a navigar!" + +This was the voice that he heard amidst the roar of the London streets. +Would he hear it far away on the wide Atlantic, with the shores of +England hidden behind the mists of rain? To-night was to decide what the +future of his life was to be. + +If Natalie had appeared at this moment, and said to him, "Dearest, let +it be as my father wishes;" or if Lord Evelyn had frankly declared to +him that it was his duty to surrender his possessions to this Society to +which he had devoted his life, there would have been not a moment's +hesitation. But now he was going to see a man whom he suspected and was +inclined to hate, and his nature began to harden. It would be a question +between one man of the world and another. Sentiment would be put aside. +He would no longer be played with. A man should be master of his own +affairs. + +This was what he said to himself. But he had quite forgotten his +determination to consider this matter as if no Natalie existed; and his +resolve to exclude sentiment altogether did not interfere with the fact +that always, if unconsciously, there remained in his mind a certain +picture he had been dreaming a good deal about of late. It was a picture +of an old-fashioned rose-garden in the light of an English summer +morning, with a young wife walking there, herself taller and fairer than +any flower. Would she sing, in her gladness, the songs of other lands, +to charm the sweet English air? There was that one about _O dolce +Napoli!--o suol beato!_-- + +When he got to Lisle Street, every one had arrived except Molyneux +himself. Mr. Lind was gravely polite to him. Of course no mention could +then be made about private affairs; the talk going on was all about the +East, and how certain populations were faring. + +Presently the pink-faced farmer-agitator was ushered in, looking a +little bit alarmed. But this frightened look speedily disappeared, and +gave place to one of mild astonishment, as he appeared to recognize the +faces of one or two of those in the room. The business of the evening, +so far as the brief formalities were concerned, was speedily got over, +and five of the members of the small assembly immediately left. + +"Now, Mr. Molyneux," said Ferdinand Lind, pleasantly, "Mr. Brand and I +have some small private matters to talk over: will you excuse us if we +leave you for a few minutes? Here are some articles of our association +which you may look over in the mean time. May I trouble you to follow +me, Mr. Brand?" + +Brand followed him into an inner and smaller room, and sat down. + +"You said you would have your mind made up to-day with regard to the +proposal I put before you," Mr. Lind observed, with a matter-of-fact +air, as he drew in his chair to the small table. + +Brand simply nodded, and said "Yes." He was measuring his man. He +thought his manner was a good deal too suave. + +"But allow me to say, my dear Mr. Brand, that, as far I am concerned, +there is no hurry. Have you given yourself time? It is a matter of +moment; one should consider." + +"I have considered." + +His tone was firm: one would have thought he had never had any +hesitation at all. But his decision had not been definitely arrived at +until, some quarter of an hour before, he had met Ferdinand Lind face to +face. + +"I may say at once that I prefer to remain in my present grade." + +He was watching Lind as he spoke. There was a slight, scarcely +perceptible, movement of the eyebrows; that was all. The quiet courtesy +of his manner remained undisturbed. + +"That is your decision, then?" he said, just as if some trifling matter +had been arranged. + +"Perhaps I need not bother you with my reasons," Brand continued, +speaking slowly and with precision, "but there are several." + +"I have no doubt you have given the subject serious consideration," +said Mr. Lind, without expressing any further interest or curiosity. + +Now this was not at all what George Brand wanted. He wanted to have his +suspicions allayed or confirmed. He wanted to let this man know how he +read the situation. + +"One reason I may as well name to you, Mr. Lind," said he, being forced +to speak more plainly. "If I were to marry, I should like to give my +wife a proper home. I should not like her to marry a pauper--one +dependent on the complaisance of other people. And really it has seemed +to me strange that you, with your daughter's future, your daughter's +interests to think of, should have made this proposal--" + +Lind interrupted him with a slight deprecatory motion of the hand. + +"Pardon me," said he. "Let us confine ourselves to business, if you +please." + +"I presume it is a man's business to provide for the future of his +wife," said Brand, somewhat hotly, his pride beginning to kick against +this patronizing graciousness of manner. + +"I must beg of you, my dear sir," said Mr. Lind, with the same calm +courtesy, "to keep private interests and projects entirely outside of +this matter, which relates to the Society alone, and your duty, and the +wishes of those with whom you are associated. You have decided?--very +well. I am sorry; but you are within your right." + +"How can you talk like that?" said Brand, bluntly. "Sorry that your +daughter is not to marry a beggar?" + +"I must decline to have Natalie introduced into this subject in any way +whatever," said Mr. Lind. + +"Let us drop the subject, then," said Brand, in a friendly way, for he +was determined to have some further enlightenment. "Now about Natalie. +May I ask you plainly if you have any objection to a marriage between +her and myself?" + +The answer was prompt and emphatic. + +"I have every objection. I have said before that it would be inexpedient +in many ways. It is not to be thought of." + +Brand was not surprised by this refusal; he had expected it; he had put +the question as a matter of form. + +"Now one other question, Mr. Lind, and I shall be satisfied," said he, +watching the face of the man opposite him with a keen scrutiny. "Was it +ever your intention, at any time, to give your consent to our marriage, +in any circumstances whatever?" + +Ferdinand Lind was an admirable actor. + +"Is it worth while discussing imaginary things--possibilities only?" he +said, carelessly. + +"Because, you see," continued Brand, who was not to be driven from his +point, "any plain and ordinary person, looking from the outside at the +whole affair, might imagine that you had been merely temporizing with +me, neither giving nor refusing your consent, until I had handed over +this money; and that, as you had never intended to let your daughter +marry, that was the reason why you did not care whether I retained a +penny of my own property or not." + +Lind did not flinch for an instant; nor was there the slightest trace of +surprise, or annoyance, or resentment in his look. He rose and pushed +back his chair. + +"Suppose we let outsiders think what they please, Mr. Brand," said he, +with absolute composure. "We have more serious matters to attend to." + +Brand rose also. He guessed what was coming, and he had nerved himself +to face it. The whole course of this man's action was now as clear to +him as noonday. + +"I have been considering further the suggestion I mentioned to you the +other day, that you should go over to some of the big American cities," +said Mr. Lind, almost with an indifferent air as he turned over some +papers. "We are strong there; you will find plenty of friends; but what +is wanted is cohesion, arrangement, co-operation. Now you say yourself +this Mr. Molyneux would be an admirable successor to you in the North?" + +"None better," said Brand. This sentence of banishment had been +foreseen; he knew how to encounter it when it came. + +"I think, on the whole, it would be advisable then. When could you go?" + +"I could start to-night," he said. But then, despite himself, a blush of +embarrassment mounted to his forehead, and he added quickly, "No; not +to-night. The day after to-morrow." + +"There is no need for any such great hurry," said Mr. Lind, with his +complaisant smile. "You will want much direction, many letters. Come, +shall we join your friend in the other room?" + +The two men, apparently on the best of terms, went back to Molyneux, and +the talk became general. George Brand, as he sat there, kept his right +hand shut tight, that so he could press the ring that Natalie had given +him; and when he thought of America, it was almost with a sense of +relief. She would approve; he would not betray his promise to her But +if only that one moment were over in which he should have to bid her +farewell! + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + +A GOOD-NIGHT MESSAGE. + + +Brand had nerved himself for that interview; he had determined to betray +neither surprise nor concern; he was prepared for the worst. When it was +intimated to him that hence-forth his life was to be lived out beyond +the seas, he had appeared to take it as a matter of course. Face to face +with his enemy, he would utter no protest. Then, had he not solemnly +promised to Natalie that nothing in the world should tempt him from his +allegiance? Why should he shrink from going to America, or prefer London +to Philadelphia? He had entered into a service that took no heed of such +things. + +But when he had parted from Lind and Molyneux, and got out into the +sombre glare of the night-world of London, and when there was no further +need for that forced composure, he began more clearly to recognize his +position, and his heart grew heavy. This, then, was the end of those +visions of loving companionship and constant and sustaining sympathy +with which he had dared to fill the future. He had thought little of +anything that might be demanded from him so long as he could anticipate +Natalie's approval, and be rewarded with a single glance of gratitude +from the proud, dark, beautiful eyes. What mattered it to him what +became of himself, what circumstances surrounded them, so long as he and +she were together? But now a more terrible sacrifice than any he had +dreamed of had to be made. The lady of love whom the Pilgrims had sworn +to serve was proving herself inexorable indeed: + + "--Is she a queen, having great gifts to give? + --Yea, these; that whoso hath seen her shall not live + Except to serve her sorrowing, with strange pain, + Travail and bloodshedding and bitterer tears; + And when she bids die he shall surely die. + And he shall leave all things under the sky, + And go forth naked under sun and rain, + And work and wait and watch out all his years." + +When Lord Evelyn had asked him whether he was prepared to go to America +_alone_, he had clasped the ring that Natalie had given him, and +answered "Yes." But that was as a matter of theory. It was what he might +do, in certain possible circumstances. Now that he had to face the +reality, and bethink him of the necessity of taking Natalie's hand for +the last time, his heart sank within him. + +He walked on blindly through the busy streets, seeing nothing around +him. His memory was going over the most trivial incidents connected with +Natalie, as if every look of hers, every word she had uttered, was now +become something inexpressibly precious. Were there not many things he +could carry away with him to the land beyond the seas? No distance or +time could rob him of the remembrance of that night at the opera--the +scent of white rose--her look as she gave him the forget-me-nots. Then +the beautiful shining day as they drew near to Dover, and her pride +about England, and the loosened curls of hair that blew about her neck. +On the very first evening on which he had seen her--she sitting at the +table and bending over the zither--her profile touched by the +rose-tinted light from the shade of the candle--the low, rich voice, +only half heard, singing the old, familiar, tender _Lorelei_. He felt +the very touch of her fingers on his arm when she turned to him with +reproving eyes: "_Is that the way you answer an appeal for help?_" That +poor devil of a Kirski--what had become of him? He would find out from +Reitzei; and, before leaving England, would take care that something +should be done for the luckless outcast. He should have cause to +remember all his life-long that Natalie Lind had interfered in his +behalf. + +Without knowing well how he got there, Brand found himself in Curzon +Street. He walked on, perhaps with some vague notion that he might meet +Natalie herself, until he arrived at the house. It was quite dark; there +was no light in any of the windows; Anneli had not even lit the gas-jet +in the narrow hall. He turned away from the door that he felt was now +barred against him forever, and walked back to Clarges Street. + +Lord Evelyn was out; the man did not know when he would be home again. +So Brand turned away from that door also, and resumed his aimless +wanderings, busy with those pictures of the past. At length he got down +to Buckingham Street, and almost mechanically made his way toward his +own rooms. + +He had reached his door, however, when he heard some one speaking +within. + +"I might have known," he said to himself. "That is so like Evelyn." + +It was indeed Lord Evelyn, who was chatting familiarly with old Waters. +But the moment Brand entered he ceased, and a look of anxiety, and even +alarm, appeared instantly on the fine, sensitive, expressive face. + +"What is the matter, Brand? Are you ill?" + +"No," said the other, dropping into a chair; "only tired--and worried, +perhaps. Waters, get me a biscuit and a glass of sherry. Now, when I +think of it, I ought to feel tired--I have eaten nothing since eight +o'clock this morning." + +Lord Evelyn jumped to his feet. + +"Come off at once, Brand. We will go up to the Strand and get you +something to eat. Gracious goodness, it is nearly ten o'clock!" + +"No, no, never mind. I have something to talk to you about, Evelyn." + +"But why on earth had Waters no dinner waiting for you?" + +"I did not tell him--I forgot. Never mind; I will have some supper +by-and-by. I called on you, Evelyn, about half an hour ago; I might have +known you would be here." + +Lord Evelyn paused for a second or two, while Waters came in and went +out again. Then he said, + +"I can tell by your face, Brand, that something has happened." + +"Nothing that I had not foreseen." + +"Did you consent or refuse?" + +"I refused." + +"Well?" + +"Then, as I knew he would, he suggested that I might as well get ready +to start for America as soon as possible." + +Brand was speaking in a light and scornful way; but his face was +careworn, and his eyes kept turning to the windows and the dark night +outside, as if they were looking at something far away. + +"About Natalie?" Lord Evelyn asked. + +"Oh, he was frank enough. He dropped all those roundabout phrases about +the great honor, and so forth. He was quite plain. 'Not to be thought +of.'" + +Lord Evelyn remained silent for some time. + +"I am very sorry, Brand," he said at length; and then he continued with +some hesitation--"Do you know--I have been thinking that--that though +it's a very extreme thing for a man to give up his fortune--a very +extreme thing--I can quite understand how the proposal looked to you +very monstrous at first--still, if you put that in the balance as +against a man's giving up his native country and the woman whom he is in +love with--don't you see--the happiness of people of so much more +importance than a sum of money, however large--" + +"My dear fellow," said Brand, interrupting him, "there is no such +alternative--there never was any such alternative. Do you not think I +would rather give up twenty fortunes than have to go and bid good-bye to +Natalie? It is not a question of money. I suspected before--I know +now--that Lind never meant to let his daughter marry. He would not +definitely say no to me while he thought I could be persuaded about this +money business; as soon as I refused that, he was frank and explicit +enough. I see the whole thing clearly enough now. Well, he has not +altogether succeeded." + +His eye happened to light on the ring on his finger, and the frown on +his face lifted somewhat. + +"If I could only forget Lind; if I could forget why it was that I had to +go to America, I should think far less of the pain of separation. If I +could go to Natalie, and say, 'Look at what we must do, for the sake of +something greater than our own wishes and dreams,' then I think I could +bid her good-bye without much faltering; but when you know that it is +unnecessary--that you are being made the victim of a piece of personal +revenge--how can you look forward with any great enthusiasm to the new +life that lies before you? That is what troubles me, Evelyn." + +"I cannot argue the matter with you," his friend said, looking down, and +evidently much troubled himself. "I cannot help remembering that it was +I let you in for all this--" + +"Don't say that, Evelyn," Brand broke in, quickly. "Do you think I would +have it otherwise? Once in America, I shall no doubt forget how I came +to go there. I shall have something to do." + +"I--I was going to say that--that perhaps you are not quite fair to +Lind. You impute motives that may not exist." + +Lord Evelyn flushed a little; it was almost as if he were excusing or +defending one he had no particular wish to defend; but all the same, +with some hesitation, he continued, + +"Consider Lind's position. Mind, your reading of his conduct is only +pure assumption. It is quite possible that he would be really and +extremely surprised if he knew that you fancied he had been allowing +personal feelings to sway his decision. But suppose this--suppose he is +honestly convinced that you would be of great service in America. He has +seen what you can do in the way of patient persuading of people. I know +he has plenty around him who can do the risky business--men who have +been adventurous all their lives--who would like nothing better than to +be commissioned to set up a secret printing-press next door to the +Commissary of Police in St. Petersburg. I say he has plenty of people +like that; but very few who have persistence and patience enough to do +what you have been doing in the north of England. He told me so himself. +Very well. Suppose he thinks that what you have been doing this man +Molyneux can carry on? Suppose, in short, that, if he had no daughter at +all, he would be anxious to send you to the States?" + +Brand nodded. There was no harm in letting his friend have his theory. + +"Very well. Now suppose that, having this daughter, he would rather not +have her marry. He says she is of great service to him; and his wish to +have her with him always would probably exaggerate that service, +unconsciously to himself, if it were proposed to take her away. That is +only natural." + +Brand again assented. + +"Very well. He discovers that you and she are attached to each other. +Probably he does not consider it a very serious affair, so far; but he +knows that if you remain in London it would probably become so. Now, +Natalie is a girl of firm character; she is very gentle, but she is not +a fool. If you remained in London she would probably marry you, whether +her father liked it or not, if she thought it was right. He knows that; +he knows that the girl is capable of acting on her own judgment. Now put +the two things together. Here is this opportune service on which you can +be sent. That, according to his view, will be a good thing of itself; it +will also effectually prevent a marriage which he thinks would be +inexpedient. Don't you see that there may be no personal revenge or +malice in the whole affair? He may consider he is acting quite rightly, +with regard to the best interests of everybody concerned." + +"I am sick of him, Evelyn--of hearing of him--of thinking of him," Brand +said, impatiently. "Come, let us talk of something else. I wish the +whole business of starting for America were over, and I had only the +future to think about." + +"That is not likely," said Lord Evelyn, gently. "You cannot cut +yourself away from everything like that. There will be _some_ memories." + +Waters here appeared with a tray, and speedily placed on the table a +lobster, some oysters, and a bottle of Chablis. + +"There you are, Evelyn; have some supper." + +"Not unless you have some." + +"By-and-by--" + +"No, now." + +So the two friends drew in their chairs. + +"I have been thinking," said Lord Evelyn--with a slight flush, for he +was telling a lie--"I have been thinking for some time back I should +like to go to America for a year or two. There are some political phases +I should like to study." + +Brand looked at him. + +"You never thought of it before to-night. But it is like you to think of +it now." + +"Oh, I assure you," said the other, hastily, "there are points of great +interest in the political life of America that one could only properly +study on the spot--hearing the various opinions, don't you know--and +seeing how the things practically work. I should have gone long before +now, but that I dreaded the passage across. When do you go?" + +"It is not settled yet." + +"What line shall you go by?" + +"I don't know." + +Lord Evelyn paused for a moment; then he said, + +"I'll go with you, Brand." + +Well, he had not the heart even to protest; for he thoroughly understood +the generous friendship that had prompted such an offer. He might +remonstrate afterward; now he would not. On the contrary, he began to +speak of his experience of the various lines; of the delight of the +voyage to any one not abnormally sensitive to sea-sickness; of the +humors of the bagmen; of the occupations and amusements on board; of +dolphins, fog-horns, icebergs, rope-quoits, grass-widows, and the +chances of poker. It was all a holiday excursion, then? The two friends +lit their cigars and went back to their arm-chairs. The tired and +haggard look on George Brand's face had for the moment been banished. + +But by-and-by he said, rather absently, + +"I suppose, hereafter, Natalie and you will have many a talk over what +has happened. And you will go there just as usual, and spend the +evening, and hear her read, or listen to her singing with the zither. It +seems strange. Perhaps she will be able to forget altogether--to cut +this unhappy episode out of her life, as it were." Then he added, as if +speaking to himself, "No, she is not likely to forget." + +Lord Evelyn looked up. + +"In the mean time, does she know about your going?" + +"I presume not--not yet. But I must see her and tell her unless, indeed, +Lind should try to prevent that too. He might lay injunctions on her +that she was not to see me again." + +"That is true," his friend said. "He might command. But the question is +whether she would obey. I have known Natalie Lind longer than you have. +She is capable of thinking and acting for herself." + +Nothing further was said on this point; they proceeded to talk of other +matters. It was perhaps a quarter of an hour afterward--close on eleven +o'clock--that Waters knocked at the door and then came into the room. + +"A letter for you, sir." + +A quick glance at the envelope startled him. + +"How did you get it?" he said instantly. + +"A girl brought it, sir, in a cab. She is gone again. There was no +answer, she said." + +Waters withdrew. Brand hastily opened the letter, and read the following +lines, written in pencil, apparently with a trembling hand: + +"Dearest,--I spent this evening with Madame Potecki. My father came for +me, and on the way home has told me something of what has occurred. It +was for the purpose of telling me that you and I must not meet +again--never, never. My own, I cannot allow you to pass a single night, +or a single hour, thinking such a thing possible. Have I not promised to +you? When it is your wish to see me, come to me: I am yours. Good-night, +and Heaven guard you! + + "NATALIE." + +George Brand turned to his friend. + +"This," said he; but his lip trembled, and he stopped for a second. Then +he continued: "This is a message from her, Evelyn. And I know what poor +old Calabressa would say of it, if he were here. He would say: 'This is +what might have been expected from the daughter of Natalie Berezolyi!'" + +"She knows, then?" + +"Yes," said he, still looking at the hastily written lines in pencil, +"and it is as you imagined. Her father has told her we must not see +each other again, and she has refused to be bound by any such +injunction. I rather fancy she thinks he must have conveyed the same +intimation to me; at all events, she has written at once to assure me +that she will not break her promise to me. It was kindly meant; was it +not? I wish Anneli had waited for a second." + +He folded up the letter and put it in his pocket-book: it was one more +treasure he should carry with him to America. But when, later on, Evelyn +had left, he took it out again, and re-read again and again the +irregular, hurried, pencilled lines, and thought of the proud, quick, +generous spirit that had prompted them. And was she still awake and +thinking? And could her heart hear, through the silence of the night, +the message of love and gratitude that he sent her? "_Good-night, and +Heaven guard you!_" It had been a troubled and harassing day for him; +but this tender good-night message came in at the close of it like a +strain of sweet music that he would carry with him into the land of +dreams. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX. + +SOME TREASURES. + + +The next morning Natalie was sitting alone in the little dining-room, +dressed ready to go out. Perhaps she had been crying a little by +herself; but at all events, when she heard the sound of some one being +admitted at the front-door and coming into the passage, she rose, with a +flush of pleasure and relief appearing on her pale and saddened face. It +was Madame Potecki. + +"Ah, it is so good of you to come early," said Natalie to her friend, +with a kind of forced cheerfulness. "Shall we start at once? I have been +thinking and thinking myself into a state of misery; and what is the use +of that?" + +"Let me look at you," said the prompt little music mistress, taking both +her hands, and regarding her with her clear, shrewd blue eyes. "No; you +are not looking well. The walk will do you good, my dear. Come away, +then." + +But Natalie paused in the passage, with some appearance of +embarrassment. Anneli was standing by the door. + +"Remember this, Anneli; if any one calls and wishes to see me--and +particularly wishes to see me--you will not say, 'My mistress is gone +out;' you will say, 'My mistress is gone to the South Kensington Museum +with Madame Potecki.' Do you understand that, Anneli?" + +"Yes, Fraulein; certainly." + +Then they left, going by way of the Park. And the morning was fresh and +bright; the energetic little Polish lady was more talkative and cheerful +than ever; the girl with her had only to listen, with as much appearance +of interest as was possible, considering that her thoughts were so apt +to wonder away elsewhither. + +"My dear, what a lovely morning for us to go and look at my treasures! +The other day I was saying to myself, 'There is my adopted daughter +Natalie, and I have not a farthing to leave her. What is the use of +adopting a child if you have nothing to leave her? Then I said to +myself, 'Never mind; I will teach her my theory of living; that will +make her richer than a hundred legacies will do.' Dear, dear! that was +all the legacy my poor husband left to me." + +She passed her hand over her eyes. + +"Don't you ever marry a man who has anything to do with politics, my +child. Many a time my poor Potecki used to say to me, 'My angel, +cultivate contentment; you may have to live on it some day.'" + +"And you have taken his advice, madame; you are very content." + +"Why? Because I have my theory. They think that I am poor. It is poor +Madame Potecki, who earns her solitary supper by 'One, two, three, four; +one, two, three, four;' who has not a treasure in the world--except a +young Hungarian lady, who is almost a daughter to her. Well, well; but +you know my way of thinking, my dear, you laugh at it; I know you do. +You say, 'That mad little Madame Potecki.' But some day I will convince +you." + +"I am willing to be taught now, madame--seriously. Is it not wise to be +content?" + +"I am more than content, my dear; I am proud, I am vain. When I think of +all the treasures that belong to the public, and to me as one of the +public--the Turner landscapes in the National Gallery; the books and +statues in the British Museum; the bronzes and china and jewellery at +South Kensington--do you not think, my dear, that I am thankful I have +no paltry little collection in my own house that I should be ashamed of? +Then look at the care that is taken of them. I have no risk. I am not +disheartened for a day because a servant has broken my best piece of +Nankin blue. I have no trouble and no thought; it is only when I have a +little holiday that I say to myself, 'Well, shall I go and see my +Rembrandts? Or shall I look over my cases of Etruscan rings? Or shall I +go and feast my eyes on the _bleu de roi_ of a piece of jewelled +Sevres?' Oh, my love!" + +She clasped her hands in ecstasy. Her volubility had outrun itself and +got choked. + +"I will show you three vases," said she, presently, in almost a solemn +way--"I will show you three vases, in white and brown crackle, and put +all the color in the whole of my collection to shame. My dear, I have +never seen in the world anything so lovely--the soft cream-white ground, +the rich brown decoration--the beautiful, bold, graceful shape; and they +only cost sixty pounds!--sixty pounds for three, and they are worth a +kingdom! Why--But really, my dear Natalie, you walk too fast. I feel as +if I were being marched off to prison!" + +"Oh, I beg your pardon!" said the girl, laughing. "I am always +forgetting; and papa scolds me often enough for it." + +"Have you heard what I told you about those priceless vases in the South +Kensington?" + +"I am most anxious to see them, I assure you." + +"My blue-and-white," Madame Potecki continued, seriously, "I am afraid +is not always of the best. There are plenty of good pieces, it is true; +but they are not the finest feature of the collection. Oh! the Benares +brocades--I had forgotten them. Ah, my dear, these will make you open +your eyes!" + +"But don't you get bewildered, madame, with having to think of so many +possessions?" said Natalie, respectfully. + +"No," said the other, in a matter-of-fact way; "I take them one by one. +I pay a morning call here, a morning call there, when I have no +appointments, just to see that everything is going on well." + +Presently she said, + +"Ah, well, my dear, we are poor weak creatures. Here and there, in my +wanderings I have met things that I almost coveted; but see what an +impossible, monstrous collection they would make! Let me think, now. The +Raphael at Dresden; two Titian portraits in the Louvre; the Venus of +Milo--not the Medici one at all; I would not take it; I swear I would +not accept it, that trivial little creature with the yellow skin!" + +"My dear friend, the heavens will fall on you!" her companion exclaimed. + +"Wait a moment," said the little music-mistress, reflectively. "I have +not completed my collection. There is a Holy Family of Botticelli's--I +forget where I saw it. And the bust of the Empress Messalina in the +Uffizi: did you ever notice it, Natalie?" + +"No." + +"Do not forget it when you are in Florence again. You won't believe any +of the stories about her when you see the beautiful refined face; only +don't forget to remark how flat the top of her head is. Well, where are +we, my dear? The bronze head of the goddess in the Castellani +collection: I would have that; and the fighting Temeraire. Will these +do? But then, my dear, even if one had all these things, see what a +monstrous collection they would make. What should I do with them in my +lodgings, even if I had room? No; I must be content with what I have." + +By this time they had got down into South Kensington and were drawing +near one of Madame Potecki's great treasure houses. + +"Then, you see, my dear Natalie," she continued, "my ownership of these +beautiful things we are going to see is not selfish. It can be +multiplied indefinitely. You may have it too; any one may have it, and +all without the least anxiety!" + +"That is very pleasant also," said the girl, who was paying less heed +now. The forced cheerfulness that had marked her manner at starting had +in great measure left her. Her look was absent; she blindly followed her +guide through the little wicket, and into the hushed large hall. + +The silence was grateful to her; there was scarcely any one in the +place. While Madame Potecki busied herself with some catalogue or other, +the girl turned aside into a recess, to look at a cast of the effigy on +the tomb of Queen Eleanor of Castile. A tombstone stills the air around +it. Even this gilt plaster figure was impressive; it had the repose of +the dead. + +But she had not been standing there for a couple of seconds when she +heard a well-known voice behind her. + +"Natalie!" + +She knew. There was neither surprise nor shamefacedness in her look when +she turned and saw George Brand before her. Her eyes were as fearless as +ever when they met his; and they were glad, too, with a sudden joy; and +she said, quickly, + +"Ah, I thought you would come. I told Anneli." + +"It was kind of you--and brave--to let me come to see you." + +"Kind?" she said. "How could I do otherwise?" + +"But you are looking tired, Natalie." + +"I did not sleep much last night. I was thinking." + +The tears started to her eyes; she impatiently brushed them aside. + +"I know what you were thinking. That is why I came so early to see you. +You were blaming yourself for what has happened. That is not right. You +are not to blame at all. Do you think I gave you that promise for +nothing?" + +"You were always like that," she said in a low voice. "Very generous and +unselfish. Yes, I--I--was miserable; I thought if you had never known +me--" + +"If I had never known you! You think that would be a desirable thing for +me!--" + +But at this moment the hurried, anxious, half-whispered conversation had +to cease, for Madame Potecki came up. Nor was she surprised to find Mr. +Brand there. On the contrary, she said that her time was limited, and +that she could not expect other people to care for old porcelain as much +as she did; and if Mr. Brand would take her dear daughter Natalie to see +some pictures in the rooms up-stairs, she would come and find her out +by-and-by. + +"Not at all, dear madame," said Natalie, with some slight flush. "No. We +will go with you to see the three wonderful vases." + +So they went, and saw the three crackle vases, and many another piece of +porcelain and enamel and bronze; but always the clever little Polish +woman took care that she should be at some other case, so that she could +not overhear what these two had to say to each other. And they had +plenty to say. + +"Why, Natalie, where is your courage? What is the going to America? It +cannot be for ever and ever." + +"But even then," she said, in a low, hesitating voice. "If you were +never to see me again, you would blame me for it all. You would regret." + +"How can I regret that my life was made beautiful to me, if only for a +time? It was worth nothing to me before. And you are forgetting all +about the ring, and my promise to you." + +This light way of talking did not at all deceive her. What had been +torturing her all the night long was the fancy, the suspicion, that her +father was sending her lover to America, not solely with a view to the +work he should have to undertake there, but to insure a permanent +separation between herself and him. That was the cruel bit of it. And +she more than ever admired the manliness of this man, because he would +make no complaint to her. He had uttered no word of protest, for fear of +wounding her. He did not mention her father to her at all; but merely +treated this project of going to America as if it were a part of his +duty that had to be cheerfully accepted. + +"After I have once said good-bye to you Natalie" said he, "it will not +be so bad for me. I shall have my work." + +"When do you go?" she asked, with rather a white face. + +"I don't know yet. It may be a matter of days. You will let me see you +again, my darling--soon?" + +"I shall be here every morning, if you wish it" she answered. + +"To-morrow, then?" + +"To-morrow, at eleven. Anneli will come with me. I should have waited in +on the hope of seeing you this morning; but it was an old engagement +with Madame Potecki. Ah, how good she is! Do you see how she pretends to +be interested in those things?" + +"I will send her a present of some old china before I leave England," +said Brand. + +"No, no," said Natalie, with a faint smile appearing on the sad face. +"It would destroy her theory. She does not care for anything at home so +long as she possesses these public treasures. She is very content. +Indeed, she earns enough to be charitable. She has many poor +dependents." + +By-and-by Madame Potecki, with great evident reluctance, confessed that +she had to return, as one of her pupils would be at her house by +half-past twelve. But would not Mr. Brand take her dear adopted child to +see some of the pictures? It was a pity that she should be dragged away, +and so forth. + +But Natalie promptly put an end to these suggestions by saying that she +would prefer to return with Madame Potecki; and, it being now past +twelve, as soon as they got outside she engaged a cab. George Brand saw +them off, and then returned into the building. He wished to look again +at the objects she had looked at, to recollect every word she had +uttered; to recall the very tones in which she had spoken. And this +place was so hushed and quiet. + +Meanwhile, as the occupants of the cab were journeying northward, +Natalie took occasion to say to her companion, with something of a +heightened color, + +"You must not imagine, dear madame, that I expected to see Mr. Brand at +the Museum when I promised to go with you." + +"But what if you had expected, my child?" said the good-natured +music-mistress. "What harm is there?" + +"But this morning I did expect him to come, and that is why I left the +message with Anneli," continued the girl. "Because, do you know, madame, +he is going to America; and when he goes I may not see him for many +years." + +"My child!" the demonstrative little woman exclaimed, catching hold of +the girl's hand. + +But Natalie was not inclined to be sympathetic at this moment. + +"Now I wish you, dear Madame Potecki," she continued in a firm voice, +"to do me a favor. I would rather not speak to my father about Mr. +Brand. I wish you to tell him for me that so long as Mr. Brand remains +in England I shall continue to see him; and that as I do not choose he +should come to my father's house, I shall see him as I saw him this +morning." + +"My love, my love, what a frightful duty! Is it necessary?" + +"It is necessary that my father should know, certainly." + +"But what responsibility!" + +"You have no responsibility whatever. Anneli will go with me. All that I +ask of you, dear Madame Potecki, is to take the message to my father. +You will; will you not?" + +"More than that I will do for you," said the little woman, boldly. "I +see there is unhappiness; you are suffering, my child. Well, I will +plunge into it; I will see your father: this cannot be allowed. It is a +dangerous thing to interfere--who knows better than I? But to sit near +you is to be inspired; to touch your hand is to gain the courage of a +giant. Yes, I will speak to your father; all shall be put right." + +The girl scarcely heard her. + +"There is another thing I would ask of you," she said, slowly and +wistfully, "but not here. May I come to you when the lesson is over?" + +"At two: yes." + +So it was that Natalie called on her friend shortly after two o'clock +and was shown into the little parlor. She was rather pale. She sat down +at one side of the table. + +"I wished to ask your advice, dear Madame Potecki," she said, in a low +voice, and with her eyes down. "Now you must suppose a case. You must +suppose that--that two people love each other--better--better than +anything else in the world, and that they are ready to sacrifice a +great deal for each other. Well, the man is ordered away! it is a +banishment from his own country, perhaps forever; and he is very brave +about it, and will not complain. Now you must suppose that the girl is +very miserable about his going away, and blames herself; and +perhaps--perhaps wishes--to do something to show she understands his +nobleness--his devotion; and she would do anything in the world, Madame +Potecki--to prove her love to him--" + +"But, child, child, why do you tremble so?" + +"I wish you to tell me, Madame Potecki--I wish you to tell +me--whether--you would consider it unwomanly--unmaidenly--for her to go +and say to him, 'You are too brave and unselfish to ask me to go with +you. Now I offer myself to you. If you must go, why not I--your wife?" + +Madame Potecki started up in great alarm. + +"Natalie, what do you mean?" + +"I only--wished to--to ask--what you would think." + +She was very pale, and her lips were tremulous; but she did not break +down. Madame Potecki was apparently far more agitated than she was. + +"My child, my child, I am afraid you are on the brink of some wild +thing!" + +"Is that that I have repeated to you what a girl ought to do?" Natalie +said, almost calmly. "Do you think it is what my mother would have done, +Madame Potecki? They have told me she was a brave woman." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + +IN A GARDEN AT POSILIPO. + + + "--Prends mon coeur, me dit-elle, + Oui, mais a la chapelle, + Sois mon petit.... + --Plait-il + Ton petit? + --Sois mon petit mari!" + +--It was Calabressa who was gayly humming to himself; and it was well +that he could amuse himself with his _chansons_ and his cigarettes, for +his friend Edwards was proving anything but an attentive companion. The +tall, near-sighted, blond-faced man from the British Museum was far too +much engrossed by the scene around him. They were walking along the +quays at Naples; and it so happened that at this moment all the +picturesque squalor and lazy life of the place were lit up by the glare +reflected from a wild and stormy sunset. The tall, pink-fronted houses; +the mules and oxen with their brazen yokes and tinkling bells; the +fruit-sellers, and fish-sellers, and water-carriers, in costumes of many +hues; the mendicant friars with their cloak and hood of russet-brown; +the priests black and clean-shaven; the groups of women, swarthy of +face, with head-dresses of red or yellow, clustered round the stalls; +the children, in rags of brown, and scarlet, and olive-green, lying +about the pavement as if artists had posed them there--all these formed +a picture which was almost bewildering in its richness of color, and was +no doubt rendered all the more brilliant because of the powerful +contrast with the dark and driven sea. For the waters out there were +racing in before a stiff breeze, and springing high on the fortresses +and rocks; and the clouds overhead were seething and twisting, with many +a sudden flash of orange; and then, far away beyond all this color and +motion and change, rose the vast and gloomy bulk of Vesuvius, +overshadowed and thunderous, as if the mountain were charged with a +coming storm. + +Calabressa grew impatient, despite his careless song. + + "--Me seras tu fidele.... + --Comme une tourterelle. + --Eh bieu, ca va.... + Ca va! + --Ca me va! + --Comme ca, ca me va! + +--_Diable_, Monsieur Edouarts! You are very silent. You do not know +where we are going, perhaps?" + +Edwards started, as if he were waking from a reverie. + +"Oh yes, Signor Calabressa," said he, "I am not likely to forget that. +Perhaps I think more seriously about it than you. To you it is nothing. +But I cannot forget, you see, that you and I are practically conniving +at a murder." + +"Hush, hush, my dear friend!" said Calabressa, glancing round. "Be +discreet! And what a foolish phrase, too! You--you whose business is +merely to translate; to preach; to educate a poor devil of a +Russian--what have you to do with it? And to speak of murder! Bah! You +do not understand the difference, then, between killing a man as an act +of private anger and revenge, and executing a man for crimes against +society? My good friend Edouarts, you have lived all your life among +books, but you have not learned any logic--no!" + +Edwards was not inclined to go into any abstract argument + +"I will do what I have been appointed to do," he said, curtly; "but that +cannot prevent my wishing that it had not to be done at all." + +"And who knows?" said Calabressa, lightly. "Perhaps, if you are so +fearful about your small share, your very little share--it is no more +than that of the garcon who helps one on with his coat: is he accessary, +too, if a rogue has to be punished?--is he responsible for the sentence, +also, if he brushes the boots of the judge?--or the servant of the court +who sweeps out the room, is he guilty if there is a miscarriage of +justice? No, no; my dear friend Edouarts, do not alarm yourself. Then, I +was saying, perhaps it may not be necessary, after all. You perceived, +my friend, that when the proposal of his eminence the Cardinal was +mentioned, the Secretary Granaglia smiled, and I, thoughtless, laughed. +You perceived it, did you not?" + +By this time they were in the Chiaja, beyond the Villa Reale; and there +were fewer people about. Calabressa stopped and confronted his +companion. For the purposes of greater emphasis, he rested his right +elbow in the palm of his left hand, while his forefinger was at the +point of his nose. + +"What?" said he, in this striking attitude, "what if we were both +fools--ha? The Secretary Granaglia and myself--what if we were both +fools?" + +Calabressa abandoned his pose, linked his arm within that of his +companion, and walked on with him. + +"Come, I will implant something in your mind. I will throw out a fancy; +it may take root and flourish; if not, who is the worse? Now, if the +Council were really to entertain that proposal of Zaccatelli?" + +He regarded his friend Edouarts. + +"You observed, I say, that Granaglia smiled: to him it was ludicrous. I +laughed: to me it was farcical--the chatter of a _bavard_. The Pope +become the patron of a secret society! The priests become our friends +and allies! Very well, my friend; but listen. The little minds see what +is absurd; the great minds are serious. Granaglia is a little devil of +courage; but he is narrow; he is practical; he has no imagination. I: +what am I?--careless, useless, also a _bavard_, if you will. But it +occurred to me, after all, when I began to think--what a great man, a +great mind, might say to this proposal. Take a man like Lind: see what +he could make of it! 'Do not laugh at it any more, Calabressa,' said I +to myself, 'until you hear the opinion of wiser men than yourself.'" + +He gripped Edwards's arm tight. + +"Listen. To become the allies of the priests it is not necessary to +believe everything the priests say. On the other hand, they need not +approve all that we are doing, if only they withdraw their opposition. +Do you perceive the possibility now? Do you think of the force of that +combination? The multitudes of the Catholics encouraged to join!--the +Vatican the friend and ally of the Council of the Seven Stars!" + +He spoke the last words in a low voice, but he were a proud look. + +"And if this proposal were entertained," said Edwards, meditatively, "of +course, they would abandon this other business." + +"My good friend," said Calabressa, confidentially, "I know that Lind, +who sees things with a large vision, is against it. He consents--as you +consent to do your little outside part--against his own opinion. More; +if he had been on the Council the decree would never have been granted, +though De Bedros and a dozen of his daughters had demanded it. +'Calabressa,' he said to me, 'it will do great mischief in England if it +is known that we are connected with it.' Well, you see, all this would +be avoided if they closed with the Cardinal's offer." + +"You are sanguine, Signor Calabressa," said the other. + +"Besides, the thirty thousand lire!"' said Calabressa, eagerly. "Do you +know what that is? Ah, you English have always too much money!" + +"No doubt," said Edwards, with a smile. "We are all up to the neck in +gold." + +"Thirty thousand lire a year, and the favor of the Vatican; what fools +Granaglia and I were to laugh! But perhaps we will find that the Council +were wiser." + +They had now got out to Posilipo, and the stormy sunset had waned, +leaving the sky overclouded and dusk. Calabressa, having first looked up +and down the road, stopped by the side of a high wall, over which +projected a number of the broken, gray-green, spiny leaves of the +cactus--a hedge at the foot of the terrace above. + +"_Peste!_" said he. "How the devil is one to find it out in the dark?" + +"Find what out?" + +"My good friend," said he, in a whisper, "you are not able by chance to +see a bit of thread--a bit of red thread--tied round one of those big +leaves?" + +Edwards glanced up. + +"Not I." + +"Ah, well, we must run the risk. Perhaps by accident there may be a +meeting." + +They walked on for some time, Calabressa becoming more and more +watchful. They paused to let a man driving a wagon and a pair of oxen go +by; and then Calabressa, enjoining his companion to remain where he was, +went on alone. + +The changing sky had opened somewhat overhead, and there was a wan +twilight shining through the parted clouds. Edwards, looking after +Calabressa, could have fancied that the dark figure had disappeared like +a ghost; but the old albino had merely crossed the road, opened the one +half of a huge gate, and entered a garden. + +It was precisely like the gardens of the other villas along the +highway--cut in terraces along the steep side of the hill, with winding +pathways, and marble lions here and there, and little groves of orange +and olive and fig trees; while on one side the sheer descent was guarded +by an enormous cactus hedge. The ground was very unequal: on one small +plateau a fountain was playing--the trickling of the water the only +sound audible in the silence. + +Calabressa took out his pocket-book, and tore a leaf from it. + +"The devil!" he muttered to himself. "How is one to write in the dark?" + +But he managed to scrawl the word "Barsanti;" then he wrapped the paper +round a small pebble and approached the fountain. By putting one foot on +the edge of the stone basin beneath he could reach over to the curved +top, and there he managed to drop the missive into some aperture +concealed under the lip. He stepped back, dried his hand with his +handkerchief, and then went down one of the pathways to a lower level of +the garden. + +Here he easily found the entrance to an ordinary sort of grotto--a +narrow cave winding inward and ending in a piece of fancy rockwork down +which the water was heard to trickle. But he did not go to the end--he +stopped about half-way and listened. There was no sound whatever in the +dark, except the plash of the tiny water-fall. + +Then there was a heavy grating noise, and in the black wall before him +appeared a vertical line of orange light. This sudden gleam was so +bewildering to the eyes that Calabressa could not see who it was that +come out to him; he only knew that the stranger waited for him to pass +on into the outer air. + +"It is cooler here. To your business, friend Calabressa." + +The moment Calabressa recognized this tall, military-looking man, with +the closely cropped bullet-head and long silver-white mustache, he +whipped off his cap, and said, anxiously, + +"A thousand pardons, Excellency! a thousand pardons! Do I interrupt? May +not I see Fossati?" + +"It is unnecessary. There is much business to-night. One must breathe +the air sometimes." + +Calabressa for once had completely lost his _sang-froid_. He could not +speak for stammering. + +"I assure you, your Excellency, it is death to me to think that I +interrupt you." + +"But why did you come, then, my friend? To the point." + +"Zaccatelli," the other managed to get out. + +"Well?" + +"There was a proposal. Some days ago I saw Granaglia." + +"Well?" + +"Pardon me, Excellency. If I had known, not for worlds would I have +called you--" + +"Come, come my Calabressa," said the other, good-naturedly. "No more +apologies. What is it you have to say?--the proposal made by the +Cardinal? Yes; we know about that." + +"And it has not been accepted?--the decree remains?" + +"You waste your breath, my friend. The decree remains, certainly. We are +not children; we do not play. What more, my Calabressa?" + +But Calabressa had to collect his thoughts. Then he said, slowly, + +"It occurred to me when I was in England--there was a poor devil there +who would have thrown away his life in a useless act of revenge--well--" + +"Well, you brought him over here," said the other, interrupting him. +"Your object? Ah, Lind and you being old comrades; and Lind appearing to +you to be in a difficulty. But did Lind approve?" + +"Not quite," said Calabressa, still hesitating. "He allowed us to try. +He was doubtful himself." + +"I should have thought so," said the other, ironically. "No, good +Calabressa; we cannot accept the services of a maniac. The night has got +dark; I cannot see whether you are surprised. How do we know? The man +Kirski has been twice examined--once in Venice, once this morning, when +you went down to the _Luisa_; the reports the same. What! To have a +maniac blundering about the gates, attracting every one's notice by his +gibberish; then he is arrested with a pistol or a knife in his hand; he +talks nonsense about some Madonna; he is frightened into a confession, +and we become the laughing-stock of Europe! Impossible, impossible, my +Calabressa: where were your wits? No wonder Lind was doubtful--" + +"The man is capable of being taught," said Calabressa, humbly. + +"We need not waste more breath, my friend. To-night Lind will be +reminded why it was necessary that the execution of this decree was +intrusted to the English section: he must not send any Russian madman to +compromise us." + +"Then I must take him back, your Excellency!" + +"No; send him back--with the English scholar. You will remain in Naples, +Calabressa. There is something stirring that will interest you." + +"I am at your service, Excellency." + +"Good-night, dear friend." + +The figure beside him had disappeared almost before he had time to +return the salutation, and he was left to find his way down to the gate, +taking care not to run unawares on one of the long cactus spines. He +discovered Edwards precisely where he had left him. + +"Ah, Monsieur Edouarts, now you may clap your hands--now you may shout +an English 'hurrah!' For you, at all events, there is good news." + +"That project has been abandoned, then?" said Edwards, eagerly. + +"No, no, no!" said Calabressa, loftily; as if he had never entertained +such a possibility. "Do you think the Council is to be played with--is +to be bribed by so many and so many lire? No, no. Its decree is +inviolable." + +"Well, then?" + +"Well, then, some stupidities of our Russian friend have saved you: they +know everything, these wonderful people: they say, 'No; we will not +trust the affair to a madman.' Do you perceive? What you have to do now +is to take Kirski back to England." + +"And I am not wanted any longer?" said the other, with the same +eagerness. + +"I presume not. I am. I remain in Naples. For you, you are free. Away +to England! I give you my blessing; and to-night--to-night you will give +me a bottle of wine." + +But presently he added, as they still walked on, + +"Friend Edouarts, do you think I should be humiliated because my little +plan has been refused? No: it was born of idleness. My freedom was new +to me; over in England I had nothing to do. And when Lind objected, I +talked him over. _Peste_, if those fellows of Society had not got at the +Russian, all might have been well." + +"You will forgive my pointing out," said Edwards, in quite a facetious +way, "that all would not have been so well with me, for one. I am very +glad to be able to wash my hands of it. You shall have not only one but +two bottles of wine with supper, if you please." + +"Well, friend Edouarts. I bring you the good news, but I am not the +author of it. No; I must confess, I would rather have had my plan +carried out. But what matter? One does one's best from time to time--the +hours go by--at the end comes sleep, and no one can torment you more." + +They walked on for a time in silence. And now before them lay the +wonderful sight of Naples ablaze with a dusky yellow radiance in the +dark; and far away beyond the most distant golden points, high up in the +black deeps of the sky, the constant, motionless, crimson glow of +Vesuvius told them where the peaks of the mountain, themselves unseen +towered above the sea. + +By-and-by they plunged into the great murmuring city. + +"You are going back to England, Monsieur Edouarts. You will take Kirski +to Mr. Brand, he will be reinstated in his work; Englishmen do not +forget their promises. Then I have another little commission for you." + +He went into one of the small jeweller's shops, and, after a great deal +of haggling--for his purse was not heavy, and he knew the ways of his +countrymen--he bought a necklace of pink coral. It was carefully wrapped +in wool and put into a box. Then they went outside again. + +"You will give this little present, my good friend Edouarts--you will +take it, with my compliments, to my beautiful, noble child Natalie; and +you will tell her that it did not cost much, but it is only a +message--to show her that Calabressa still thinks of her, and loves, her +always." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. + +FRIEND AND SWEETHEART. + + +Madame Potecki was a useful enough adviser in the small and ordinary +affairs of every-day life, but face to face with a great emergency she +became terrified and helpless. + +"My dear, my dear," she kept repeating, in a flurried sort of way, "you +must not do anything rash--you must not do anything wild. Oh, my dear, +take care! it is so wicked for children to disobey their parents!" + +"I am no longer a child, Madame Potecki; I am a woman: I know what seems +to me just and unjust; and I only wish to do right." She was now quite +calm. She had mastered that involuntary tremulousness of the lips. It +was the little Polish lady who was agitated. + +"My dear Natalie, I will go to your father. I said I would go--even with +your message--though it is a frightful task. But how can I tell him that +you have this other project in your mind? Oh, my dear, be cautious! +don't do anything you will have to repent of in after-years!" + +"You need not tell him, dear Madame Potecki, if you are alarmed," said +the girl. "I will tell him myself, when I have come to a decision. So +you cannot say what one ought to do in such circumstances? You cannot +tell me what my mother, for example, would have done in such a case?" + +"Oh, I can; I can, my dear," said the other, eagerly. "At least I can +tell you what is best and safest. Is it not for a girl to go by her +father's advice--her father's wishes? Then she is safe. Anything else is +wild, dangerous. My dear, you are far too impulsive. You do not think of +consequences. It is all the affair of the moment with you, and how you +can do some one you love a kindness at the instant. Your heart is warm, +and you are quick to act. All the more reason, I say, that you should go +by some one else's judgment; and who can guide you better than your own +father?" + +"I know already what my father wishes," said Natalie. + +"Then why not go by that, my dear? Be sure it is the safest. Do you +think I would take it on me to say otherwise? Ah, my clear child, +romance is very beautiful at your age; but one may sacrifice too much +for it." + +"It is not a question of romance at all," said Natalie, looking down. +"It is a question of what it is right that a girl should do, in +faithfulness to one whom she loves. But perhaps it is better not to +argue it, for one sees so differently at different ages. And I am very +grateful to you, dear Madame Potecki, for agreeing to take that message +to my father; but I will tell him myself." + +She rose. The little woman came instantly and caught her by both hands. + +"Is my child going to quarrel with me because I am old and +unsympathetic?" + +"Oh no; do not think that!" said Natalie, quickly. + +"What you say is quite true, my dear; different ages see differently. +When I was at your age, perhaps I was as liable as anyone to let my +heart get the better of my head. And do I regret it?" The little woman +sighed. "Many a time they warned me against marrying one who did not +stand well with the authorities. But I--I had my opinions, too; I was a +patriot, like the rest. We were all mad with enthusiasm. Ah, the secret +meetings in Warsaw!--the pride of them!--we girls would not marry one +who was not a patriot. But that is all over now; and here am I an old +woman, with nothing left but my old masters, and my china, and my 'One, +two, three, four; one, two, three, four.'" + +Here a knock outside warned Natalie that she must leave, another pupil, +no doubt, having arrived; and so she bade good-bye to her friend, not +much enlightened or comforted by her counsel. + +That evening Mr. Lind brought Beratinsky home with him to dinner--an +unusual circumstance, for at one time Beratinsky had wished to become a +suitor for Natalie's hand, and had had that project very promptly +knocked on the head by Lind himself. Thereafter he had come but seldom +to the house, and never without a distinct invitation. On this evening +the two men talked almost exclusively between themselves, and Natalie +was not sorry to be allowed to remain an inattentive listener. She was +thinking of other things. + +When Beratinsky had gone, Lind turned to his daughter, and said to her +pleasantly, + +"Well, Natalie, what have you been about to-day?" + +"First of all," said she, regarding him with those fearless eyes of +hers, "I went to South Kensington Museum with Madame Potecki. Mr. Brand +was there." + +His manner changed instantly. + +"By appointment?" he said, sharply. + +"No," she answered. "I thought he would call here, and I told Anneli +where we had gone." + +Lind betrayed no expression of annoyance. He only said, coldly, + +"Last night I told you it was my wish that he and you should have no +further communication with each other." + +"Yes; but is it reasonable, is it fair, is it possible, papa?" she said, +forgetting for a moment her forced composure. "Do you think I can forget +why he is going away?" + +"Apparently you do not know why he is going away," her father said. "He +is going to America because his duty commands that he should; because he +has work to do there of more importance than sentimental entanglements +in this country. He understands himself the necessity of his going." + +The girl's cheeks burnt red, and she sat silent. How could she accuse +her own father of prevarication? But the crisis was a momentous one. + +"You forget, papa," she said at length, in a low voice, "that when you +returned from abroad and got Mr. Brand's letter, you came to me. You +said that if there was any further question of a--a marriage--between +Mr. Brand and myself, you would have to send him to America. I was to be +the cause of his banishment." + +"I spoke hastily--in anger," her father said, with some impatience. +"Quite apart from any such question, Mr. Brand knows that it is of great +importance some one like himself should go to Philadelphia; and at the +moment I don't see any one who could do as well. Have you anything +further to say?" + +"No, papa--except good night." She kissed him on the forehead and went +away to her own room. + +That was a night of wild unrest for Natalie Lind. It was her father +himself who had represented to her all that banishment from his native +country meant to an Englishman; and in her heart of hearts she believed +that it was through her this doom had befallen George Brand. She knew he +would not complain. He professed to her that it was only in the +discharge of an ordinary duty he was leaving England: others had +suffered more for less reason; it was nothing; why should she blame +herself? But all the same, through this long, restless, agonizing night +she accused herself of having driven him from his country and his +friends, of having made an exile of him. And again and again she put +before herself the case she had submitted to Madame Potecki; and again +and again she asked herself what her own mother would have done, with +her lover going away to a strange land. + +In the morning, long before it was light, and while as yet she had not +slept for a second, she rose, threw a dressing-gown round her, lit the +gas, and went to the little escritoire that stood by the window. Her +hand was trembling when she sat down to write, but it was not with the +cold. There was a proud look on her face. This was what she wrote: + +"My lover and husband,--You are going away from your own country, +perhaps forever; and I think it is partly through me that all this has +happened. What can I do? Only this; that I offer to go with you, if you +will take me. I am your wife; why should you go alone?"' + +There was no signature. She folded the paper, and placed it in an +envelope, and carefully locked it up. Then she put out the light and +went back to bed again, and fell into a sound, happy, contented +sleep--the untroubled sleep of a child. + +Then in the morning how bright and light-hearted she was! + +Anneli could not understand this change that had suddenly come over her +young mistress. She said little, but there was a happy light on her +face; she sung "Du Schwert an meiner Linken" in snatches, as she was +dressing her hair; and she presented Anneli with a necklace of Turkish +silver coins. + +She was down at South Kensington Museum considerably before eleven +o'clock. She idly walked Anneli through the various rooms, pointing out +to her this and that; and as the little Dresden maid had not been in the +Museum before, her eyes were wide open at the sight of such beautiful +things. She was shown masses of rich tapestry and cases of Japanese +lacquer-work; she was shown collections of ancient jewellery and glass; +she went by sunny English landscapes, and was told the story of solemn +cartoons. In the midst of it all George Brand appeared; and the little +German girl, of her own accord, and quite as deftly as Madame Potecki, +devoted herself to the study of some screens of water-colors, just as if +she were one of the Royal Academy pupils. + +"We have been looking over Madame Potecki's treasures once more," said +Natalie. He was struck by the happy brightness of her face. + +"Ah, indeed!" said he; and he went and brought a couple of chairs, that +together they might regard, if they were so minded, one of those vast +cartoons. "Well, I have good news, Natalie. I do not start until a clear +week hence. So we shall have six mornings here--six mornings all to +ourselves. Do you know what that means to me?" + +She took the chair he offered her. She did not look appalled by this +intelligence of his early departure. + +"It means six more days of happiness: and do you not think I shall look +back on them with gratitude? And there is not to be a word said about my +going. No; it is understood that we cut off the past and the future for +these six days. We are here; we can speak to each other; that is +enough."' + +"But how can one help thinking of the future?" said she, with a mock +mournfulness. "You are going away alone." + +"No, not quite alone." + +She looked up quickly. + +"Why, you know what Evelyn is--the best-hearted of friends," he said to +her. "He insists on going over to America with me, and even talks of +remaining a year or two. He pretends to be anxious to study American +politics." + +He could not understand why she laughed--though it was a short, quick, +hysterical laugh, very near to tears. + +"You remind me of one of Mr. Browning's poems," she said, half in +apology. "It is about a man who has a friend and a sweetheart. You don't +remember it, perhaps?" + +He thought for a moment. + +"The fact is," he said, "that when I think of Browning's poems, all +along the line of them, there are some of them seem to burn like fire, +and I cannot see the others." + +"This is a very modest little one," said she. "It is a poor poet +starving in a garret; and he tells you he has a friend beyond the sea; +and he knows that if he were to fall ill, and to wake up out of his +sickness, he would find his friend there, tending him like the gentlest +of nurses, even though he got nothing but grumblings about his noisy +boots. And the--the poor fellow--" + +She paused for a second. + +"He goes on to tell about his sweetheart--who has ruined him--to whom he +has sacrificed his life and his peace and fame--and what would she do? +He says, + + "'She + --I'll tell you--calmly would decree + That I should roast at a slow fire, + If that would compass her desire + And make her one whom they invite + To the famous ball to-morrow night.' + +That is--the difference--between a friend and a sweetheart--" + +He did not notice that she spoke rather uncertainly, and that her eyes +were wet. + +"What do you mean, Natalie?" + +"That it is a good thing for you that you have a friend. There is one, +at all events--who will--who will not let you go away alone." + +"My darling!" he said, "what new notion is this you have got into your +head? You do not blame yourself for that too? Why, you see, it is a very +simple thing for Lord Evelyn, who is an idle man, and has no particular +ties binding him, to spend a few months in the States; and when he once +finds out that the voyage across is one of the pleasantest holidays a +man can take, I have no doubt I shall see him often enough. Now, don't +let us talk any more about that--except this one point. Have you +promised your father that you will not write to me?" + +"Oh no; how could I?" + +"And may I write to you?" + +"I shall live from week to week expecting your letters," she said +simply. + +"Then we shall not say another word about it," said he, lightly. "We +have six days to be together: no one can rob us of them. Come, shall we +go and have a look at the English porcelain that is on this floor? We +have whole heaps of old Chelsea and Crown Derby and that kind of thing +at the Beeches: I think I must try and run down there before I go, and +send you some. What use is it to me?" + +"Oh no, I hope you won't do that," she said quickly, as she rose. + +"You don't care about it, perhaps?" + +She seemed embarrassed for a moment. + +"For old china?" she said, after a moment. "Oh yes, I do. But--but--I +think you may find something happen that would make it unnecessary--I +mean it is very kind of you--but I hope you will not think of sending me +any." + +"What do you mean? What is about to happen?" + +"It is all a mystery and a secret as yet," she said, with a smile. She +seemed so much more light-hearted than she had been the day before. + +Then, as they walked by those cases, and admired this or that, she would +recur to this forth-coming departure of his, despite of him. And she was +not at all sad about it. She was curious; that was all. Was there any +difficulty in getting a cabin at short notice? It was from Liverpool +the big steamers sailed, was it not? And it was a very different thing, +she understood, travelling in one of those huge vessels, and crossing +the Channel in a little cockle-shell. He would no doubt make many +friends on board. Did single ladies ever make the voyage? Could a single +lady and her maid get a cabin to themselves? It would not be so very +tedious, if one could get plenty of books. And so forth, and so forth. +She did not study the Chelsea shepherdesses very closely. + +"I'll tell you what I wish you would do, Natalie," said he. + +"I will do it," she answered. + +"When Lord Evelyn comes back--some day I wish you would take Anneli with +you for a holiday--and Evelyn would take you down to have a look over +the Beeches. You could be back the same night. I should like you to see +my mother's portrait." + +She did not answer. + +"Will you do that?" + +"You will know before long," she said, in a low voice, "why I need not +promise that to you. But that, or anything else I am willing to do, if +you wish it." + +The precious moments sped quickly. And as they walked through the almost +empty rooms--how silent these were, with the occasional foot-falls on +the tiled floors, and once or twice the distant sounding of a bell +outside!--again and again he protested against her saying another word +about his going away. What did it matter? Once the pain of parting was +over, what then? He had a glad work before him. She must not for a +moment think she had anything to do with it. And he could not regret +that he had ever met her, when he would have these six mornings of happy +intercommunion to think over, when the wide seas separated them? + +"Natalie," said he, reproachfully, "do you forget the night you and I +heard _Fidelio_ together? And you think I shall regret ever having seen +you." + +She smiled to herself. Her hand clasped a certain envelope that he could +not see. + +Then the time came for their seeking out Anneli. But as they were going +through the twilight of a corridor she stopped him, and her usually +frank eyes were downcast. She took out that envelope. + +"Dearest," she said, almost inaudibly, "this is something I wish you to +read after Anneli and I am gone. I think you will--you will not +misunderstand me. If you think--it is--it is too bold, you will remember +that I have--no mother to advise me; and--and you will be kind, and not +answer. Then I shall know." + +Ten minutes thereafter he was standing alone, in the broad daylight +outside, reading the lines she had written early that morning, and in +every one of them he read the firm and noble character of the woman he +loved. He was almost bewildered by the proud-spirited frankness of her +message to him; and involuntarily he thought of the poor devil of a poet +in the garret who spoke of his faithful friend and his worthless +mistress. + +"One is fortunate indeed to have a friend like Evelyn," he said to +himself. "But when and has, besides that, the love of a woman like +this--then the earth holds something worth living for." + +He looked at the brief, proud, pathetic message again--"_I am your wife: +why should you go alone?_" It was Natalie herself speaking in every +word. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII. + +INTERVENTION. + + +The more that Madame Potecki thought over the communication made to her +by Natalie, the more alarmed she became. Her pupils received but a very +mechanical sort of guidance that afternoon. All through the "One, two, +three, four; one, two, three, four" she was haunted by an uneasy +consciousness that her protest had not been nearly strong enough. The +girl had not seemed in the least impressed by her counsel. And suppose +this wild project were indeed carried out, might not she, that is, +Madame Potecki, be regarded as an accomplice if she remained silent and +did not intervene? + +On the other hand, although she and Ferdinand Lind were friends of many +years standing, she had never quite got over a certain fear of him. She +guessed pretty well what underlay that pleasant, plausible exterior of +his. And she was not at all sure that, if she went to Mr. Lind and told +him that in such and such circumstances his daughter meant to go to +America as the wife of George Brand, the first outburst of his anger +might not fall on herself. She was an intermeddler. What concern of hers +was it? He might even accuse her of having connived at the whole affair, +especially during his absence in Philadelphia. + +But after all, the little Polish lady was exceedingly fond of this +girl; and she resolved to go at all hazards and see whether something +could not be done to put matters straight. She would call at the +chambers in Lisle Street, and make sure of seeing Mr. Lind alone. She +would venture to remind him that his daughter was grown up--a woman, not +to be treated as a child. As she had been altogether on the father's +side in arguing with Natalie, so she would be altogether on the +daughter's side in making these representations to Mr. Lind. Perhaps +some happy compromise would result. + +She was, however, exceedingly nervous when, on the following afternoon, +she called at Lisle Street, and was preceded up-stairs by the stout old +German. In the room into which she was shown Reitzei was seated. Reitzei +received her very graciously; they were old friends. But although Madame +Potecki on ordinary occasions was fond of listening to the sound of her +own voice, she seemed now quite incapable of saying anything. Reitzei +had been fortunate enough to hear the new barytone sing at a private +house on the previous evening; she did not even ask what impression had +been produced. + +Then Mr. Lind came into the room, and Reitzei left. + +"How do you do, Madame Potecki?" said he, somewhat curtly. + +She took it that he was offended because she had come on merely private +affairs to his place of business; and this did not tend to lessen her +embarrassment. However, she made a brave plunge. + +"You are surprised," she said, "to find me calling upon you here, are +you not? Yes; but I will explain. You see, my dear friend, I wished to +see you alone--" + +"Yes, yes, Madame Potecki; I understand. What is your news?" + +"It is--about Natalie," she managed to say, and then all the methods of +beginning that she had studied went clean out of her mind; and she was +reduced to an absolute silence. + +He did not seem in the least impatient. + +"Yes; about Natalie?" he repeated, taking up a paper-knife, and +beginning to write imaginary letters on the leather of the desk before +him. + +"You will say to me, 'Why do you interfere?'" the little woman managed +to say at last. "Meddlers do harm; they are not thanked. But then, my +dear friend, Natalie is like my own child to me; for her what would I +not do?" + +Mr. Lind could not fail to see that his visitor was very nervous and +agitated: perhaps it was to give her time to compose herself that he +said, leisurely, + +"Yes, Madame Potecki; I know that you and she are great friends; and it +is a good thing that the child should have some one to keep her company; +perhaps she is a little too much alone. Well, what do you wish to say +about her? You run no risk with me. You will not be misunderstood. I +know you are not likely to say anything unkind about Natalie." + +"Unkind!" she exclaimed; and now she had recovered herself somewhat. +"Who could do that? Oh no, my dear friend; oh no!" + +Here was another awkward pause. + +"My dear Madame Potecki," said Mr. Lind, with a smile, "shall I speak +for you? You do not like to say what you have come to say. Shall I speak +for you? This is it, is it not? You have become aware of that +entanglement that Natalie has got into. Very well. Perhaps she has told +you. Perhaps she has told you also that I have forbidden her to have any +communication with--well, let us speak frankly--Mr. Brand. Very well. +You go with her to the South Kensington Museum; you meet Mr. Brand +there. Naturally you think if that comes to my ears I shall suspect you +of having planned the meeting; and you would rather come and assure me +that you had nothing to do with it. Is it so?" + +"My dear friend," said Madame Potecki, quickly, "I did not come to you +about myself at all! What am I? What matters what happens to an old +woman like me? It is not about myself, it is about Natalie that I have +come to you. Ah, the dear, beautiful child!--how can one see her +unhappy, and not try to do something? Why should she be unhappy? She is +young, beautiful, loving; my dear friend, do you wonder that she has a +sweetheart?--and one who is so worthy of her, too: one who is not +selfish, who has courage, who will be kind to her. Then I said to +myself, 'Ah, what a pity to have father and daughter opposed to each +other!' Why might not one step in and say, 'Come, and be friends. You +love each other: do not have this coldness that makes a young heart so +miserable!'" + +She had talked quickly and eagerly at last; she was trembling with +excitement, she had her eyes fixed on his face to catch the first +symptom of acquiescence. + +But, on the contrary, Mr. Lind remained quite impassive, and he said, +coldly, + +"This is a different matter altogether, Madame Potecki. I do not blame +you for interfering; but I must tell you at once that your interference +is not likely to be of much use. You see, there are reasons which I +cannot explain to you, but which are very serious, why any proposal of +marriage between Mr. Brand and Natalie is not to be entertained for a +moment. The thing is quite impossible. Very well. She knows this; she +knows that I wish all communication between them to cease; nevertheless, +she says she will see him every day until he goes. How can you wonder +that she is unhappy? Is it not her own doing?" + +"If she was in reality my child, that is not the way I would speak," +said the little woman, boldly. + +"Unfortunately, my dear Madame Potecki," said Mr. Lind, blandly, "I +cannot, as I say, explain to you the reasons which make such a marriage +impossible, or you yourself would say it was impossible. Very well, +then. If you wish to do a service to your friend Natalie--if you wish to +see her less unhappy, you know what advice to give her. A girl who +perseveres in wilful disobedience is not likely to be very contented in +her mind." + +Madame Potecki sat silent and perplexed. This man seemed so firm, so +reasonable, so assured, it was apparently hopeless to expect any +concession from him. And yet what was the use of her going away merely +to repeat the advice she had already given? + +"And in any case," he continued, lightly, "it is not an affair for you +to be deeply troubled about, my dear Madame Potecki; on the contrary, it +is a circumstance of little moment. If Natalie chooses to indulge this +sentiment--well, the fate of empires does not hang on it, and in a +little while it will be all right. Youth soon recovers from small +disappointments; the girl is not morbid or melancholy. Moreover, she has +plenty to occupy her mind with: do not fear that she will be permanently +unhappy." + +All this gave Natalie's friend but scant consolation. She knew something +of the girl, she knew it was not a light matter that had made her +resolve to share banishment with her lover rather than that he should +depart alone. + +"Yes, she is acting contrary to my wishes," continued Mr. Lind, who saw +that his visitor was anxious and chagrined. "But why should you vex +yourself with that, my dear madame?--why, indeed? It is only for a few +days. When Mr. Brand leaves for America, then she will settle down to +her old ways. This episode of sentiment will soon be forgotten. Do not +fear for your friend Natalie; she has a healthy constitution; she is +not likely to sigh away her life." + +"But you do not understand, Mr. Lind!" Madame Potecki exclaimed +suddenly. "You do not understand. When he leaves for America, there is +to be an end? No! You are not aware, then, that if he goes to America, +Natalie will go also?" + +She had spoken quickly, breathlessly, not taking much notice of her +words, but she was appalled by the effect they produced. Lind started, +as if he had been struck; and for a second, as he regarded her, the eyes +set under the heavy brows burnt like coals, and she noticed a curious +paleness in his face, especially in the lips. But this lasted only for +an instant. When he spoke, he was quite calm, and was apparently +considering each word. + +"Are you authorized to bring me this message?" he said, slowly. + +"Oh no; oh no!" the little woman exclaimed. "I assure you, my dear +friend, I came to you because I thought something was about to +happen--something that might be prevented. Ah, you don't know how I love +that darling child; and to see her unhappy, and resolved, perhaps, to +make some great mistake in her life, how could I help interfering?" + +"So," continued Lind, apparently weighing every word, "this is what she +is bent on! If Brand goes to America, she will go with him?" + +"I--I--am afraid so," stammered Madame Potecki. "That is what I gathered +from her--though it was only an imaginary case she spoke of. But she was +pale, and trembling, and how could I stand by and not do something?" + +He did not answer; his lips were firm set. Unconsciously he was pressing +the point of the paper-knife into the leather; it snapped in two. He +threw the pieces aside, and said, with a sudden lightness of manner, + +"Ah, well, my dear madame, you know young people are sometimes very +headstrong, and difficult to manage. We must see what can be done in +this case. You have not told Natalie you were coming to me?" + +"No. She asked me at first; then she said she would tell you herself." + +He regarded her for a second. + +"There is no reason why you should say you have been here?" + +"Perhaps not, perhaps not," Madame Potecki said, doubtfully. "No; there +is no necessity. But if one were sure that the dear child were to be +made any happier--" + +She did not complete the sentence. + +"I think you may leave the whole affair in my hands, my dear Madame +Potecki," said Lind, in his usual courteous fashion. He spoke, indeed, +as if it were a matter of the most trifling importance. "I think I can +promise you that Natalie shall not be allowed to imperil the happiness +of her life by taking any rash steps. In the mean time, I am your debtor +that you have come and told me. It was considerate of you, Madame +Potecki; I am obliged to you." + +The little woman was practically dismissed. She rose, still doubtful, +and hesitated. But what more could she say? + +"I am not to tell her, then?" she said. + +"If you please, not." + +When he had graciously bowed her out, he returned to his seat at the +desk; and then the forced courtesy of his manner was abandoned. His +brows gathered down; his lips were again firm set; he bent one of the +pieces of the paper-knife until that snapped too; and when some one +knocked at the door, he answered sharply in German. + +It was Gathorne Edwards who entered. + +"Well, you have got back?" he said, with but scant civility. "Where is +Calabressa?" + +The tall, pale, stooping man looked round with some caution. + +"There is no one--no one but Reitzei," said Lind, impatiently. + +"Calabressa is detained in Naples--the General's orders," said the +other, in rather a low voice. "I did not write--I thought it was not +safe to put anything on paper; more especially as we discovered that +Kirski was being watched." + +"No wonder," said Lind, scornfully. "A fool of a madman being taken +about by a fool of a mountebank!" + +Edwards stared at him. Surely this man, who was usually the most +composed, and impenetrable, and suave of men, must have been +considerably annoyed thus to give way to a petulant temper. + +"But the result, Edwards: well?" + +"Refused!" + +Lind laughed sardonically. + +"Who could have doubted? Of course the council do not think that I +approved of that mad scheme?" + +"At all events, sir," said Edwards, submissively, "you permitted it." + +"Permitted it! Yes; to please old Calabressa, who imagines himself a +diplomatist. But who could have doubted what the end would be? Well, +what further?" + +"I understand that a message is on its way to you from the council," +said the other, speaking in still lower tones, "giving further +instructions. They consider it of great importance that--it--should be +done by one of the English section; so that no one may imagine it arises +from a private revenge." + +Lind was toying with one of the pieces of the broken paper-knife. + +"Zaccatelli has had the warning," Edwards continued. "Granaglia took it. +The Cardinal is mad with fright--will do anything." + +Lind seemed to rouse himself with an effort. + +"I beg your pardon, friend Edwards. I did not hear. What were you +saying?" + +"I was saying that the Cardinal had had the decree announced to him, and +is mad with fear, and he will do anything. He offers thirty thousand +lire a year; not only that, but he will try to get his Holiness to give +his countenance to the Society. Fancy, as Calabressa says, what the +world would say to an alliance between the Vatican and the SOCIETY OF +THE SEVEN STARS!" + +Lind seemed incapable of paying attention to this new visitor, so +absorbed was he in his own thoughts. He had again to rouse himself +forcibly. + +"Yes," he said, "you were saying, friend Edwards, that the Starving +Cardinal had become aware of the decree. Yes; well, then?" + +"Did you not hear, sir? He thinks there should be an alliance between +the Vatican and the Society." + +"His Eminence is jocular, considering how near he is to the end of his +life," said Lind, absently. + +"Further," Edwards continued, "he has sent back the daughter of old De +Bedros, who, it seems, first claimed the decree against him; and he is +to give her a dowry of ten thousand lire when she marries. But all these +promises and proposals do not seem to have weighed much with the +council." + +Here Edwards stopped. He perceived plainly that Lind--who sat with his +brows drawn down, and a sombre look on his face--was not listening to +him at all. Presently Lind rose, and said, + +"My good Edwards, I have some business of serious importance to attend +to at once. Now you will give me the report of your journey some other +time. To-night--at nine o'clock?" + +"Yes, sir; if that will suit you." + +"Can you come to my house in Curzon Street at nine?" + +"Yes, certainly." + +"Very well. I am your debtor. But stay a moment. Of course, I understand +from you that nothing that has happened interferes with the decree +against our excellent friend the Cardinal?" + +"So it appears." + +"The Council are not to be bought over by idle promises?" + +"Apparently not." + +"Very well. Then you will come to-night at nine; in my little study +there will be no interruption; you can give me all the details of your +holiday. Ha, my friend Edwards," he added more pleasantly, as he opened +the door for his visitor, "would it not be better for you to give up +that Museum altogether, and come over to us? Then you would have many a +pleasant little trip." + +"I suspect the Museum is most likely to give me up," said Edwards, with +a laugh, as he descended the narrow twilight stairs. + +Then Lind returned to his desk, and sat down. A quarter of an hour +afterward, when Reitzei came into the room, he found him still sitting +there, without any papers whatsoever before him. The angry glance that +Lind directed to him as he entered told him that the master did not wish +to be disturbed; so he picked up a book of reference by way of excuse, +and retreated into the farther room, leaving Lind once more alone. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV. + +AN ENCOUNTER. + + +This was an October morning, in the waning of the year; and yet so +bright and clear and fresh was it, even in the middle of London, that +one could have imagined the spring had returned. The world was full of a +soft diffused light, from the pale clouds sailing across the blue to the +sheets of silver widening out on the broad bosom of the Thames; but here +and there the sun caught some shining surface--the lip of a marble +fountain, the glass of a lamp on the Embankment, or the harness of some +merchant-prince's horses prancing into town--and these were sharp +jewel-like gleams amidst the vague general radiance. The air was sweet +and clear; the white steam blown from the engines on Hungerford Bridge +showed that the wind was westerly. Two lovers walked below, in the +Embankment gardens, probably listening but little to the murmur of the +great city around them. Surely the spring had come again, and youth and +love and hope! The solitary occupant of this chamber that overlooked the +gardens and the shining river did not stay to ask why his heart should +be so full of gladness, why this beautiful morning should yield him so +much delight. He was thinking chiefly that on such a morning Natalie +would be abroad soon; she loved the sunlight and the sweet air. + +It was far too fine a morning, indeed, to spend in a museum, even with +all Madame Potecki's treasures spread out before one. So, instead of +going to South Kensington, he went straight up to Curzon Street. Early +as he was, he was not too early, for he was leisurely walking along the +pavement when, ahead of him, he saw Natalie and her little maid come +forth and set out westward. He allowed them to reach the park gates; +then he overtook them. Anneli fell a little way behind. + +Now, whether it was the brightness of the morning had raised her +spirits, or that she had been reasoning herself into a more courageous +frame of mind, it was soon very clear that Natalie was not at all so +anxious and embarrassed as she had shown herself the day before when +they parted. + +"There was no letter from you this morning," she said, with a smile, +though she did not look up into his face. "Then I have offered myself to +you, and am refused?" + +"How could I write?" he said. "I tried once or twice, and then I saw I +must wait until I could tell you face to face all that I think of your +bravery and your goodness. And now that I see you Natalie, it is not a +bit better: I can't tell you; I am so happy to be near you, to be beside +you, and hear your voice, that I don't think I can say anything at all." + +"I am refused, then?" said she, shyly. + +"Refused!" he exclaimed. "There are some things one cannot refuse--like +the sunshine. But do you know what a terrible sacrifice you are making?" + +"It is you, then, who are making no sacrifice at all," she said, +reproachfully. "What do I sacrifice more than every girl must sacrifice +when she marries? England is not my home as it is your home; we have +lived everywhere; I have no childhood's friends to leave, as many a girl +has." + +"Your father--" + +"After a little while my father will scarcely miss me; he is too busy." + +But presently she added, + +"If you had remained in England I should never have been your wife." + +"Why?" he said with some surprise. + +"I should never have married against my father's wishes," she said, +thoughtfully. "No. My promise to you was that I would be your wife, or +the wife of no one. I would have kept that promise. But as long as we +could have seen each other, and been with each other from time to time, +I don't think I could have married against my father's wish. Now it is +quite different. Your going to America has changed it all. Ah, my dear +friend, you don't know what I suffered one or two nights before I could +decide what was right for me to do!" + +"I can guess," he said, in a low voice, in answer to that brief sigh of +hers. + +Then she grew more cheerful in manner. + +"But that is all over; and now, am I accepted? I think you are like +Naomi: it was only when she saw that Ruth was very determined to go with +her that she left off protesting. And I am to consider America as my +future home? Well, at all events, one will be able to breathe freely +there. It is not a country weighed down with standing armies and +conscriptions and fortifications. How could one live in a town like +Coblentz, or Metz, or Brest? The poor wretches marching this way and +marching that--you watch them from your hotel window--the young men and +the middle-aged men--and you know that they would rather be away at +their farms, or in their factories, or saw-pits, or engine-houses, +working for their wives and children--" + +"Natalie," said he, "you are only half a woman: you don't care about +military glory." + +"It is the most mean, the most cruel and contemptible thing under the +sun!" she said, passionately. "What is the quality that makes a great +hero--a great general--nowadays? Courage? Not a bit. It is +callousness!--an absolute indifference to the slaughtering of human +lives! You sit in your tent--you sit on horseback--miles away from the +fighting; and if the poor wretches are being destroyed here or there in +too great quantities, if they are ridden down by the horses and torn to +pieces by the mitrailleuses, 'Oh, clap on another thousand or two: the +place must be taken at all risks.' Yes, indeed; but not much risk to +you! For if you fail--if all the thousands of men have been hurled +against the stone and lead only to be thrown back crushed and +murdered--why, you have fought with great courage--_you_, the great +general, sitting in your saddle miles away; it is _you_ who have shown +extraordinary courage!--but numbers were against you: and if you win, +you have shown still greater courage; and the audacity of the movement +was so and so; and your dogged persistence was so and so; and you get +another star for your breast; and all the world sings your praises. And +who is to court-martial a great hero for reckless waste of human life? +Who is to tell him that he is a cruel-hearted coward? Who is to take him +to the fields he has saturated with blood, and compel him to count the +corpses; or to take him to the homesteads he has ruined throughout the +land, and ask the women and sons and the daughters what they think of +this marvellous courage? Oh no; he is away back in the capital--there is +a triumphal procession; all we want now is another war-tax--for the +peasant must pay with his money as well as with his blood--and another +levy of the young men to be taken and killed!" + +This was always a sore point with Natalie; and he did not seek to check +her enthusiasm with any commonplace and obvious criticisms. When she got +into one of these moods of proud indignation, which was not seldom, he +loved her all the more. There was something in the ring of her voice +that touched him to the heart. Such noble, quick, generous sympathy +seemed to him far too beautiful and rare a thing to be met by argument +and analysis. When he heard that pathetic tremulousness in her voice, he +was ready to believe anything. When he looked at the proud lips and the +moistened eyes, what cause that had won such eloquent advocacy would he +not have espoused? + +"Ah, well, Natalie," said he, "some day the mass of the people of the +earth will be brought to see that all that can be put a stop to, if they +so choose. They have the power: _Zahlen regieren die Welt_; and how can +one be better employed than in spreading abroad knowledge, and showing +the poorer people of the earth how the world might be governed if they +would only ally themselves together? It would be more easy to persuade +them if we had all of us your voice and your enthusiasm." + +"Mine?" she said. "A woman's talking is not likely to be of much use. +But," she added, rather hesitatingly, "at least--she can give her +sympathy--and her love--to those who are doing the real work." + +"And I am going to earn yours, Natalie," said he, cheerfully, "to such a +degree as you have never dreamed of, when you and I together are away in +the new world. And that reminds me now you must not be frightened; but +there is a little difficulty. Of course you thought of nothing, when you +wrote those lines, but of doing a kindness; that was like you; your +heart speaks quickly. Well--" + +He himself seemed somewhat embarrassed. + +"You see, Natalie, there would be no difficulty at all if you and I +could get married within the next few days." + +Her eyes were cast down, and she was silent. + +"You don't think it possible you could get your father to consent?" he +said, but without much hope. + +"Oh no, I think not; I fear not," she said, in a low voice. + +"Then you see, Natalie," he continued--and he spoke quite lightly, as if +it was merely an affair of a moment--"there would be this little +awkwardness: you are not of age; unless you get your father's consent, +you cannot marry until you are twenty-one. It is not a long time--" + +"I did not think of it," she said, very hurriedly, and even +breathlessly. "I only thought it--it seemed hard you should go away +alone--and I considered myself already your wife--and I said, 'What +ought I to do?' And now--now you will tell me what to do. I do not +know--I have no one to ask." + +"Do you think," said he, after a pause, "that you would forget me, if +you were to remain two years in England while I was in America?" + +She regarded him for a moment with those large, true eyes of hers; and +she did not answer in words. + +"There is another way; but--it is asking too much," he said. + +"What is it?" she said, calmly. + +"I was thinking," he said, with some hesitation, "that if I could bribe +Madame Potecki to leave her music-lessons--and take charge of you--and +bring you to America--and you and she might live there until you are +twenty-one--but I see it is impossible. It is too selfish. I should not +have thought of it. What are two years, Natalie?" + +The girl answered nothing; she was thinking deeply. When she next spoke, +it was about Lord Evelyn, and of the probability of his crossing to the +States, and remaining there for a year or two; and she wanted to know +more about the great country beyond the seas, and what was Philadelphia +like. + +Well, it was not to be expected that these two, so busy with their own +affairs, were likely to notice much that was passing around them, as the +forenoon sped rapidly away, and Natalie had to think of getting home +again. But the little German maid servant was not so engrossed. She was +letting her clear, observant blue eyes stray from the pretty young +ladies riding in the Row to the people walking under the trees, and from +them again to the banks of the Serpentine, where the dogs were barking +at the ducks. In doing so she happened to look a little bit behind her; +then suddenly she started, and said to herself, '_Herr Je!_' But the +little maid had her wits about her. She pretended to have seen nothing. +Gradually, however, she lessened the distance between herself and her +young mistress; then, when she was quite up to her, and walking abreast +with her, she said, in a low, quick voice. + +"Fraulein! Fraulein!" + +"What is it, Anneli?" + +George Brand was listening too. He wondered that the girl seemed so +excited, and yet spoke low, and kept her eyes fixed on the ground. + +"Ah, do not look round, Fraulein!" said she, in the same hurried way. +"Do not look round! But it is the lady who gave you the locket. She is +walking by the lake. She is watching you." + +Natalie did not look round. She turned to her companion, and said, +without any agitation whatever, + +"Do you remember, dearest? I showed you the locket, and told you about +my mysterious visitor. Now Anneli says she is walking by the side of the +lake. I may go and speak to her, may I not? Because it was so wicked of +Calabressa to say some one had stolen the locket, and wished to restore +it after many years. I never had any such locket." + +She was talking quite carelessly; it was Brand himself who was most +perturbed. He knew well who that stranger must be, if Anneli's sharp +eyes had not deceived her. + +"No, Natalie," he said, quickly, "you must not go and speak to her; and +do not look round, either. Perhaps she does not wish to be seen: perhaps +she would go away. Leave it to me, my darling; I will find out all about +her for you." + +"But it is very strange," said the girl. "I shall begin to be afraid of +this emissary of Santa Claus if she continues to be so mysterious; and I +do not like mystery: I think, dearest, I must go and speak to her. She +can not mean me any harm. She has brought me flowers again and again on +my birthday, if it is the same. She gave me the little locket I showed +you. Why may not I stop and speak to her?" + +"Not now, my darling," he said, putting his hand on her arm. "Let me +find out about her first." + +"And how are you going to do that? In a few minutes, perhaps, she goes +away; and when will you see her again? It is many months since Anneli +saw her last; and Anneli sees everything and everybody." + +"We will cross the bridge," said he, in a low voice, for he knew not how +near the stranger might be, "and walk on to Park Lane. Anneli must tell +us how far she follows. If she turns aside anywhere I will bid you +good-bye and see where she goes. Do you understand, Natalie?" + +She certainly did not understand why he should speak so seriously about +it. + +"And I am to be marched like a prisoner? I may not turn my head?" + +She began to be amused. He scarcely knew what to say to her. At last he +said, earnestly, + +"Natalie, it is of great importance to you that I should see this +lady--that I should try to see her. Do as I bid you, my dearest." + +"Then you know who she is?" said Natalie, promptly. + +"I have a suspicion, at all events; and--and--something may happen--that +you will be glad of." + +"What, more mysterious presents?" the girl said, lightly; "more messages +from Santa Claus?" + +He could not answer her. The consciousness that this might be indeed +Natalie's mother who was so near to them; the fear of the possible +consequences of any sudden disclosure; the thought that this opportunity +might escape him, and he leaving in a few days for America: all these +things whirled through his brain in rapid and painful succession. But +there was soon to be an end of them. Natalie, still obediently following +his instructions, and yet inclined to make light of the whole thing, and +himself arrived at the gates of the park; Anneli, as formerly, being +somewhat behind. Receiving no intimation from her, they crossed the road +to the corner of Great Stanhope Street. But they had not proceeded far +when Anneli said, + +"Ah, Fraulein, the lady is gone! You may look after her now. See!" + +That was enough for George Brand. He had no difficulty in making out +the dark figure that Anneli indicated; and he was in no great hurry, for +he feared the stranger might discover that she was being followed. But +he breathed more freely when he had bidden good-bye to Natalie, and seen +her set out for home. + +He leisurely walked up Park Lane, keeping an eye from time to time on +the figure in black, but not paying too strict attention, lest she +should turn suddenly and observe him. In this way he followed her up to +Oxford Street; and there, in the more crowded thoroughfare, he lessened +the distance between them considerably. He also watched more closely +now, and with a strange interest. From the graceful carriage, the +beautiful figure, he was almost convinced that that, indeed, was +Natalie's mother; and he began to wonder what he would say to her--how +he would justify his interference. + +The stranger stopped at a door next a shop in the Edgware Road; knocked, +waited, and was admitted. Then the door was shut again. + +It was obviously a private lodging-house. He took a half-crown in his +hand to bribe the maid-servant, and walked boldly up to the door and +knocked. It was not a maid-servant who answered, however; it was a man +who looked something like an English butler, and yet there was a foreign +touch about his dress--probably, Brand thought, the landlord. Brand +pulled out a card-case, and pretended to have some difficulty in getting +a card from it. + +"The lady who came in just now--" he said, still looking at the cards. + +"Madame Berezolyi? Yes, sir." + +His heart jumped. But he calmly took out a pencil, and wrote on one of +the cards, in French, "_One who knows your daughter would like to see +you_." + +"Will you be so kind as to take up that card to Madame Berezolyi? I +think she will see me. I will wait here till you come down." + +The man returned in a couple of minutes. + +"Madame Berezolyi will be pleased to see you, sir; will you step this +way?" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV. + +THE MOTHER. + + +This beautiful, pale, trembling mother: she stood there, dark against +the light of the window; but even in the shadow how singularly like she +was to Natalie, in the tall, slender, elegant figure, the proud set of +the head, the calm, intellectual brows, and the large, tender, dark +eyes, as soft and pathetic as those of a doe--only this woman's face was +worn and sad, and her hair was silver-gray. + +She was greatly agitated, and for a second or two incapable of speech. +But when he began in French to apologize for his intrusion, she eagerly +interrupted him. + +"Ah, no, no!" she said, in the same tongue. "Do not waste words in +apology. You have come to tell me about my child, my Natalie: Heaven +bless you for it; it is a great kindness. To-day I saw you walking with +her--listening to her voice--ah, how I envied you!--and once or twice I +thought of going to her and taking her hand, and saying only one +word--'Natalushka!'" + +"That would have been a great imprudence," said he gravely. "If you wish +to speak to your daughter--" + +"If I wish to speak to her!--if I wish to speak to her!" she exclaimed; +and there were tears in her voice, if there were none in the sad eyes. + +"You forget, madame, that your daughter has been brought up in the +belief that you died when she was a mere infant. Consider the effect of +any sudden disclosure." + +"But has she never suspected? I have passed her; she has seen me. I gave +her a locket: what did she think?" + +"She was puzzled, yes; but how would it occur to the girl that any one +could be so cruel as to conceal from her all those years the fact that +her mother was alive?" + +"Then you yourself, monsieur--" + +"I knew it from Calabressa." + +"Ah, my old friend Calabressa! And he was here, in London, and he saw my +Natalie. Perhaps--" + +She paused for a second. + +"Perhaps it was he who sent the message. I heard--it was only a word or +two--that my daughter had found a lover." + +She regarded him. She had the same calm fearlessness of look that dwelt +in Natalie's eyes. + +"You will pardon me, monsieur. Do I guess right? It is to you that my +child has given her love?" + +"That is my happiness," said he. "I wish I were better worthy of it." + +She still regarded him very earnestly, and in silence. + +"When I heard," she said, at length, in a low voice, "that my Natalie +had given her love to a stranger, my heart sunk. I said, 'More than ever +is she away from me now;' and I wondered what the stranger might be +like, and whether he would be kind to her. Now that I see you, I am not +so sad. There is something in your voice, in your look, that tells me to +have confidence in you: you will be kind to Natalie." + +She seemed to be thinking aloud: and yet he was not embarrassed by this +confession, nor yet by her earnest look; he perceived how all her +thoughts were really concentrated on her daughter. + +"Her father approves?" said this sad-faced, gray-haired woman. + +"Oh no; quite the contrary." + +"But he is kind to her?" she said, quickly, and anxiously. + +"Oh yes," he answered. "No doubt he is kind to her. Who could be +otherwise?" + +She had been so agitated at the beginning of this interview that she had +allowed her visitor to remain standing. She now asked him to be seated, +and took a chair opposite to him. Her nervousness had in a measure +disappeared; though at times she clasped the fingers of both hands +together, as if to force herself to be composed. + +"You will tell me all about it, monsieur; that I may know what to say +when I speak to my child at last. Ah, heavens, if you could understand +how full my heart is: sixteen years of silence! Think what a mother has +to say to her only child after that time! It was cruel--cruel--cruel!" + +A little convulsive sob was the only sign of her emotion, and the +lingers were clasped together. + +"Pardon me, madame," said he, with some hesitation; "but, you see, I do +not know the circumstances--" + +"You do not know why I dared not speak to my own daughter?" she said, +looking up in surprise. "Calabressa did not tell you?" + +"No. There were some hints I did not understand." + +"Nor of the reasons that forced me to comply with such an inhuman +demand? Alas! these reasons exist no longer. I have done my duty to one +whose life was sacred to me; now his death has released me from fear; I +come to my daughter now. Ah, when I fold her to my heart, what shall I +say to her--what but this?--'Natalushka, if your mother has remained +away from you all these years, it was not because she did not love +you.'" + +He drew his chair nearer, and took her hand. + +"I perceive that you have suffered, and deeply. But your daughter will +make amends to you. She loves you now; you are a saint to her; your +portrait is her dearest possession--" + +"My portrait?" she said, looking rather bewildered. "Her father has not +forbidden her that, then?" + +"It was Calabressa who gave it to her quite recently." + +She gently withdrew her hand, and glanced at the table, on which two +books lay, and sighed. + +"The English tongue is so difficult," she said. "And I have so much--so +much--to say! I have written out many things that I wish to tell her; +and have repeated them, and repeated them; but the sound is not +right--the sound is not like what my heart wishes to say to her." + +"Reassure yourself, madame, on that point," said he, cheerfully: "I +should imagine there is scarcely any language in Europe that your +daughter does not know something of. You will not have to speak English +to her at all." + +She looked up with bright eagerness in her eyes. + +"But not Magyar?" + +"I do not know for certain," he said, "for I don't know Magyar myself; +but I am almost convinced she must know it. She has told me so much +about her countrymen that used to come about the house; yes, surely they +would speak Magyar." + +A strange happy light came into the woman's face; she was communing with +herself--perhaps going over mentally some tender phrases, full of the +soft vowel sounds of the Magyar tongue. + +"That," said she, presently, and in a low voice, "would be my crowning +joy. I have thought of what I should say to her in many languages; but +always 'My daughter, I love you,' did not have the right sound. In our +own tongue it goes to the heart. I am no longer afraid: my girl will +understand me." + +"I should think," said he, "you will not have to speak much to assure +her of your love." + +She seemed to become a great deal more cheerful; this matter had +evidently been weighing on her mind. + +"Meanwhile," she said, "you promised to tell me all about Natalie and +yourself. Her father does not approve of your marrying. Well, his +reasons?" + +"If he has any, he is careful to keep them to himself," he said. "But I +can guess at some of them. No doubt he would rather not have Natalie +marry; it would deprive him of an excellent house-keeper. Then +again--and this is the only reason he does give--he seems to consider it +would be inexpedient as regards the work we are all engaged in--" + +"You!" she said, with a sudden start. "Are you in the Society also?" + +"Certainly, madame." + +"What grade?" + +He told her. + +"Then you are helpless if he forbids your marriage." + +"On the contrary, madame, my marriage or non-marriage has nothing +whatever to do with my obedience to the Society." + +"He has control over Natalie--" + +"Until she is twenty-one," he answered promptly. + +"But," she said, regarding him with some apprehension in her eyes, "you +do not say--you do not suggest--that the child is opposed to her +father--that she thinks of marrying you, when she may legally do so, +against his wish?" + +"My dear madame," said he, "it will be difficult for you to understand +how all this affair rests until you get to know something more about +Natalie herself. She is not like other girls. She has courage; she has +opinions of her own: when she thinks that such and such a thing is +right, she is not afraid to do it, whatever it may be. Now, she believes +her father's opposition to be unjust; and--and perhaps there is +something else that has influenced her: well, the fact is, I am ordered +off to America, and--and the girl has a quick and generous nature, and +she at once offered to share what she calls my banishment." + +"To leave her father's house!" said the mother, with increasing alarm. + +Brand looked at her. He could not understand this expression of anxious +concern. If, as he was beginning to assure himself, Lind was the cause +of that long and cruel separation between mother and daughter, why +should this woman be aghast at the notion of Natalie leaving such a +guardian? Or was it merely a superstitious fear of him, similar to that +which seemed to possess Calabressa? + +"In dealing with your daughter, madame," he continued, "one has to be +careful not to take advantage of her forgetfulness of herself. She is +too willing to sacrifice herself for others. Now to-day we were +talking--as she is not free to marry until she is twenty-one--about her +perhaps going over to America under the guardianship of Madame +Potecki--" + +"Madame Potecki." + +"She is a friend of your daughter's--almost a mother to her; and I am +not sure but that Natalie would willingly do that--more especially under +your guardianship, in preference to that of Madame Potecki--" + +"Oh no, no!" she exclaimed, instantly. "She must not dare her father +like that. Oh, it would be terrible! I hope you will not allow her." + +"It is not a question of daring; the girl has courage enough for +anything," he said coolly. "The thing is that it would involve too great +a sacrifice on her part; and I was exceedingly selfish to think of it +for a moment. No; let her remain in her father's house until she is free +to act as her own mistress; then, if she will come to me, I shall take +care that a proper home is provided for her. She must not be a wanderer +and a stranger." + +"But even then, when she is free to act, you will not ask her to disobey +her father? Oh, it will be too terrible!" + +Again he regarded her with amazement. + +"What do you mean, madame? What is terrible? Or is it that you are +afraid of him? Calabressa spoke like that." + +"You do not know of what he is capable," she said, with a sigh. + +"All the more reason," he said, directly, "why she should be removed +from his guardianship. But permit me to say, madame, that I do not quite +share your apprehensions. I have seen nothing of the bogey kind about +your husband. Of course, he is a man of strong will, and he does not +like to be thwarted: without that strength of character he could not +have done what he has done. But he also knows that his daughter is no +longer a child, and when the proper time comes you will find that his +common sense will lead him to withdraw an opposition which would +otherwise be futile. Do I explain myself clearly? My dear madame, have +no anxiety about the future of your daughter. When you see herself, when +you speak to her, you will find that she is one who is not given to +fear." + +For a moment the apprehensive look left her face. She remained silent, a +happier light coming into her eyes. + +"She is not sad and sorrowful, then?" she said, presently. + +"Oh no; she is too brave." + +"What beautiful hair she has!" said this worn-faced woman with the sad +eyes. "Ah, many a time I have said to myself that when I take her to my +heart I will feel the beautiful soft hair; I will stroke it; her head +will lie on my bosom, and I will gather courage from her eyes: when she +laughs my heart will rejoice! I have lived many years in solitude--in +secret, with many apprehensions; perhaps I have grown timid and fearful; +once I was not so. But I have been troubling myself with fears; I have +said, 'Ah, if she looks coldly on me, if she turns away from me, then my +heart will break!'" + +"I do not think you have much to fear," said he, regarding the +beautiful, sad face. + +"I have tried to catch the sound of her voice," she continued, absently, +and her eyes were filled with tears, "but I could not do that. But I +have watched her, and wondered. She does not seem proud and cold." + +"She will not be proud or cold to you," he said, "when she is kindness +and gentleness to all the world." + +"And--and when shall you see her again?" she asked, timidly. + +"Now," he said. "If you will permit me, I will go to her at once. I will +bring her to you." + +"Oh no!" she exclaimed hastily drying her eyes. "Oh no! She must not +find a sad mother, who has been crying. She will be repelled. She will +think, 'I have enough of sadness.' Oh no, you must let me collect +myself: I must be very brave and cheerful when my Natalie comes to me. I +must make her laugh, not cry." + +"Madame," said he, gravely, "I may have but a few days longer in +England: do you think it is wise to put off the opportunity? You see, +she must be prepared; it would be a terrible shock if she were to know +suddenly. And how can one tell what may happen to-morrow or next day? At +the present moment I know she is at home; I could bring her to you +directly." + +"Just now?" she said; and she began to tremble again. She rose and went +to a mirror. + +"She could not recognize herself in me. She would not believe me. And I +should frighten her with my mourning and my sadness." + +"I do not think you need fear, madame." + +She turned to him eagerly. + +"Perhaps you would explain to her? Ah, would you be so kind! Tell her I +have seen much trouble of late. My father has just died, after years of +illness; and we were kept in perpetual terror. You will tell her why I +dared not go to her before: oh no! not that--not that!" + +"You forget, madame, that I myself do not know." + +"It is better she should not know--better she should not know!" she +said, rapidly. "No, let the girl have confidence in her father while she +remains in his house. Perhaps some time she may know; perhaps some one +who is a fairer judge than I will tell her the story and make excuses: +it must be that there is some excuse." + +"She will not want to know; she will only want to come to you." + +"But half an hour, give me half an hour," she said, and she glanced +round the room. "It is so poor a chamber." + +"She will not think of the chamber." + +"And the little girl with her--she will remain down-stairs, will she +not? I wish to be alone, quite alone, with my child." Her breath came +and went quickly, and she clasped her fingers tight. "Oh, monsieur, my +heart will break if my child is cold to me!" + +"That is the last thing you have to fear," said he, and he rose. "Now +calm yourself, madame. Recollect, you must not frighten your daughter. +And it will be more than half an hour before I bring her to you; it will +take more than that for me to break it to her." + +She rose also; but she was obviously so excited that she did not know +well what she was doing. All her thoughts were about the forth-coming +interview. + +"You are sure she understands the Magyar?" she said again. + +"No, I do not know. But why not speak in French to her?" + +"It does not sound the same--it does not sound the same: and a +mother--can only--talk to her child--" + +"You must calm yourself, dear madame. Do you know that your daughter +believes you to have been a miracle of courage and self-reliance? What +Calabressa used to say to her was this: 'Natalushka, when you are in +trouble you will be brave; you will show yourself the daughter of +Natalie Berezolyi.'" + +"Yes, yes," she said, quickly, as she again dried her eyes, and drew +herself up. "I beg you to pardon me. I have thought so much of this +meeting, through all these years, that my hearts beats too quickly now. +But I will have no fear. She will come to me; I am not afraid: she will +not turn away from me. And how am I to thank you for your great +kindness?" she added, as he moved to the door. + +"By being kind to Natalie when I am away in America," said he. "You +will not find it a difficult task." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI. + +THE VELVET GLOVE. + + +Ferdinand Lind sat alone, after Gathorne Edwards had gone, apparently +deep buried in thought. He leaned forward over his desk, his head +resting on his left hand, while in his right hand he held a pencil, with +which he was mechanically printing letters on a sheet of blotting-paper +before him. These letters, again and again repeated, formed but one +phrase: THE VELVET GLOVE. It was as if he were perpetually reminding +himself, during the turnings and twistings of his sombre speculations, +of the necessity of being prudent and courteous and suave. It was as if +he were determined to imprint the caution on his brain--drilling it into +himself--so that in no possible emergency could it be forgotten. But as +his thoughts went farther afield, he began to play with the letters, as +a child might. They began to assume decorations. THE VELVET GLOVE +appeared surrounded with stars; again furnished with duplicate lines; +again breaking out into rays. At length he rose, tore up the sheet of +blotting-paper, and rung a hand-bell twice. + +Reitzei appeared. + +"Where will Beratinsky be this evening?" + +"At the Culturverein: he sups there." + +"You and he must be here at ten. There is business of importance." + +He walked across the room, and took up his hat and stick. Perhaps at +this moment the caution he had been drilling into himself suggested some +further word. He turned to Reitzei, who had advanced to take his place +at the desk. + +"I mean if that is quite convenient to you both," he said, courteously. +"Eleven o'clock, if you please, or twelve?" + +"Ten will be quite convenient," Reitzei said. + +"The business will not take long." + +"Then we can return to the Culturverein: it is an exhibition night: one +would not like to be altogether absent." + +These sombre musings had consumed some time. When Lind went out he found +it had grown dark; the lamps were lit; the stream of life was flowing +westward. But he seemed in no great hurry. He chose unfrequented +streets; he walked slowly; there was less of the customary spring and +jauntiness of his gait. In about half an hour he had reached the door of +Madame Potecki's house. + +He stood for some seconds there without ringing. Then, as some one +approached, he seemed waken out of a trance. He rung sharply, and the +summons was almost immediately answered. + +Madame Potecki was at home, he learned, but she was dining. + +"Never mind," said he, abruptly: "she will see me. Go and ask her." + +A couple of minutes thereafter he was shown into a small parlor, where +Madame Potecki had just risen to receive him; and by this time a +singular change had come over his manner. + +"I beg your pardon--I beg a thousand pardons, my dear Madame Potecki," +said he, in the kindest way, "for having interrupted you. Pray continue. +I shall make sure you forgive me only if you continue. Ah, that is well. +Now I will take a chair also." + +Madame Potecki had again seated herself, certainly; but she was far too +much agitated by this unexpected visit to be able to go on with her +repast. She was alarmed about Natalie. + +"You are surprised, no doubt, at my coming to see you," said he, +cheerfully and carelessly, "so soon after you were kind enough to call +on me. But it is only about a trifle; I assure you, my dear Madame +Potecki, it is only about a trifle, and I must therefore insist on your +not allowing your dinner to get cold." + +"But if it is about Natalie--" + +"My dear madame, Natalie is very well. There is nothing to alarm you. +Now you will go on with your dinner, and I will go on with my talking." + +Thus constrained, madame again addressed herself to the small banquet +spread before her, which consisted of a couple of sausages, some pickled +endive, a piece of Camembert cheese, and a tiny bottle of Erlauer. Mr. +Lind turned his chair to the fire, put his feet on the fender, and lay +back. He was rather smartly dressed this evening, and he was pleasant in +manner. + +"Natalie ought to be grateful to you, madame," said he lightly, "for +your solicitude about her. It is not often one finds that in one who is +not related by blood." + +"I have no one now left in the world to love but herself," said madame; +"and then you see, my dear friend Lind, her position appeals to one: it +is sad that she has no mother." + +"Yes, yes," said Lind, with a trifle of impatience. "Now you were good +enough to come and tell me this afternoon, madame, about that foolish +little romance that Natalie has got into her head. It was kind of you; +it was well-intentioned. And after all, although that wish of hers to go +to America can scarcely be serious, it is but natural that romantic +ideas should get into the head of a younger girl--" + +"Did not I say that to her?" exclaimed Madame Potecki, eagerly; "and +almost in these words too. And did not I say to her, 'Ah, my child, you +must take care; you must take care!'" + +"That also was good advice," said Lind, courteously; "and no doubt +Natalie laid it to her heart. No, I am not afraid of her doing anything +very wild or reckless. She is sensible; she thinks; she has not been +brought up in an atmosphere of sentiment. One may say this or that on +the spur of the moment, when one is excited; but when it comes to +action, one reasons, one sees what one's duty is. Natalie may have said +something to you, madame, about going to America, but not with any +serious intention, believe me." + +"Perhaps not," said Madame Potecki, with considerable hesitation. + +"Very well, then," said Mr. Lind, as he rose, and stood before the +chimney-piece mirror, and arranged the ends of his gracefully tied +neckerchief. "We come to another point. It was very kind of you, my dear +madame, to bring me the news--to tell me something of that sort had been +said; but you know what ill-natured people will remark. You get no +appreciation. They call you tale-bearer!" + +Madame colored slightly. + +"It is ungenerous; it is not a fair requital of kindness; but that is +what is said," he continued. "Now, I should not like any friend of +Natalie's to incur such a charge on her account, do you perceive, +madame? And, in these circumstances, do you not think that it would be +better for both you and me to consider that you did not visit me this +afternoon; that I know nothing of what idle foolishness Natalie has been +talking? Would not that be better? As for me, I am dumb." + +"Oh, very well, my dear friend," said madame, quickly. "I would not for +the world have Natalie or any one think that I was a mischief-maker--oh +no! And did I not promise to you that I should say nothing of my having +called on you to-day? It is already a promise." + +He turned round and regarded her. + +"Precisely so," he said. "You did promise; it was kind of you; and for +myself, you may rely on my discretion. Your calling on me--what you +repeated to me--all that is obliterated: you understand?" + +Madame Potecki understood that very well: but she could not quite make +out why he should have come to her this evening, apparently with no +object beyond that of reminding her of her promise to say nothing of her +visit to Lisle Street. + +He lifted his hat from an adjacent chair. + +"Now I will leave you to finish your dinner in quiet. You forgive me for +interrupting you, do you not? And you will remember, I am sure, not to +mention to any one about your having called on me to-day? As for me, it +is all wiped out: I know nothing. Adieu, and thanks." + +He shook hands with her in a very friendly manner, and then left, saying +he could open the outer door for himself. + +He got home in time for dinner: he and Natalie dined together, and he +was particularly kind to her; he talked in Magyar, which was his custom +when he wished to be friendly and affectionate; he made no reference to +George Brand whatsoever. + +"Natalie," said he, casually, "it was not fair that you were deprived of +a holiday this year. You know the reason--there were too many important +things going forward. But it is not yet too late. You must think about +it--think where you would like to go for two or three weeks." + +She did not answer. It was on that morning that she had placed her +written offer in her lover's hands; so far there had been no reply from +him. + +"And Madame Potecki," her father continued; "she is not very rich; she +has but little change. Why not take her with you instead of Anneli?" + +"I should like to take her away for a time," said the girl, in a low +voice. "She lives a monotonous life; but she has always her pupils." + +"Some arrangement could be made with them, surely," her father said, +lightly; and then he added, "Paris is always the safest place to go to +when one is in doubt. There you are independent of the weather; there +are so many things to see and to do if it rains. Will you think of it, +Natalushka?" + +"Yes, papa," she said, though she felt rather guilty. But she was so +grateful to have her father talk to her in this friendly way again, +after the days of estrangement that had passed, that she could not but +pretend to fall in with his schemes. + +"And I will tell you another thing," said Mr. Lind. "I intend to buy you +some furs, Natalie, for the winter. These we will get in Paris." + +"I am too much of an expense to you already, papa." + +"You forget," said he, with mock gravity, "that you give me your +invaluable services as house-keeper, and that so far you have received +no salary." + +There was a knock at the outer door. + +"Is it nine o'clock already?" he said, in an altered tone. + +"Whom do you expect, papa?" + +"Gathorne Edwards." + +"Then I will send you in coffee to the study." + +But presently Anneli came into the room. + +"Pardon, Fraulein, but the gentleman wishes to see you for one minute." + +"Let him come in here, then." + +Edwards came in, and shook hands with Natalie in an embarrassed manner. +Then he produced a little packet. + +"I have a commission, Miss Lind. It is from Signor Calabressa. He sends +you this necklace, and says I am to tell you that he thinks of you +always." + +The message had been in reality that Calabressa "thought of her and +loved her always." But Edwards was a shy person, and did not like to +pronounce the word "love" to this beautiful girl, who regarded him with +such proud, frank eyes. + +"He has not returned with you, then?" + +"No." + +"But you can send him a message?" + +"I will when I hear of his address." + +"Then you will tell him--will you be so kind?--that the little +Natalushka--that is myself," she said, smiling; "you will tell him that +the little Natalushka thanks him, and is not likely to forget him." + +The interview between the new visitor and Mr. Lind was speedily got +over. Lind excused himself for giving Edwards the trouble of this second +appointment by saying he had been much engrossed with serious business +during the day. There was, indeed, little new to be communicated about +the Kirski and Calabressa escapade, though Edwards repeated the details +as minutely as possible. He accepted a cigar, and left. + +Then Lind got his overcoat and hat and went out of the house. A hansom +took him along to Lisle Street: he arrived there just as ten was +striking. + +There were two men at the door; they were Beratinsky and Reitzei. All +three entered and went up the narrow stair in the dark, for the old +German had gone. There was some fumbling for matches on the landing; +then a light was procured, and the gas lit in the central room. Mr. Lind +sat down at his desk; the other two drew in chairs. The whole house was +intently silent. + +"I am sorry to take you away from your amusements," said he, civilly +enough; "but you will soon be able to return to them. The matter is of +importance. Edwards has returned." + +Both men nodded; Reitzei had, in fact, informed his companion. + +"As I anticipated, Calabressa's absurd proposal has been rejected, if +not even scoffed at. Now, this affair must not be played with any +longer. The Council has charged us, the English section, with a certain +duty; we must set about having it performed at once." + +"There is a year's grace," Beratinsky observed, but Lind interrupted him +curtly. + +"There may be a year's grace or less allowed to the infamous priest; +there is none allowed to us. We must have our agent ready. Why, man, do +you think a thing like that can be done off-hand, without long and +elaborate planning?" + +Beratinsky was silenced. + +"Are we to have the Council think that we are playing with them? And +that was not the only thing in connection with the Calabressa scheme +which you, Reitzei, were the first to advocate. Every additional person +whom you let into the secret is a possible weak point in the carrying +out of the design; do you perceive that? And you had to let this man +Edwards into it." + +"But he is safe." + +Lind laughed. + +"Safe? Yes; because he knows his own life would not be worth a +half-franc piece if he betrayed a Council secret. However, that is over: +no more about it. We must show the Council that we can act and +promptly." + +There was silence for a second or two. + +"I have no need to wait for the further instructions of the Council," +Lind resumed. "I know what they intend. They intend to make it clear to +all Europe that this is not a Camorra act of vengeance. The Starving +Cardinal has thousands of enemies; the people curse and groan at him; if +he were stabbed by an Italian, 'Oh, another of those Camorristi +wretches!' would be the cry. The agent must come from England, and, if +he is taken red-handed, then let him say if he likes that he is +connected with an association which knows how to reach evil-doers who +are beyond the ordinary reach of the law; but let him make it clear that +it is no Camorra affair: you understand?" + +"Yes, yes," said both men. + +"Now you know what the Council have ordained," continued Lind, calmly, +"that no agent shall be appointed to undertake any service involving +immediate peril to life without a ballot among at least four persons. It +was absurd of Calabressa to imagine that they would abrogate their own +decree, merely because that Russian madman was ready for anything. Well, +it is not expedient that this secret should be confided to many. It is +known to four persons in this country. We are three of the four." + +The two men started. + +"Yes," he said boldly, and he regarded each of them in turn. "That is my +proposal: that we ourselves form three of the ballot of four. The fourth +must be an Englishman." + +"Edwards?" said Beratinsky. Reitzei was thinking too much of his own +position to speak. + +"No," said Lind, calmly playing with his pencil, "Edwards is a man of +books, not of action. I have been thinking that the fourth ought to +be--George Brand." + +He watched them both. Reitzei was still preoccupied; but the small black +eyes of Beratinsky twinkled eagerly. + +"Yes, yes, yes! Very good! There we have our four. For myself, I am not +afraid; not I!" + +"And you, Reitzei; are you satisfied?" said Lind merely as a matter of +form. + +The younger man started. + +"Oh yes, the Council must be obeyed," said he, absently. + +"Gentlemen," said Lind, rising, "the business is concluded. Now you may +return to your Culturverein." + +But when the others had risen, he said, in a laughing way, "There is +only one thing I will add: you may think about it at your leisure. The +chances are three to one, and we all run the same risk; but I confess I +should not be sorry to see the Englishman chosen; for, you perceive, +that would make the matter clear enough. They would not accuse an +Englishman of complicity with the Camorra--would they, Reitzei? If the +lot fell to the Englishman, I should not be disappointed--would you, +Beratinsky?" + +Beratinsky, who was about to leave, turned sharply and the coal-black +eyes were fixed intently on Lind's face. + +"I?" he said. "Not I! We will talk again about it, Brother Lind." + +Reitzei opened the door, Lind screwed out the gas, and then the three +men descended the wooden staircase, their footsteps sounding through the +silent house. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII. + +SANTA CLAUS. + + +To save time Brand jumped into a hansom and drove down to Curzon Street. +He was too much preoccupied to remember that Natalie had wished him not +to come to the house. Anneli admitted him, and showed him up-stairs into +the drawing-room. In a couple of seconds or so Natalie herself appeared. + +"Well," said she lightly, "you have come to tell me about Santa Claus? +You have discovered the mysterious messenger?" + +She shut the door and went forward to him. + +"What is the matter?" she said, quickly: there was something in his look +that alarmed her. + +He caught both her hands in his, and held them tight. + +"Nothing to frighten you, at all events," said he: "no, Natalie I have +good news for you. Only--only--you must be brave." + +It was he who was afraid; he did not know how to begin. + +"That locket there," said he, regarding the little silver trinket. "Have +you ever thought about it?--why do you wear it?" + +"Why do I wear it?" she said, simply. "Because one day that Calabressa +was talking to me it occurred to me that the locket might have belonged +to my mother, and that some one had wished to give it to me. He did not +say it was impossible. It was his talk of Natalie and Natalushka that +put it in my head; perhaps it was a stupid fancy." + +"Natalie, the locket did belong to your mother." + +"Ah, you know, then?" she said, quickly, but with nothing beyond a +bright and eager interest. "You have seen that lady? Well, what does she +say?--was she angry that you followed her? Did you thank her for me for +all those presents of flowers?" + +"Natalie," said he almost in despair, "have you never thought about +it--about the locket? Have you never thought of what might be possible?" + +"I do not understand you," she said, with a bewildered air. "What is it? +why do you not speak?" + +"Because I am afraid. See, I hold your hands tight because I am afraid. +And yet it is good news: your heart will be filled with joy; your life +will be quite different from to-day ever after. Natalie, cannot you +imagine for yourself--something beautiful happening to you--something +you may have dreamed of--" + +She became a little pale, but she maintained her calmness. + +"Dearest," said she, "why are you afraid to tell me. You hold my hands: +do they tremble?" + +"But, Natalie, think!" he said. "Think of the locket; it was given you +by one who loved you--who has loved you all these years--and been kept +away from you--and now she is waiting for you." + +He studied her face intently: there was nothing there but a vague +bewilderment. He grew more and more to fear the effect of the shock. + +"Yes, yes. Can you not think, now, if it were possible that one whom you +have always thought to be dead--whom you have loved all through your +life--if it were she herself--" + +She withdrew her hands from his, and caught the back of a chair. She was +ghastly pale; for a second she did not speak. + +"You will kill me--if it is not true," she said, in a low voice, and +still staring at him with frightened, bewildered eyes. + +"Natalie, it is true," said he, stepping forward to catch her by the +arm, for he thought she was going to fall. + +She sunk into a chair, and covered her face with her hands--not to cry, +but to think. She had to reverse the belief of a lifetime in a second. + +But suddenly she started up, her face still white, her lips firm. + +"Take me to her; I must see her; I will go at once." + +"You shall not," he said, promptly; but he himself was beginning to +breathe more freely. "I will not allow you to see her until you are +perfectly calm." + +He put his hand on her arm gently. + +"Natalie," said he, "you must calm yourself--for her sake. She has been +suffering; she is weak; any wild scene would do her harm. You must calm +yourself, my darling; you must be the braver of the two; you must show +yourself very strong--for her sake." + +"I am quite calm," she said, with pale lips. She put her left hand over +her heart. "It is only my heart that beats so." + +"Well, in a little while--" + +"Now--now!" she pleaded, almost wildly. "I must see her. When I try to +think of it, it is like to drive me mad; I cannot think at all. Let us +go!" + +"You must think," he said firmly; "you must think of what you are going +to say; and your dress, too. Natalie, you must take that piece of +scarlet ribbon away; one who is nearly related to you has just died." + +She tore it off instantly. + +"And you know Magyar, don't you, Natalie?" + +"Oh yes, yes." + +"Because your mother has been learning English in order to be able to +speak to you." + +Again she placed her hand over her heart, and there was a look of pain +on her face. + +"My dearest, let us go! I can bear no more: my heart will break! See, am +I not calm enough? Do I tremble?" + +"No, you are very courageous," he said, looking at her doubtfully. + +"Let us go!--let us go!" + +Her entreaties overcame his scruples. The things she had thrown aside on +coming in from her morning walk still lay there; she hastily put them +on; and she herself led the way down-stairs. He put her into the hansom, +and followed; the man drove off. She held her lover's hand tight, as a +sign of her gratitude. + +"Mind, I depend on you, Natalie," he said. + +"Oh, do not fear," she said, rather wildly; "why should one fear? It +seems to me all a strange sort of dream; and I shall waken out of it +by-and-by, and go back to the house. Why should I be surprised to see +her, when she is my constant companion? And do you think I shall not +know what to say?--I have talked to her all my life." + +But when they had reached the house, and were admitted, this +half-hysterical courage had fled. + +"One moment, dearest; give me one moment," she said, at the foot of the +stairs, as if her breath failed her, and she put her hand on his arm. + +"Now, Natalie," he whispered, "you must think of your mother as an +invalid--not to be excited, you understand; there is to be no scene." + +"Yes, yes," she said, but she scarcely heard him. + +"Now go," he said, "and I will wait here." + +"No, I wish you to come," she said. + +"You ought to be alone with her." + +"I wish you to come," she repeated; and she took his hand. + +They went up-stairs; the door was wide open; a figure stood in the +middle of the room. Natalie entered first; she was very white, that was +all. It was the other woman who was trembling--trembling with anxious +fears, and forgetful of every one of the English phrases she had +learned. + +The girl at the door hesitated but for a moment. Breathless, wondering, +she beheld this vision--worn as the face was, she recognized in it the +features she had learned to love; and there were the dark and tender +eyes she had so often held commune with when she was alone. It was only +because she was so startled that she thus hesitated; the next instant +she was in her mother's arms held tight there, her head against her +bosom. + +Then the mother began, in her despair, + +"My--my daughter--you--do--know me?" + +But the girl, not looking up, murmured some few words in a language +Brand did not understand; and at the sound of them the mother uttered a +wild cry of joy, and drew her daughter closer to her, and laid her +streaming, worn, sad face on the beautiful hair. They spoke together in +that tongue; the sounds were soft and tender to the ear; perhaps it was +the yearning of love that made them so. + +Then Natalie remembered her promise. She gently released herself; she +led her mother to a sofa, and made her sit down; she threw herself on +her knees beside her, and kissed her hand; then she buried her head in +her mother's lap. She sobbed once or twice; she was determined not to +give way to tears. And the mother stroked the soft hair of the girl, +which she could hardly see, for her eyes were full; and from time to +time she spoke to her in those gentle, trembling tones, bending over her +and speaking close to her ear. The girl was silent; perhaps afraid to +awake from a dream. + +"Natalie," said George Brand. + +She sprung to her feet. + +"Oh, I beg your pardon--I beg your pardon!" she said, hurriedly. "I had +forgotten--" + +"No, you have not forgotten," he said, with a smile. "You have +remembered; you have behaved well. Now that I have seen you through it, +I am going; you ought to be by yourselves." + +"Oh no!" she said, in a bewildered way. "Without you I am useless: I +cannot think. I should go on talking and talking to my mother all day, +all night--because--because my heart is full. But--but one must do +something. Why is she here? She will come home with me--now!" + +"Natalie," said he, gravely, "you must not even mention such a thing to +her: it would pain her. Can you not see that there are sufficient +reasons why she should not go, when she has not been under your father's +roof for sixteen years?" + +"And why has my father never told me?" the girl said, breathlessly. + +"I cannot say." + +She thought for a moment; but she was too excited to follow out any +train of thinking. + +"Ah," she said, "what matter? I have found a great treasure. And you, +you shall not go: it will be we three together now. Come!" + +She took his hand; she turned to her mother; her face flushed with +shyness. She said something, her eyes turned to the ground, in that soft +musical language he did not understand. + +"I know, my child," the mother answered in French, and she laughed +lightly despite her wet eyes. "Do you think one cannot see?--and I have +been following you like a spy!" + +"Ah, then," said the girl, in the same tongue, "do you see what lies +they tell? They say when the mother comes near her child, the heart of +the child knows and recognizes her. It is not true! it is not true!--or +perhaps one has a colder heart than the others. You have been near to +me, mother; I have watched, as you went away crying, and all I said was, +'Ah, the poor lady, I am sorry for her!' I had no more pity for you than +Anneli had. Anneli used to say, 'Perhaps, fraulein, she has lost some +one who resembles you.'" + +"I had lost you--I had lost you," the mother said, drawing the girl +toward her again. "But now I have found you again, Natalushka. I thank +God for his goodness to me. I said to myself, 'If my child turns away +from me, I will die!' and I thought that if you had any portrait of me, +it would be taken when I was young, and you would not care for an old +woman grown haggard and plain--" + +"Oh, do you think it is for smooth portraits that I care?" the girl +said, impetuously. She drew out from some concealed pocket a small case, +and opened it. "Do you think it is for smooth faces one cares? There--I +will never look at it again!" + +She threw it on to the table with a proud gesture. + +"But you had it next your heart, Natalushka," said her mother, smiling. + +"But I have you in my heart, mother: what do I want with a portrait?" +said the girl. + +She drew her daughter down to her again, and put her arm once more round +her neck. + +"I once had hair like yours, Natalushka, but not so beautiful as yours, +I think. And you wore the locket, too? Did not that make you guess? Had +you no suspicion?" + +"How could I--how could I?" she asked. "Even when I showed it to +Calabressa--" + +Here she stopped suddenly. + +"Did he know, mother?" + +"Oh yes." + +"Then why did he not tell me? Oh, it was cruel!" she said, indignantly. + +"He told me, Natalie," George Brand said. + +"You knew?" the girl said, turning to him with wide eyes. + +"Yes; and Calabressa, when he told me, implored me never to tell you. +Well, perhaps he thought it would give you needless pain. But I was +thinking, within the last few days, that I ought to tell you before I +left for America." + +"Do you hear, mother?" the girl said, in a low voice. "He is going away +to America--and alone. I wished to go; he refuses." + +"Now I am going away much more contented, Natalie, since you will have a +constant companion with you. I presume, madame, you will remain in +England?" + +The elder woman looked up with rather a frightened air. + +"Alas, monsieur, I do not know! When at last I found myself free--when I +knew I could come and speak to my child--that was all I thought of." + +"But you wish to remain in England: is it not so?" + +"What have I in the world now but this beautiful child--whose heart is +not cold, though her mother comes so late to claim her?" + +"Then be satisfied, madame. It is simple. No one can interfere with you. +But I will provide you, if you will allow me, with better lodgings than +these. I have a few days' idleness still before me." + +"That is his way, mother," Natalie said, in a still lower voice. "It is +always about others he is thinking--how to do one a kindness." + +"I presume," he said, in quite a matter-of-fact way, "that you do not +wish your being in London to become known?" + +She looked up timidly, but in truth she could hardly take her attention +away from this newly-found daughter of hers for a single second. She +still continued stroking the soft hair and rounded cheek as she said, + +"If that is possible." + +"It would not be long possible in an open thoroughfare like this," he +said; "But I think I could find you a small old-fashioned house down +about Brompton, with a garden and a high wall. I have passed such places +occasionally. There Natalie could come to see you, and walk with you. +There is another thing," he said, in a matter-of-fact way, taking out +his watch. "It is now nearly two o'clock. Now, dear madame, Natalie is +in the habit of having luncheon at one. You would not like to see your +child starve before your eyes?" + +The elder woman rose instantly; then she colored somewhat. + +"No doubt you did not expect visitors," George Brand said, quickly. +"Well, what do you say to this? Let us get into a four-wheeled cab, and +drive down to my chambers. I have an indefatigable fellow, who could get +something for us in the desert of Saharra." + +"What do you say, child?" + +Natalie had risen too: she was regarding her mother with earnest eyes, +and not thinking much about luncheon. + +"I will do whatever you wish," she was saying: but suddenly she cried, +"Oh, I am indeed so happy!" and flung her arms round her mother's neck, +and burst into a flood of tears for the first time. She had struggled +long; but she had broken down at last. + +"Natalie," said George Brand, pretending to be very anxious about the +time, "could you get your mother's things for her? I think we shall be +down there by a quarter past two." + +She turned to him with her streaming eyes. + +"Yes, we will go with you. Do not let us be separated." + +"Then look sharp," said he, severely. + +Natalie took her mother into the adjoining room. Brand, standing at the +window, succeeded in catching the eye of a cab-man, whom he signaled to +come to the door below. Presently the two women appeared. + +"Now," he said, "Miss Natalie, there is to be no more crying." + +"Oh no!" she said, smiling quite radiantly. "And I am so anxious to see +the rooms--I have heard so much of them from Lord Evelyn." + +She said nothing further then, for she was passing before him on her way +out. In doing so, she managed, unseen, to pick up the miniature she had +thrown on the table. She had made believe to despise that portrait very +much; but all the same, as they went down the dark staircase, she +conveyed it back to the secret little pocket she had made for it--next +her heart. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII. + +A SUMMONS. + + +"Mother," said the girl, in the soft-sounding Magyar, as these two were +together going down-stairs, "give me your hand; let me hold it tight, to +make sure. All the way here I kept terrifying myself by thinking it must +be a dream; that I should wake, and find the world empty without you, +just as before. But now--now with your hand in mine, I am sure." + +"Natalushka, you can hear me speak also. Ghosts do not speak like this, +do they?" + +Brand had preceded them to open the door. As Natalie was passing him she +paused for a second, and regarded him with the beautiful, tender, dark +eyes. + +"I am not likely to forget what I owe to you," she said in English. + +He followed them into the cab. + +"What you owe to me?" he said, lightly. "You owe me nothing at all. But +if you wish to do me a good turn, you may pretend to be pleased with +whatever old Waters can get together for you. The poor old fellow will +be in a dreadful state. To entertain two ladies, and not a moment of +warning! However, we will show you the river, and the boats and things, +and give him a few minutes' grace." + +Indeed, it was entirely as a sort of harmless frolic that he chose to +regard this present excursion of theirs. He was afraid of the effect of +excessive emotion on this worn woman, and he was anxious that she should +see her daughter cheerful and happy. He would not have them think of any +future; above all, he would have nothing said about himself or America; +it was all an affair of the moment--the joyous re-union of mother and +daughter--a pleasant morning with London all busy and astir--the only +serious thing in the whole world the possible anxieties and struggles of +the venerable major-domo in Buckingham Street. + +He had not much difficulty in entertaining these two guests of his on +their way down. They professed to be greatly interested in the history +and antiquities of the old-fashioned little thoroughfare over the river; +arrived there, they regarded with much apparent curiosity the houses +pointed out to them as having been the abode of illustrious personages: +they examined the old water gate; and, in ascending the oak staircase, +they heard of painted ceilings and what not with a deep and respectful +attention. But always these two had each other's hand clasped tight, and +occasionally Natalie murmured a little snatch of Magyar. It was only to +make sure, she explained. + +Before they reached the topmost story they heard a considerable noise +overhead. It was a one-sided altercation; broken and piteous on the one +hand, voluble and angry on the other. + +"It sounds as if Waters were having a row with the man in possession," +Brand said. + +They drew nearer. + +"Why, Natalie, it is your friend Kirski!" + +Brand was following his two guests up-stairs; and so could not interfere +between the two combatants before they arrived. But the moment that +Natalie appeared on the landing there was a dead silence. Kirski shrunk +back with a slight exclamation, and stood looking from one to the other +with a frightened air. She advanced to him and asked him what was the +matter, in his native tongue. He shrunk farther back. The man could not +or would not speak. He murmured something to himself, and stared at her +as if she were a spectre. + +"He has got a letter for you, sir," Waters said; "I have seen the +address; and he will neither leave it nor take it. And as for what he +has been trying to say, Lord A'mighty knows what it is--I don't." + +"Very well--all right," Brand said. "You leave him to us. Cut away and +get some luncheon--whatever you can find--at once." + +But Natalie had gone nearer to the Russian, and was talking to him in +that fearless, gentle way of hers. By-and-by he spoke, in an uncertain, +almost gasping voice. Then he showed her a letter; and, in obedience to +something she said, went timidly forward and placed it in Brand's hand. + + "_A Monsieur, + M. George Brand, Esq., + Londres._" + +This was the superscription; and Brand recognized the handwriting easily +enough. + +"The letter is from Calabressa," he said obviously. "Tell him not to be +alarmed. We shall not eat him, however hungry we may be." + +Kirski had recovered himself somewhat, and was speaking eagerly to her, +in a timid, anxious, imploring fashion. She listened in silence; but she +was clearly somewhat embarrassed, and when she turned to her lover there +was some flush of color on her face. + +"He talks some wild things," she said, "and some foolish things; but he +means no harm. I am sorry for the poor man. He is afraid you are angry +with him; he says he promised never to try to see me; that he would not +have come if he had known. I have told him you are not angry; that it is +not his fault; that you will show that you are not angry." + +But first of all Brand ushered his guests into the long, low-roofed +chamber, and drew the portieres across the middle, so that Waters might +have an apartment for his luncheon preparations. Then he opened the +letter. Kirski remained at the door, with his cap in his hand. + + * * * * * + +"My much-esteemed friend,"--Calabressa wrote, in his ornate, +ungrammatical, and phonetic French--"the poor devil who is the bearer of +this letter is known to you, and yet not altogether known to you. You +know something of his conversion from a wild beast into a man--from the +tiger into a devotee; but you do not, my friend, perhaps entirely know +how his life has become absorbed in one worship, one aspiration, one +desire. The means of the conversion, the instrument, you know, have I +not myself before described it to you? The harassed and bleeding heart, +crushed with scorn and filled with despair--how can a man live with that +in his bosom? He wishes to die. The world has been too cruel to him. But +all at once an angel appears; into the ruins of the wasted life a seed +of kindness is dropped, and then behold the beautiful flower of love +springing up--love that becomes a worship, a religion! Yes, I have said +so much before to you; now I say more; now I entreat you not to check +this beautiful worship--it is sacred. This man goes round the churches; +he stands before the pictures of the saints; he wanders on unsatisfied: +he says there is no saint like the beautiful one in England, who healed +him with her soft words when he was sick to death. But now, my dear +Monsieur Brand, I hear you say to yourself, 'What is my friend +Calabressa after now? Has he taken to the writings of pious sermons? Is +he about to shave his head and put a rope round his waist? My faith, +that is not like that fellow Calabressa!' You are right, my friend. I +describe the creation of the devotee; it is a piece of poetry, as one +might say. But your devotee must have his amulet; is it not so? This is +the meaning and prayer of my letter to you. The bearer of it was willing +to do us a great service; perhaps--if one must confess it--he believed +it was on behalf of the beautiful Natalushka and her father that he was +to undertake the duty that now devolves on some other. One must practice +a little _finesse_ sometimes; what harm is there? Very well. Do you know +what he seeks by way of reward--what he considers the most valuable +thing in the world? It is a portrait of his saint, you understand? That +is the amulet the devotee would have. And I do not further wish to write +to her; no, because she would say, 'What, that is a little matter to do +for my friend Calabressa.' No; I write to you--I write to one who has +knowledge of affairs--and I say to myself, 'If he considers it prudent, +then he will ask the beautiful child to give her portrait to this one +who will worship it.' I have declared to him that I will make the +request; I make it. Do not consider it a trifling matter; it is not to +him; it is the crown of his existence. And if he says, 'Do you see, this +is what I am ready to do for her--I will give my life if she or her +friends wish it;' then I say--I, Calabressa--that a portrait at one +shilling, two shillings, ten shillings, is not so very much in return. +Now, my dear friend, you will consider the prudence of granting his +request and mine. I believe in his faithfulness. If you say to him, 'The +beautiful lady who was kind to you wishes you to do this or do that; or +wishes you never to part with this portrait; or wishes you to keep +silence on this or on that,' you may depend on him. I say so. Adieu! Say +to the little one that there is some one who does not forget her. +Perhaps you will never hear from Calabressa again: remember him not as a +madcap, but as one who wishes you well. To-morrow I start for +Cyprus--then farther--with a light heart. Adieu! + + "Calabressa." + + * * * * * + +He handed the letter to Natalie's mother. The elder woman read the +letter carefully. She laughed quietly; but there were tears in her eyes. + +"It is like my old friend Calabressa," she said. "Natalushka, they want +you to give your portrait to this poor creature who adores you. Why not? +Calabressa says he will do whatever you tell him. Tell him, then, not to +part with it; not to show it to any one, and not to say to any one he +has seen either you or me here. Is not that simple? Tell him to come +here to-morrow or next day; you can send the photograph to Mr. Brand." + +The girl went to the door, and said a few words to Kirski. He said +nothing in reply, but sunk on his knees, as he had done in Curzon +Street, and took her hand and kissed it; then he rose, and bowed +respectfully to the others, and left. + +Presently Waters came in and announced that luncheon was on the table; +the portieres were drawn aside; they passed into the farther end of the +apartment, and sat down. The banquet was not a sumptuous one, and there +were no flowers on the table; but it was everything that any human being +could have done in fifteen minutes; and these were bachelors' rooms. +Natalie took care to make a pretty speech in the hearing of Mr. Waters. + +"Yes, but you eat nothing," the host said. "Do you think your mother +will have anything if she sees you indifferent?" + +Presently the mother, who seemed to be much amused with something or +other, said in French, + +"Ah, my friend, I did not think my child would be so deceitful. I did +not think she would deceive you." + +The girl stared with wide eyes. + +"She pretended to tell you what this poor man said to her," said the +mother, with a quiet smile. "She forgot that some one else than herself +might know Russian." + +Natalie flushed red. + +"Mother!" she remonstrated. "I said he had spoken a lot of foolish +things." + +"After all," said the mother, "he said no more than what Calabressa says +in the letter. You have been kind to him; he regards you as an angel; he +will give you his life; you, or any one whom you love. The poor man! Did +you see how he trembled?" + +Natalie turned to George Brand. + +"He said something more than that," said she. "He said he had undertaken +some duty, some service, that was expected to have cost him his life. He +did not know what it was: do you?" + +"I do not," said he, answering frankly the honest look of her eyes. "I +can scarcely believe any one was foolish enough to think of intrusting +any serious duty to a man like that. But still Calabressa hints as much; +and I know he left England with Calabressa." + +"Natalushka," the mother said, cautiously, and yet with an anxious +scrutiny, "I have often wondered--whether you knew much--much about the +Society." + +"Oh no, mother! I am allowed to translate, and sometimes I hear that +help is to be given here or there; but I am in no secrets at all. That +is my misfortune." + +The mother seemed much relieved. + +"It is not a misfortune, child. You are happier as you are, I think. +Then," she added, with a quick glance, "you have never heard of +one--Bartolotti?" + +"No," she answered; but directly afterwards she exclaimed, "Oh yes, yes! +Bartolotti, that is the name Calabressa gave me. He said if ever I was +in very serious trouble, I was to go to Naples; and that was the +password. But I thought to myself, 'If I am in trouble, why should I not +go to my own father?'" + +The mother rose and went to the girl, and put her arm round her +daughter's neck, and stooped down. + +"Natalushka," said she, earnestly, "you are wiser than Calabressa. If +you are in trouble, do not seek any help that way. Go to your father." + +"And to you, mother," said she, drawing down the worn, beautiful face +and kissing it. "Why not to you also? Why not to you both?" + +The mother smiled, and patted the girl's head, and then returned to the +other side of the table. Waters brought in some fruit, fresh from Covent +Garden. + +He also brought in a letter, which he put beside his master's plate. +Brand did not even look at it; he pushed it aside, to give him more +room. But in pushing it aside he turned it somewhat and Natalie's eye +happening to fall on the address, she perceived at once that it was in +the handwriting of her father. + +"Dearest," said she, in a low voice, and rather breathlessly, "the +letter is from papa." + +"From your father?" said he, without any great concern. Then he turned +to Natalie's mother. "Will you excuse me? My friends are determined to +remind me of their existence to-day." + +But this letter was much shorter than Calabressa's, though it was +friendly enough. + +"My Dear Mr. Brand," it ran,--"I am glad to hear that you acted with so +much promptitude that your preparations for departure are nearly +complete. You are soldier-like. I have less scruples, therefore, in +asking you to be so kind as to give me up to-morrow evening from +half-past nine onward, for the consideration of a very serious order +that has been transmitted to us from the Council. You will perceive that +this claims precedence over any of our local arrangements; and as it may +even involve the abandonment of your voyage to America, it will be +advisable to give it immediate consideration. I trust the hour of +half-past nine will not interfere with any engagement. + + "Your colleague and friend, Ferdinand Lind." + +This was all that an ordinary reader would have seen in the letter; but +Brand observed also, down at the left-hand corner, a small mark in green +color. That tiny arrow, with the two dots--the whole almost +invisible--changed the letter from an invitation into a command. It +signified "On business of the Council." + +He laid down the letter, and said lightly to Natalie, + +"Now I have some news for you. I may not have to go to America after +all." + +"You are not going to America?" she said, in a bewildered way. "Oh, if +it were possible--if it were possible!" she murmured, "I would say I was +too happy. God is too good to me--to have them both given back to me in +one day--both of them in one day--" + +"Natalie," said he, gently, "it is only a possibility, you know." + +"But it is possible!" she said; and there was a quick, strange, happy +light in her face. "It _is_ possible, is it not?" + +Then she glanced at her mother; and her face, that had been somewhat +pale, was pale no longer; the blood mounted to her forehead; her eyes +were downcast. + +"It would please you, would it not?" she said, somewhat formally and in +a low and timid voice. The mother, unobserved, smiled. + +"Oh yes," he said, cheerfully. "But even if I go to America, expect +your mother and you to be arriving at Sandy Hook; and what then? In a +couple of years--it is not a long time--I should have a small steamer +there to meet you, and we could sail up the bay together." + +Luncheon over, they went to the window, and greatly admired the view of +the gardens below and the wide river beyond; and they went round the +room examining the water-colors, and bits of embroidery, and knickknacks +brought from many lands, and they were much interested in one or two +portraits. Altogether they were charmed with the place, though the elder +lady said, in her pretty, careful French, that it was clear no woman's +hand was about, otherwise there would have been white curtains at the +windows besides those heavy straight folds of red. Brand said he +preferred to have plenty of light in the room; and, in fact, at this +moment the sunlight was painting squares of beautiful color on the faded +old Turkey-carpet. All this time Natalie had shown much reserve. + +When the mother and daughter were in the cab together going to Edgware +Road--George Brand was off by himself to Brompton--the mother said, + +"Natalushka, why was your manner so changed to Mr. Brand, after you +heard he might not be going to America?" + +The girl hesitated for a moment, and her eyes were lowered. + +"You see, mother," she said, with some embarrassment, "when one is in +great trouble and difficulty--and when you wish to show sympathy--then, +perhaps, you speak too plainly. You do not think of choosing very +prudent words; your heart speaks for you; and one may say things that a +girl should not be too ready to confess. That is when there is great +trouble, and you are grieved for some one. But--but--when the trouble +goes away--when it is all likely to come right--one remembers--" + +The explanation was rather stammering and confused. + +"But at least, mother," she added, with her eyes still downcast, "at +least I can be frank with you. There is no harm in my telling you that I +love you." + +The mother pressed the hand that she held in hers. + +"And if you tell me often enough, Natalushka, perhaps I shall begin to +believe you." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX. + +A NEW HOME. + + +George Brand set out house-hunting with two exceptional circumstances in +his favor: he knew precisely what he wanted, and he was prepared to pay +for it. Moreover, he undertook the task willingly and cheerfully. It was +something to do. It would fill in a portion of that period of suspense. +It would prevent his harassing himself with speculations as to his own +future--speculations which were obviously useless until he should learn +what was required of him by the Council. + +But none the less was he doomed to the house-hunter's inevitable +disappointment. He found, in the course of his devious wanderings +through all sorts of out-of-the way thoroughfares within a certain +radius from Brompton Church, that the houses which came nearest to his +ideal cottage in a walled garden were either too far away from Hyde +Park, or they were not to be let, or they were to be let unfurnished. +So, like a prudent person, he moderated his desires, and began to cast +about for any furnished house of fairly cheerful aspect, with a garden +behind. But here again he found that the large furnished houses were out +of the question, because they were unnecessarily expensive, and that the +smaller ones were mostly to be found in slummy streets; while in both +cases there was a difficulty about servants. The end of it was that he +took the first floor of an old-fashioned house in Hans Place, being +induced to do so partly because the landlady was a bright, +pleasant-looking little Frenchwoman, and partly because the rooms were +furnished and decorated in a fashion not common to lodging-houses. + +Then came the question of terms, references, and what not; and on all of +these points Mr. Brand showed himself remarkably complaisant. But when +all this was done he sat down, and said, + +"Now I wish you to understand me clearly, madame. This lady I have told +you about has come through much trouble; you are to be kind to her, and +I will see you do not lose by it. Her daughter will come to see her +frequently, perhaps every day; I suppose the young lady's maid can +remain down-stairs somewhere." + +"Oh yes, sir." + +"Very well. Now if you will be so good as to get me pen and ink I will +give you a check for fifty-two pounds--that is, a pound a week for a +year. You see, there are a number of little kindnesses you could show +this poor lady that would be all the more appreciated if they were not +put down in a book and charged for: you understand? You could find out, +perhaps, from time to time some little delicacy she is fond of. Then +flowers: there is a good florist's shop in Sloane Street is there not?" + +"Oh yes, sir." + +She brought the ink, and he drew out the check. + +"Then when the young lady comes to see her mother you will be very +attentive and kind to her too. You must not wait for them to ask for +this or that; you must come up to the door and say 'Will not the young +lady have a cup of chocolate?' or whatever you can suggest--fruit, +biscuits, wine, or what not. And as these little extras will cost you +something, I cannot allow you to be out of pocket; so here is a fund for +you to draw from; and, of course, not a word to either of the ladies. I +think you understand?" + +"Perfectly, sir," said madame. + +"Then, if I hear that you have been very kind and obliging, I suppose +one might be allowed from time to time to send you a little +present--something to beautify your house with? You have pretty rooms; +you have shown great taste in decorating them." + +"Oh, not I, sir," said the little Frenchwoman; "I took the house as it +stands from Mr. ----." + +"The architect," said Brand. "Ah, that explains. But I am surprised he +should have used gas." + +"That _was_ my doing," said the landlady, with some pride. "It is a +great improvement. It is so convenient, is it not?" + +"My dear madame," said Brand, seriously, "it cannot be convenient to +have one's lungs poisoned with the smoke of London gas. You must on no +account allow this lady who is coming to your house to sit through the +long evenings with gas blazing over her head all the time; why, she +would have continual headache. No, no, you must get a couple of +lamps--one for the piano there, and a smaller reading-one fox this +little table by the fire. Then these sconces, you will get candles for +them, of course; red ones look pretty--not pink, but red." + +The French landlady seemed rather dismayed. She had been all smiles and +courtesy so far; but now the bargain did not promise to be so profitable +if this was the way she was to begin. But Brand pulled out his watch. + +"If you will allow me," said he, "I will go and get a few things to +make the room look homely. You see this lady must be made as comfortable +as possible, for she will see no one but her daughter, and all the +evenings she will be alone. Now will you be so good as to have the fire +lit? And these little things I am about to get for you, of course they +will become your property; only you need not say who presented them to +you, you perceive?" + +The little woman's face grew happy again, and she assured him fervently +and repeatedly that he might trust her to do her best for this lady +about whom he seemed so anxious. + +It was almost dusk when he went out; most of the shops in Sloane Street +had their windows lit. He set about this further task of his with an +eager delight. For although it was ostensibly for Natalie's mother that +he was buying this and buying that, there was an underlying +consciousness that Natalie herself would be pleased--that many and many +a time she would occupy that pretty little sitting-room, that perhaps +she might guess who it was who had been so thoughtful about her mother +and herself. Fortunately Sloane Street is an excellent shopping +thoroughfare; he got everything he wanted--even wax candles of the +proper tint of red. He first of all went to the florist's and got fruit +and flowers enough to decorate a hall. Then from shop to shop he +wandered, buying books here, a couple of lamps there, a low, +softly-cushioned easy-chair, a fire-screen, pastils, tins of sweet +biscuits, a dozen or two of Hungarian wine, a tea-making apparatus, a +box of various games, some white rose scent, and he was very near adding +a sewing-machine, but thought he would wait to see whether she +understood the use of that instrument. All these and many other articles +were purchased on the explicit condition that they were to be delivered +in Hans Place within the following half-hour. + +Then he went back to the lodging-house, carrying in his hand the red +candles. These he placed himself in the sconces, and lit them; the +effect was good, now that the fire was blazing cheerfully. One by one +the things arrived; and gradually the lodging-house sitting-room grew +more and more like a home. He put the flowers here and there about the +place, the little Frenchwoman having brought him such, small jars and +vases as were in her possession--these fortunately including a couple of +bits of modern Venetian glass. The reading-lamp was lit and put on the +small table; the newly imported easy-chair was drawn to the fire; some +books and the evening papers scattered about. He lit one of the +pastils, put the fire-screen in its place, and had a last look round. + +Then he got into a hansom and drove up to the house in the Edgware Road. +He was immediately admitted and shown up-stairs. Natalie's mother rose +to receive him; he fancied she had been crying. + +"I am come to take you to your new rooms," he said, cheerfully. "They +are better than these." + +"Ah, that is kind of you," she said, also speaking in French; "but in +truth what do I care where I am? My heart is full of joy. It is enough +for me to sit quiet and say to myself, 'My child loves me. She has not +turned away from me. She is more beautiful even than I had believed; and +she has a good heart. I have no longer any fear.'" + +"Yes, madame," said he, "but you must not sit quiet and think like that, +or you will become ill, and then how are you to go out walking with +Natalie? You have many things to do, and many things to decide on. For +example, you will have to explain to her how it is you may not go to her +father's house. At this moment what other thing than that do you imagine +she is thinking about? She will ask you." + +"I would rather not tell her," said the mother, absently; "it is better +she should not know." + +He hesitated for a second or two. + +"Then it is impossible that a reconciliation between your husband and +yourself--" + +"Oh no, no!" she said, somewhat sadly; "that is impossible, now." + +"And you are anxious he should not know that you and your daughter see +each other." + +"I am not so anxious," she said. "I have faith in Natalushka: I can +perceive her courage. But perhaps it would be better." + +"Very well. Then come to these other rooms I have got for you; they are +in a more secluded neighborhood." + +"Very well, monsieur. I have but few things with me. I will be ready +soon." + +In less than half an hour after that the French landlady was receiving +her new guest; and so eager was she to show to the English gentleman her +gratitude for his substantial presents, that her officious kindness was +almost burdensome. + +"I thank you," said the new-comer, with a smile, as the landlady brought +her a cushion for her back the moment she sat down in the easy chair, +"but I am not yet an invalid." + +Then would madame have some tea? Or perhaps madame had not dined? There +was little in the house; but something could be prepared at once; from +to-morrow morning madame's instructions would be fulfilled to the +letter. To get rid of her, Brand informed her that madame had not dined, +and would be glad to have anything that happened to be in the house. +Then she left, and he was about to leave also. + +"No," said the beautiful mother to him, with a smile on the pale face. +"Sit down; I have something to say to you." + +He sat down, his hat still in his hand. + +"I have not thanked you," she said. "I see who has done all this: do you +think a stranger would know to have the white-rose scent for me that +Natalie uses? She was right: you are kind--you think of others." + +"It is nothing--it is nothing," he said, hastily, and with all an +Englishman's embarrassment. + +"My dear friend," said his companion, with a grave kindness in her tone, +and a look of affectionate interest in her eyes, "I am going to prove my +gratitude to you. I am going to prevent--what do you call it?--a lover's +quarrel." + +He started. + +"Yesterday," she continued, still regarding him in that kindly way, +"before we left your rooms, Natalushka was very reserved toward you; was +it not so? I perceived it; and you?" + +"I--I thought she was tired," he stammered. + +"To-morrow you are to fetch her here; and what if you find her still +more reserved--even cold toward you? You will be pained, perhaps +alarmed. Ah, my dear friend, life is made very bitter sometimes by +mistakes; so it is that I must tell you the reason. The child loves you; +be sure of that. Yes; but she thinks that she has been too frank in +saying so--in time of trouble and anxiety; and now--now that you are +perhaps not going to America--now that perhaps all the trouble is +over--now she is beginning to think she ought to be a little more +discreet, as other young ladies are. The child means no harm, but you +and she must not quarrel." + +He took her hand to bid her good-bye. + +"Natalie and I are not likely to quarrel," said he, cheerfully. "Now I +am going away. If I stayed, you would do nothing but talk about her, +whereas it is necessary that you should have some dinner, then read one +of these books for an hour or so, then go to bed and have a long, sound +night's rest. You must be looking your brightest when she comes to see +you to-morrow." + +And indeed, as it turned out subsequently, this warning; of the +mother's was not wholly unnecessary. Next day at eleven o'clock, as had +previously been arranged, Brand met Natalie at the corner of Great +Stanhope Street to escort her to the house to which her mother had +removed. He had not even got into the park with her when he perceived +that her manner was distinctly reserved. Anneli was with her, and she +kept talking from time to time to the little maid, who was thus obliged, +greatly against her will, to walk close to her mistress. At last Brand +said, + +"Natalie, have I offended you?" + +"Oh no!" she said, in a hurried, low voice. + +"Natalie," said he, very gently, "I once heard of a wicked creature who +was determined to play the hypocrite, and might have done a great deal +of mischief, only she had a most amiable mother, who stepped in and gave +somebody else a warning. Did you ever hear of such a wicked person?" + +The blood mounted to her face. By this time Anneli had taken leave to +fall behind. + +"Then," said the girl, with some hesitation, and yet with firmness, "you +will not misunderstand me. If all the circumstances are to be altered, +then--then you must forget what I have said to you in moments of +trouble. I have a right to ask it. You must forget the past altogether." + +"But it is impossible!" + +"It is necessary." + +For some minutes they walked on in silence. Then he felt a timid touch +on his arm; her hand had been laid there, deprecatingly, for a moment. + +"Are you angry with me?" + +"No, I am not," said he, frankly, "for the very reason that what you ask +is impossible, unnecessary, absurd. You might as well ask me to forget +that I am alive. In any case, isn't it rather too soon? Are you so sure +that all the trouble is past? Wait till the storm is well over, and we +are going into port, then we will put on our Sunday manners to go +ashore." + +"I am afraid you are angry with me," she said again, timidly. + +"You could not make me, if you tried," he said, simply; "but I am proud +of you, Natalie--proud of the courage and clearness and frankness of +your character, and I don't like to see you fall away from that, and +begin to consider what a school-mistress would think of you." + +"It is not what any one may think of me that I consider; it is what I +think of myself," she answered, in the same low voice. + +They reached Hans Place. The mother was at the door of the room to +welcome them. She took her daughter by the hand and led her in. + +"Look round, Natalushka," she said. "Can you guess who has arranged all +this for me--for me and for you?" + +The girl almost instantly turned--her eyes cast down--and took her +lover's hand, and kissed it in silence. That was all. + +Then said he, lightly, as he shoved the low easy-chair nearer the fire, + +"Come, madame, and sit down here; and you, Natalushka, here is a stool +for you, that you will be able to lean your head on your mother's knee. +There; it is a very pretty group: do you know why I make you into a +picture? Well, you see, these are troubled times; and one has one's work +to do; and who can tell what may happen? But don't you see that, +whatever may happen, I can carry away with me this picture; and always, +wherever I may be, I can say to myself that Natalie and her mother are +together in the quiet little room, and that they are happy. Now I must +bid you good-bye; I have a great deal of business to-day with my +solicitor. And the landlady, madame: how does she serve you?" + +"She overwhelms me with kindness." + +"That is excellent," said he, as he shook hands with them and, against +both their protests, took his leave. + +He carried away that picture in his mind. He had left these two +together, and they were happy. What mattered it to him what became of +himself? + +It was on the evening of that day that he had to obey the summons of the +Council. + + + + +CHAPTER XL. + +A CONCLAVE. + + +Punctual to the moment George Brand arrived in Lisle Street. He was +shown into an inner room, where he found Lind seated at a desk, and +Reitzei and Beratinsky standing by the fireplace. On an adjacent table +where four cups of black coffee, four small glasses, a bottle of brandy, +and a box of cigarettes. + +Lind rose to receive him, and was very courteous indeed--apologizing +for having had to break in on his preparations for leaving, and offering +him coffee, cigarettes, and what not. When the new-comer had declined +these, Lind resumed his place and begged the others to be seated. + +"We will proceed to business at once, gentlemen," said he, speaking in +quite an ordinary and matter-of-fact way, "although, I will confess to +you, it is not business entirely to my liking. Perhaps I should not say +so. This paper, you see, contains my authorization from the Council to +summon you and to explain the service they demand: perhaps I should +merely obey, and say nothing. But we are friends; we can speak in +confidence." + +Here Reitzei, who was even more pallid than usual, and whose fingers +seemed somewhat shaky, filled one of the small glasses of brandy, and +drank it off. + +"I do not say that I hesitate," continued Lind--"that I am reluctant, +because the service that is required from us--from one of us four--is +dangerous--is exceedingly dangerous. No," he said, with a brief smile, +"as far as I am myself concerned, I have carried my life in my hands too +often to think much about that. And you, gentlemen, considering the +obligations you have accepted, I take it that the question of possible +harm to yourselves is not likely to interfere with your obedience to the +commands of the Council." + +"As for me," said Reitzei, eagerly and nervously, "I tell you this, I +should like to have something exciting now--I do not care what. I am +tired of this work in London; it is slow, regular, like the ticking of a +clock. I am for something to stir the blood a little. I say that I am +ready for anything." + +"As for me," said Beratinsky, curtly, "no one has ever yet called me a +coward." + +Brand said nothing; but he perceived that this was something unusually +serious, and almost unconsciously he closed his right hand that he might +feel the clasp of Natalie's ring. There was no need to appeal to his +oaths of allegiance. + +Lind proceeded, in a graver fashion, + +"Yes, I confess that personally I am for avoiding violence, for +proceeding according to law. But then the Council would say, perhaps, +'Are there not injuries for which the law gives no redress? Are there +not those who are beyond the power of the law? And we, who have given +our lives to the redressing of wrongs, to the protection of the poor, to +the establishment of the right, are we to stand by and see the moral +sense of the community outraged by those in high places, and say no +word, and lift no hand?'" + +He took up a book that was lying on the table, and opened it at a marked +page. + +"Yes," he said, "there are occasions on which a man may justly take the +law into his own hands; may break the law, and go beyond it, and punish +those whom the law has failed to punish; and the moral sense of the +world will say, 'Well done!' Did you ever happen to read, Mr. Brand, the +letter written by Madame von Maderspach?" + +Brand started at the mention of the name: it recalled the first evening +on which he had seen Natalie. What strange things had happened since +then! He answered that he did not know of Madame von Maderspach's +letter. + +"By chance I came across it to-day," said Lind, looking at the book. +"Listen: 'I was torn from the arms of my husband, from the circle of my +children, from the hallowed sanctuary of my home, charged with no +offence, allowed no hearing, arraigned before no judge. I, a woman, +wife, and mother, was in my own native town, before the people +accustomed to treat me with respect, dragged into a square of soldiers, +and there scourged with rods. Look, I can write this without dropping +dead! But my husband killed himself. Robbed of all other weapons, he +shot himself with a pocket-pistol. The people rose, and would have +killed those who instigated these horrors, but their lives were saved by +the interference of the military.' Very well. Von Maderspach took his +own way; he shot himself. But if, instead of doing that, he had taken +the law into his own hands, and killed the author of such an outrage, do +you think there is a human being in the world who would have blamed +him?" + +He appealed directly to Brand. Brand answered calmly, but with his face +grown rather white, "I think if such a thing were done to--to my wife, I +would have a shot at somebody." + +Perhaps Lind thought that it was the recital of the wrongs of Madame von +Maderspach that had made this man's face grow white, and given him that +look about the mouth; but at all events he continued, "Exactly so. I was +only seeking to show you that there are occasions on which a man might +justly take the law into his own hands. Well, then, some would argue--I +don't say so myself, but some would say--that what a man may do justly +an association may do justly. What would the quick-spreading +civilization of America have done but for the Lynch tribunals? The +respectable people said to themselves, 'it is question of life or +death. We have to attack those scoundrels at once, or society will be +destroyed. We cannot wait for the law: it is powerless.' And so when the +president had given his decision, out they went and caught the +scoundrels, and strung them up to the nearest tree. You do not call them +murderers. John Lynch ought to have a statue in every Western State in +America." + +"Certainly, certainly!" exclaimed Reitzei, reaching over and filling out +another glass of brandy with an unsteady hand. He was usually an +exceedingly temperate person. "We are all agreed. Justice must be done, +whether the law allows or not; I say the quicker the better." + +Lind paid no heed to him, but proceeded quietly, "Now I will come more +directly to what is required of us by the Council; I have been trying to +guess at their view of the question; perhaps I am altogether wrong; but +no matter. And I will ask you to imagine yourselves not here in this +free country of England, where the law is strong--and not only that, but +you have a public opinion that is stronger still--and where it is not +possible that a great Churchman should be a man living in open iniquity, +and an oppressor and a scoundrel--I will ask you to imagine yourselves +living in Italy, let one say in the Papal Territory itself, where the +reign of Christ should be, and where the poor should be cared for, if +there is Christianity still on the earth. And you are poor, let us say; +hardly knowing how to scrape together a handful of food sometimes; and +your children ragged and hungry; and you forced from time to time to go +to the Monte di Pieta to pawn your small belongings, or else you will +die, or you will see your children die before your eyes." + +"Ah, yes, yes!" exclaimed Reitzei. "That is the worst of it--to see +one's children die! That is worse than one's own hunger." + +"And you," continued Lind, quietly, but still with a little more +distinctness of emphasis, "you, you poor devils, you see a great +dignitary of the Church, a great prince among priests, living in +shameless luxury, in violation of every law, human and divine, with the +children of his mistresses set up in palaces, himself living on the fat +of the land. What law does he not break, this libertine, this usurer? +What makes the corn dear, so that you cannot get it for your starving +children?--what but this plunderer, this robber, seizing the funds that +extremity has dragged from the poor in order to buy up the grain of the +States? A pretty speculation! No wonder that you murmur and complain; +that you curse him under your breath, that you call him _il cardinale +affamatore_. And no wonder, if you happen to belong to a great +association that has promised to see justice done, no wonder you come to +that association and say, 'Masters, why cannot justice be done now? It +is too long to wait for the Millennium. Remove this oppressor from the +face of the earth: down with the Starving Cardinal!'" + +"Yes, yes, yes!" cried Reitzei, excitedly. Beratinsky sat silent and +sullen. Brand, with some strange foreboding of what was coming, still +sat with his hand tight closed on Natalie's ring. + +"More," continued Lind--and now, if he was acting, it was a rare piece +of acting, for wrath and indignation gathered on his brow, and increased +the emphasis of his voice--"it is not only your purses, it is not only +your poor starved homesteadings that are attacked, it is the honor of +your women. Whose sister or daughter is safe? Mr. Brand, one of your +English poets has made the poor cry to the rich, + + "'Our sons are your slaves by day, + Our daughters your slaves by night.' + +But what if some day a poor man--I will tell you his name--his name is +De Bedros; he is not a peasant, but a helpless, poor old man--what if +this man comes to the great association that I have mentioned and says, +wringing his hands, 'My Brothers and Companions, you have sworn to +protect the weak and avenge the injured: what is your oath worth if you +do not help me now? My daughter, my only daughter, has been taken from +me, she has been stolen from my side, shrieking with fear, and I thrown +bleeding into the ditch. By whom? By one who is beyond the law; who +laughs at the law; who is the law! But you--you will be the avengers. +Too long has this monster outraged the name of Christ and insulted the +forbearance of his fellow creatures: my Brothers, this is what I demand +from your hands--I demand from the SOCIETY OF THE SEVEN STARS--I demand +from you, the Council--I demand, my Brothers and Companions, a decree of +death against the monster Zaccatelli!'" + +"Yes, yes, yes, the decree!" shouted Reitzei, all trembling. "Who could +refuse it? Or I myself--" + +"Gentlemen," said Lind, calmly, "the decree has been granted. Here is my +authority; read it." + +He held out the paper first of all to Brand, who took it in both his +hands, and forced himself to go over it. But he could not read it very +carefully; his heart was beating quickly; he was thinking of a great +many things all at once--of Lord Evelyn, of Natalie, of his oaths to the +Society, even of his Berkshire home and the beech-woods. He handed on +the paper to Reitzei, who was far too much excited to read it at all. +Beratinsky merely glanced at it carelessly, and put it back on the +table. + +"Gentlemen," Lind continued, returning to his unemotional manner, +"personally, I consider it just that this man, whom the law cannot or +does not choose to reach, should be punished for his long career of +cruelty, oppression, and crime, and punished with death! but, as I +confessed to you before, I could have wished that that punishment had +not been delivered by our hands. We have made great progress in England; +and we have been preaching nothing but peace and good-will, and the use +of lawful means of amelioration. If this deed is traced to our Society, +as it almost certainly will be, it will do us a vast amount of injury +here; for the English people will not be able to understand that such a +state of affairs as I have described can exist, or that this is the only +remedy. As I said to you before, it is with great reluctance that I +summoned you here to-night--" + +"Why so, Brother Lind?" Reitzei broke in, and again he reached over for +the bottle. "We are not cowards, then?" + +Beratinsky took the bottle from him and put it back on the table. + +Reitzei did not resent this interference; he only tried to roll up a +cigarette, and did not succeed very well with his trembling fingers. + +"You will have seen," said Lind, continuing as if there had been no +interruption, "why the Council have demanded this duty of the English +section. The lesson would be thrown away altogether--a valuable life +belonging to the Society would be lost--if it were supposed that this +was an act of private revenge. No; the death of Cardinal Zaccatelli will +be a warning that Europe will take to heart. At least," he added, +thoughtfully, "I hope it will prove to be so, and I hope it will be +unnecessary to repeat the warning." + +"You are exceedingly tender-hearted, Brother Lind," said Reitzei. "Do +you pity this man, then? Do you think he should flourish his crimes in +the face of the world for another twenty, thirty years?" + +"It is unnecessary to say what I think," observed Lind, in the same +quiet fashion. "It is enough for us that we know our duty. The Council +have commanded; we obey." + +"Yes; but let us come to the point, Brother Lind," said Beratinsky, in +a somewhat surly fashion. "I do not much care what happens to me; yet +one wishes to know." + +"Gentlemen," said Lind, composedly, "you know that among the ordinances +of the Society is one to the effect that no member shall be sent on any +duty involving peril to his life without a ballot among at least four +persons. As this particular service is one demanding great secrecy and +circumspection, I have considered it right to limit the ballot to +four--to ourselves, in fact." + +There was not a word said. + +"That the duty involves peril to life is obvious; it will be a miracle +if he who undertakes this affair should escape. As for myself, you will +perceive by the paper you have read that I am commissioned by the +Council to form the ballot, but not instructed to include myself. I +could avoid doing so if I chose, but when I ask my friends to run a +risk, I am willing to take the same risk. For the rest, I have been in +as dangerous enterprises before." + +He leaned over and pulled toward him a sheet of paper. Then he took a +pair of scissors and cut the sheet into four pieces; these he proceeded +to fold up until they were about the size of a shilling, and identically +alike. All the time he was talking. + +"Yes, it will be a dangerous business," he said, slowly, "and one +requiring great forethought and caution. Then I do not say it is +altogether impossible one might escape; though then the warning, the +lesson of this act of punishment might not be so effective: they might +mistake it for a Camorra affair, though the Cardinal himself already +knows otherwise." + +He opened a bottle of red ink that stood by. + +"The simplest means are sufficient," said he. "This is how we used to +settle affairs in '48." + +He opened one of the pieces of paper, and put a cross in red on it, +which he dried on the blotting-paper. Then he folded it up again, threw +the four pieces into a pasteboard box, put down the lid, and shook the +box lightly. + +"Whoever draws the red cross," he said, almost indifferently, "carries +out the command of the Council. Have you anything to say, gentlemen--to +suggest?" + +"Yes," said Reitzei, boldly. + +Lind regarded him. + +"What is the use of the ballot?" said the pallid-faced young man. "What +if one volunteers? I should myself like to settle the business of the +scoundrelly Cardinal." + +Lind shook his head. + +"Impossible. Calabressa thought of a volunteer; he was mad! There must +be a ballot. Come; shall we proceed?" + +He opened the box and put it before Beratinsky. Beratinsky took out one +of the papers, opened it, glanced at it, crumpled it up, and threw it +into the fire. + +"It isn't I, at all events," he said. + +It was Reitzei next. When he glanced at the paper he had drawn, he +crushed it together with an oath, and dashed it on the floor. + +"Of course, of course," he exclaimed, "just when I was eager for a bit +of active service. So it is you, Brother Lind, or our friend Brand who +is to settle the business of the Starving Cardinal." + +Calmly, almost as a matter of course, Lind handed the box to George +Brand; and he, being a proud man, and in the presence of foreigners, was +resolved to show no sign of emotion whatever. When he took out the paper +and opened it, and saw his fate there in the red cross, he laid it on +the table before him without a word. Then he shut his hand on Natalie's +ring. + +"Well," said Lind, rather sadly, as he took out the remaining paper +without looking at it, and threw aside the box, "I almost regret it, as +between you and me. I have less of life to look forward to." + +"I would like to ask one question," said Brand, rising: he was perfectly +firm. + +"Yes?" + +"The orders of the Council must be obeyed. I only wish to know +whether--when--when this thing comes to be done--I must declare my own +name?" + +"Not at all--not at all!" Lind said, quickly. "You may use any name you +like." + +"I am glad of that," he said. Then, with the same proud, impassive +firmness, he made an appointment for the next day, got his hat and coat, +bade his companions good-night, and went down-stairs into the cold night +air. He could not realize as yet all that had happened, but his first +quick, instinctive thought had been, + +"Ah, not that--not the name that my mother bore!" + + + + +CHAPTER XLI. + +IN THE DEEPS. + + +The sudden shock of the cold night air was a relief to his burning +brain; and so also as he passed into the crowded streets, was the low +continuous thunder all around him. The theatres were coming out; cabs, +omnibuses, carriages added to the muffled roar; the pavements were +thronged with people talking, laughing, jostling, calling out one to the +other. He was glad to lose himself in this seething multitude; he was +glad to be hidden by the darkness; he would try to think. + +But his thoughts were too rapid and terrible to be very clear. He only +vaguely knew--it was a consciousness that seemed to possess both heart +and brain like a consuming fire--that the beautiful dreams he had been +dreaming of a future beyond the wide Atlantic, with Natalie living and +working by his side, her proud spirit cheering him on, and refusing to +be daunted--these dreams had been suddenly snatched away from him; and +in their stead, right before him, stood this pitiless, inexorable fate. +He could not quite tell how it had all occurred, but there at least was +the horrible certainty, staring him right in the face. He could not +avoid it; he could not shut his eyes to it, or draw back from it; there +was no escape. Then some wild desire to have the thing done at once +possessed him. At once--at once--and then the grave would cover over his +remorse and despair. Natalie would forget; she had her mother now to +console her. Evelyn would say, "Poor devil, he was not the first who got +into mischief by meddling in schemes without knowing how far he might +have to go." Then amidst all this confused din of the London streets, +what was the phrase that kept ringing in his ears?--"_And when she bids +die he shall surely die!_" But he no longer heard the pathetic vibration +of Natalie Lind's voice; the words seemed to him solemn, and distant, +and hopeless, like a knell. But only if it were over--that was again his +wild desire. In the grave was forgetfulness and peace. + +Presently a curious fancy seized him. At the corner of Windmill Street a +ragged youth was bawling out the name of a French journal. Brand bought +a copy of the journal, passed on, and walked into an adjacent cafe, and +took a seat at one of the small tables. A waiter came to him, and he +mechanically ordered coffee. He began to search this newspaper for the +array of paragraphs usually headed _Tribunaux_. + +At last, in the corner of the newspaper, he found that heading, though +under it there was nothing of any importance or interest. But it was the +heading itself that had a strange fascination for him. He kept his eyes +fixed on it. Then he began to see detached phrases and sentences--or, +perhaps, it was only in his brain that he saw them: "The Assassination +of Count Zaccatelli! The accused, an Englishman, who refuses to declare +his name, admits that he had no personal enmity--commanded to execute +this horrible crime--a punishment decreed by a society which he will not +name--confesses his guilt--is anxious to be sentenced at once, and to +die as soon as the law permits.... This morning the assassin of Cardinal +Zaccatelli, who has declared his name to be Edward Bernard, was +executed." + +He hurriedly folded up the paper, just as if he were afraid of some one +overlooking and reading these words, and glanced around. No one was +regarding him. The cafe was nearly full, and there was plenty of +laughing and talking amidst the glare of the gas. He slunk out of the +place, leaving the coffee untasted. But when he had got outside he +straightened himself up, and his face assumed a firmer expression. He +walked quickly along to Clarges Street. The Evelyns' house was dark from +top to bottom; apparently the family had retired for the night. "Perhaps +he is at the Century," Brand said to himself, as he started off again. +But just as he got to the corner of the street a hansom drove up, and +the driver taking the corner too quickly, sent the wheel on to the curb. + +"Why don't you look where you're going to?" a voice called out from the +inside of the cab. + +"Is that you, Evelyn?" Brand cried. + +"Yes, it is," was the reply; and the hansom was stopped, and Lord Evelyn +descended. "I am happy to say that I can still answer for myself. I +thought we were in for a smash." + +"Can you spare me five minutes?" + +"Five hours if you like." + +The man was paid; the two friends walked along the pavement together. + +"I am glad to have found you after all, Evelyn," Brand said. "The fact +is, my nerves have had a bad shake." + +"I never knew you had any. I always fancied you could drive a +fire-brigade engine full gallop along the Strand on a wet night, with +the theatres coming out." + +"A few minutes' talk with you will help me to pull myself together +again. Need we go into the house?" + +"We sha'n't wake anybody." + +They noiselessly went into the house, and passed along the hall until +they reached a small room behind the dining-room. The gas was lit, +burning low. There were biscuits, seltzer-water, and spirits on the +table. + +Lord Evelyn was in the act of turning the gas higher, when he happened +to catch sight of his friend. He uttered a quick exclamation. Brand, who +sat down in a chair, was crying, with his hands over his face, like a +woman. + +"Great heavens, what is it, Brand?" + +That confession of weakness did not last long. Brand rose to his feet +impatiently, and took a turn or two up and down the small room. + +"What is it? Well, I have received my sentence to-night, Evelyn. But it +isn't that--it is the thought of those I shall leave behind--Natalie, +and those boys of my sister's--if people were to find out after all that +they were related to me!" + +He was looking at the things that presented themselves to his own mind; +he forgot that Evelyn could not understand; he almost forgot that he was +speaking aloud. But by-and-by he got himself better under control. He +sat down again. He forced himself to speak calmly: the only sign of +emotion was that his face was rather pale, and his eyes looked tired and +harassed. + +"Yes, I told you my nervous system had got a shock, Evelyn; but I think +I have got over it. It won't do for me in my position to abandon one's +self to sentiment."' + +"I wish you would tell me what you mean." + +Brand regarded him. + +"I cannot tell you the whole thing, but this will be enough. The Council +have decreed the death of a certain person, and I am appointed his +executioner." + +"You are raving mad!" + +"Perhaps it would be better if I were," he said, with a sigh. "However, +such is the fact. The ballot was taken to-night; the lot fell to me. I +have no one to blame except myself." + +Lord Evelyn was too horrified to speak. The calm manner of his companion +ought to have carried conviction with it; and yet--and yet--how could +such a thing be possible? + +"Yes, I blame myself," Brand said, "for not having made certain +reservations when pledging myself to the Society. But how was one to +think of such things? When Lind used to denounce the outrages of the +Nihilists, and talk with indignation of the useless crimes of the +Camorra, how could one have thought it possible that assassination +should be demanded of you as a duty?" + +"But Lind," Lord Evelyn exclaimed--"surely Lind does not approve of such +a thing?" + +"No, he does not," Brand answered. "He says it will prove a +misfortune--" + +"Then why does he not protest?" + +"Protest against a decree of the Council!" the other exclaimed. "You +don't know as much as I do, Evelyn, about that Council. No, I have sworn +obedience, and I will obey." + +He had recovered his firmness; he seemed resigned--even resolved. It was +his friend who was excited. + +"I tell you all the oaths in the world cannot compel a man to commit +murder," Evelyn said, hotly. + +"Oh, they don't call it murder," Brand replied, without any bitterness +whatever; "they call it a punishment, a warning to the evil-doers of +Europe. And no doubt this man is a great scoundrel, and cannot be +reached by the law; and then, besides, one of the members of the +Society, who is poor and old, and who has suffered grievous wrong from +this man, has appealed to the Council to avenge him. No; I can see their +positions. I have no doubt they believe they are acting justly." + +"But you yourself do not think so." + +"My dear fellow, it is not for the private soldier to ask whether his +sovereign has gone to war justly or unjustly. It is his business to obey +commands--to kill, if need be--according to his oath." + +"Why, you are taking the thing as a matter of course," Lord Evelyn +cried, indignantly. "I cannot believe if possible yet! And--and if it +were possible--consider how I should upbraid myself: it was I who led +you into this affair, Brand." + +"Oh no," said the other, absently. + +He was staring into the smouldering fire; and for a second or two he sat +in silence. Then he said, slowly and thoughtfully, + +"I am afraid I have led a very selfish life. Natalie would not say so; +she is generous. But it is true. Well, this will make some atonement. +She will know that I kept my word to her. She gave me that ring, +Evelyn." + +He held out his hand for a moment + +"It was a pledge that I should never draw back from my allegiance to the +Society. Well, neither she nor I then fancied this thing could happen; +but now I am not going to turn coward. You saw me show the white +feather, Evelyn, for a minute or two: I don't think it was about myself; +it was about her--and--and one or two others. You see our talking +together has sent off all that nervous excitement; now we can speak +about business--" + +"I will not--I will not!" Evelyn said, still greatly moved. "I will go +to Lind himself. I will tell him that no duty of this kind was ever +contemplated by any one joining here. It may be all very well for Naples +or Sicily; it won't do for the people on this side the Channel: it will +ruin his work: he must appeal--I will drive him to it!" + +"My dear fellow," Brand said, quietly, "I told you Lind has accepted the +execution of this affair with reluctance. He knows it will do our +work--well, my share in it will be soon over--no good. But in this +business there in no appeal. You are only a companion; you don't know +what stringent vows you have to undertake when you get into the other +grades. Moreover, I must tell you this thing to his credit. He is not +bound to take the risk of the ballot himself, but he did to-night. It is +all over and settled, Evelyn. What is one man's life, more or less? +People go to throw away hundreds of thousands of lives 'with a light +heart.' And even if this affair should give a slight shock to some of +our friends here, the effect will not be permanent. The organization is +too big, too strong, too eager, to be really injured by such a trifle. I +want to talk about business matters now." + +"I won't hear you--I will not allow this," Lord Evelyn protested, +trembling with excitement. + +"You must hear me; the time is short," Brand said, with decision. "When +this thing has to be done I don't know; I shall probably hear to-morrow; +but I must at once take steps to prevent shame falling on the few +relatives I have. I shall pretend to set out on some hunting-expedition +or other--Africa is a good big place for one to lose one's self in--and +if I do not return, what then? I shall leave you my executor, Evelyn; +or, rather, it will be safer to do the whole thing by deed of gift. I +shall give my eldest sister's son the Buckinghamshire place; then I must +leave the other one something. Five hundred pounds at four per cent, +would pay that poor devil Kirski's rent for him, and help him on a bit. +Then I am going to make you a present, Evelyn; so you see you shall +benefit too. Then as for Natalie--or rather, her mother--" + +"Her mother!" Evelyn stared at him. + +"Natalie's mother is in London: you will learn her story from herself," +Brand continued, briefly. "In the mean time, do not tell Lind until she +permits you. I have taken rooms for her in Hans Place, and Natalie will +no doubt go to see her each day; but I am afraid the poor lady is not +very well off, for the family has always been in political troubles. +Well, you see, Evelyn, I could leave you a certain sum, the interest of +which you could manage to convey to her in some roundabout and delicate +way that would not hurt her pride. You could do this, of course." + +"But you are talking as if your death was certain!" Lord Evelyn +exclaimed, rather wildly. "Even if it is all true, you might escape." + +Brand turned away his head as he spoke. + +"Do you think, then," he said, slowly, "that, even if that were +possible, I should care to live red-handed? The Council cannot demand +that of me too. If there is one bullet for him, the next one will be for +myself; and if I miss the first shot I shall make sure about the second. +There will be no examination of the prisoner, as far as I am concerned. +I shall leave a paper stating the object and cause of my attempt; but I +shall go into it nameless, and the happiest thing I can hope for is that +forgetfulness will gather round it and me as speedily as may be." + +Lord Evelyn was deeply distressed. He could no longer refuse to believe; +and inadvertently he bethought himself of the time when he had besought +and entreated this old friend of his to join the great movement that was +to regenerate Europe. Was this the end, then--a vulgar crime?--the +strong, manly, generous life to be thrown away, and Natalie left +broken-hearted? + +"What about her?" he asked, timidly. + +"About Natalie, do you mean?" said Brand, starting somewhat. "Curiously +enough, I was thinking about her also. I was wondering whether it could +be concealed from her--whether it would not be better to let her imagine +with the others that I had got drowned or killed somewhere. But I could +not do that. The uncertainty would hang over her for years. Better the +sharp pain, at once--of parting; then her mother must take charge of her +and console her, and be kind to her. What I fear most is that she may +blame herself--she may fancy that she is some how responsible--" + +"It is I, surely, who must take, that blame on myself," said Lord +Evelyn, sadly. "But for me, how could you have been led into joining the +Society?" + +"Neither she nor you have anything to reproach yourselves with. What +was my life worth to me when I joined? Then for a time I saw a vision of +what may yet be in the world--of what will be, please God; and what does +it matter if one here or one there falls out of the ranks?--the great +army is moving on: and for a time there were others visions. Poor +Natalie!--I am glad her mother has come to her at last." + +He rose. + +"I wish I could offer you a bed here," Lord Evelyn said. + +"I have a great many things to arrange to-night," he answered, simply. +"Perhaps I may not be able to get to bed at all." + +Lord Evelyn hesitated. + +"When can I see you to-morrow?" he said at length. "You know I am going +to Lind the first thing in the morning." + +Brand stopped abruptly. + +"I must absolutely forbid your doing anything of the kind," said he, +firmly. "This is a matter of the greatest secrecy; there is to be no +talking about it; I have given you some hint, and the same I shall give +to Natalie, and there an end." He added, "Your interference would be +quite useless, Evelyn. The matter is not in Lind's hands." + +He bade his friend good-night. + +"Thank you for letting me bore you so long. You see, I expected talking +over the thing would drive off that first shock of nervousness. Now I am +going to play the part of Karl Sand with indifference. When you hear of +me, you will think I must have been brought up by the Tugendbund or the +Carbonari, or some of those societies." + +This cheerfulness did not quite deceive Lord Evelyn. He bade his friend +good-night with some sadness; his mind was not at ease about the share +he attributed to himself in this calamity. + +When Brand reached his chambers in Buckingham Street there was a small +parcel awaiting him. He opened it, and found a box with, inside, a tiny +nosegay of sweet-smelling flowers. These were not half as splendid as +those he had got the previous afternoon for the rooms in Hans Place, but +there was something accompanying them that gave them sufficient value. +It was a strip of paper, and on it was written--"From Natalie and from +Natalushka, with more than thanks." + +"I will carry them with me," he thought to himself, "until the day of my +death. Perhaps they may not have quite withered by then." + + + + +CHAPTER XLII. + +A COMMUNICATION. + + +Now, he said to himself, he would think no more; he would act. The long +talk with Lord Evelyn had enabled him to pull himself together; there +would be no repetition of that half-hysterical collapse. More than one +of his officer-friends had confessed to him that they had spent the +night before their first battle in abject terror, but that that had all +gone off as soon as they were called into action. And as for himself, he +had many things to arrange before starting on this hunting-expedition, +which was to serve as a cloak for another enterprise. He would have to +write at once, for example, to his sister--an invalid widow, who passed +her life alternately on the Riviera and in Switzerland--informing her of +his intended travels. He would have to see that a sufficient sum was +left for Natalie's mother, and put into discreet hands. The money for +the man Kirski would have to be properly tied up, lest it should prove a +temptation. Why, those two pieces of Italian embroidery lying there, he +had bought them months ago, intending to present them to Natalie, but +from time to time the opportunity had been missed. And so forth, and so +forth. + +But despite all this fortitude, and these commonplace and practical +considerations, his eyes would wander to that little handful of flowers +lying on the table, and his thoughts would wander farther still. As he +pictured to himself his going to the young Hungarian girl, and taking +her hand, and telling her that now it was no longer a parting for a +couple of years, but a parting forever, his heart grew cold and sick. He +thought of her terrified eyes, of her self-reproaches, of her +entreaties, perhaps. + +"I wish Evelyn would tell her," he murmured aloud, and he went to the +window. "Surely it would be better if I were never to see her again." + +It was a long and agonizing night, despite all his resolutions. The gray +morning, appearing palely over the river and the bridges, found him +still pacing up and down there, with nothing settled at all, no letter +written, no memoranda made. All that the night had done was to increase +a hundred-fold his dread of meeting Natalie. And now the daylight only +told him that that interview was coming nearer. It had become a question +of hours. + +At last, worn out with fatigue and despair, he threw himself on a couch +hard by, and presently sunk into a broken and troubled sleep. For now +the mind, emancipated from the control of the will, ran riot; and the +quick-changing pictures that were presented to him were full of fearful +things that shook his very life with terror. Awake he could force +himself to think of this or that; asleep, he was at the mercy of this +lurid imagination that seemed to dye each successive scene in the hue of +blood. First of all, he was in a great cathedral, sombre and vast, and +by the dim light of the candles he saw that some solemn ceremony was +going forward. Priests, mitred and robed, sat in a semicircle in front +of the altar; on the altar-steps were three figures; behind the altar a +space of gloom, from whence issued the soft, clear singing of the +choristers. Then, suddenly, into that clear sweet singing broke a loud +blare of trumpets; a man bounded on to the altar-steps; there was the +flash of a blade--a shriek--a fall; then the roar of a crowd, sullen, +and distant, and awful. It is the cry of a great city; and this poor +crouching fugitive, who hides behind the fountain in the Place, is +watching for his chance to dart away into some place of safety. But the +crowd have let him pass; they are merciful; they are glad of the death +of their enemy; it is only the police he has to fear. What lane is dark +enough? What ruins must he haunt, like a dog, in the night-time? But the +night is full of fire, and the stars overhead are red, and everywhere +there is a roar and a murmur--_the assassination of the Cardinal_! + +Well, it is quieter in this dungeon; and soon there will be an end, and +peace. But for the letters of fire that burns one's brain the place +would be as black as night; and it is still as night; one can sit and +listen. And now that dull throbbing sound--and a strain of music--is it +the young wife who, all unknowing, is digging her husband's grave? How +sad she is! She pities the poor prisoner, whoever he may be. She would +not dig this grave if she knew: she calls herself _Fidelio_; she is +faithful to her love. But now--but now--though this hole is black as +night, and silent, and the waters are lapping outside, cannot one know +what is passing there? There are some who are born to be happy. Ah, look +at the faithful wife now, as she strikes off her husband's +fetters--listen to the glad music, _destin ormai felice!_--they take +each other's hand--they go away proudly into the glad daylight--husband +and wife together for evermore. This poor prisoner listens, though his +heart will break. The happy music grows more and more faint--the husband +and wife are together now--the beautiful white day is around them--the +poor prisoner is left alone: there is no one even coming to bid him +farewell. + +The sleeper moaned in his sleep, and stretched out his hand as if to +seek some other hand. + +"No one--not even a word of good-bye!" he murmured. + +But then the dream changed. And now it was a wild and windy day in the +blowing month of March, and the streams in this Buckinghamshire valley +were swollen, and the woods were bare. Who are these two who come into +the small and bleak church-yard? They are a mother and daughter; they +are all in black; and the face of the daughter is pale, and her eyes +filled with tears. Her face is white, and the flowers she carries are +white, and that is the white tombstone there in the corner--apart from +the others. See how she kneels down at the foot of the grave, and puts +the flowers lightly on the grass, and clasps her trembling hands, and +prays. + +"_Natalie--my wife!_" he calls in his sleep. + +And behold! the white tombstone has letters of fire written on it, and +the white flowers are changed to drops of blood, and the two black +figures have hurried away and disappeared. How the wind tears down this +wide valley, in which there is no sign of life. It is so sad to be left +alone. + +Well, it was about eight o'clock when he was awakened by the entrance of +Waters. He jumped up, and looked around, haggard and bewildered. Then +his first thought was, + +"A few more nights like this, and Zaccatelli will have little to fear." + +He had his bath and breakfast; all the time he was forcing himself into +an indignant self-contempt. He held out his hand before him, expecting +to see it tremble: but no. This reassured him somewhat. + +A little before eleven he was at the house in Hans Place. He was +immediately shown up-stairs. Natalie's mother was there to receive him, +she did not notice he looked tired. + +"Natalie is coming to you this morning?" he said. + +"Oh yes; why not? It gives her pleasure, it gives me joy. But I will not +keep the child always in the house; no, she must have her walk. +Yesterday, after you had left, we went to a very secluded place--a +church not far from here, and a cemetery behind." + +"Oh, yes; I know," he said. "But you might have chosen a more cheerful +place for your walk." + +"Any place is cheerful enough for me when my daughter is with me," said +she, simply; "and it is quiet." + +George Brand sat with his hands clinched. Every moment he thought he +should hear Natalie knock at the door below. + +"Madame," he said, with some little hesitation, "something has happened +of serious importance--I mean, of a little importance. When Natalie +comes I must tell her--" + +"And you wish to see her alone, perhaps?" said the mother, lightly. "Why +not? And listen--it is she herself, I believe!" + +A minute afterward the door was opened, and Natalie entered, radiant, +happy, with glad eyes. Then she started when she saw George Brand there, +but there was no fear in her look. On the contrary, she embraced her +mother; then she went to him, and said, with a pleased flush in her +face, + +"I had no message this morning. You did not care, then, for our little +bunch of flowers?" + +He took her hand, and held it for a second. + +"I thought I should see you to-day, Natalie; I have something to tell +you." + +Her face grew graver. + +"Is it something serious?" + +"Well," said he, to gain time, for the mother was still in the room, "it +is serious or not serious, as you like to take it. It does not involve +the fate of a nation, for example." + +"It is mysterious, at all events." + +At this moment the elder woman took occasion to slip noiselessly from +the room. + +"Natalie," said he, "sit down here by me." + +She put the footstool on which she was accustomed to sit at her mother's +side close to his chair, and seated herself. He took her hand and held +it tight. + +"Natalie," said he, in a low voice--and he was himself rather pale--"I +am going to tell you something that may perhaps startle you, and even +grieve you; but you must keep command over yourself, or you will alarm +your mother--" + +"You are not in danger?" she cried, quickly, but in a low voice: there +was something in his tone that alarmed her. + +"The thing is simple enough," he said, with a forced composure. "You +know that when one has joined a certain Society, and especially when one +has accepted the responsibilities I have, there is nothing that may not +be demanded. Look at this ring, Natalie." + +"Yes, yes," she said, breathlessly. + +"That is a sufficient pledge, even if there were no others. I have sworn +allegiance to the Society at all hazards; I cannot retreat now." + +"But is it so very terrible?" she said, hurriedly. "Dearest, I will +come over to you in America. I have told my mother; she will take me to +you--" + +"I am not going to America, Natalie." + +She looked up bewildered. + +"I have been commissioned to perform another duty, more immediate, more +definite. And I must tell you now, Natalie, all that I dare tell you: +you must be prepared; it is a duty which will cost me my life!" + +"Your life?" she repeated, in a bewildered, wild way, and she hastily +drew her hand away from his. "Your life?" + +"Hush, Natalie!" + +"You are to die!" she exclaimed, and she gazed with terror-stricken eyes +into his face. She forgot all about his allegiance to the Society; she +forgot all about her theories of self-sacrifice; she only heard that the +man she loved was doomed, and she said, in a low, hoarse voice, "And it +is I, then, who have murdered you!" + +"Natalie!" he cried, and he would have taken her hand again, but she +withdrew from him, shuddering. She clasped her hands over her face. + +"Oh, do not touch me," she said, "do not come near me. I have murdered +you: it is I who have murdered you!" + +"For Heaven's sake, Natalie, be calm!" he said to her, in a low, earnest +voice. "Think of your mother: do not alarm her. You knew we might be +parted for years--well, this parting is a little worse to bear, that is +all--and you, who gave me this ring, you are not going to say a word of +regret. No, no, Natalushka, many thousands and thousands of people in +the world have gone through what stands before us now, and wives have +parted from their husbands without a single tear, so proud were they." + +She looked up quickly; her face was white. + +"I have no tears," she said, "none! But some wives have gone with their +husbands into the danger, and have died too--ah, how happy that were for +any one!--and I, why may not I go? I am not afraid to die." + +He laid his hand gently on the dark hair. + +"My child, it is impossible," he said; and then he added, rather sadly, +"It is not an enterprise that any one is likely to gain any honor by--it +is far from that; but it has to be undertaken--that is enough. As for +you--you have your mother to care for now; will not that fill your life +with gladness?" + +"How soon--do--you go away?" she asked, in a low voice. + +"Almost immediately," he said, watching her. She had not shed a +single tear, but there was a strange look on her face. "Nothing +is to be said about it. I shall be supposed to have started on a +travelling-expedition, that is all." + +"And you go--forever?" + +"Yes." + +She rose. + +"We shall see you yet before you go?" + +"Natalie," he said, in despair, "I had come to try to say good-bye to +you; but I cannot, my darling, I cannot! I must see you again." + +"I do not understand why you should wish to see again one like me," she +said, slowly, and the voice did not sound like her own voice. "I have +given you over to death: and, more than that, to a death that is not +honorable; and, yet I cannot even tell you that I am grieved. But there +is pain here." She put her hand over her heart; she staggered back a +little bit; he caught her. + +"Natalie--Natalie!" + +"It is a pain that kills," she said, wildly. + +"Natalie, where is your courage? I give my life without question; you +must bear your part too." + +She still held her hand over her bosom. + +"Yet," she said, as if she had not heard him, "that is what they say; it +kills, this pain in the heart. Why not--if one does not wish to live?" + +At this moment the door was opened, and the mother came into the room. + +"Madame," said Brand, quickly, "come and speak to your daughter. I have +had to tell her something that has upset her, perhaps, for a moment; but +you will console her; she is brave." + +"Child, how you tremble, and how cold your hands are!" the mother cried. + +"It does not matter, mother. From every pain there is a release, is +there not?" + +"I do not understand you, Natalushka?" + +"And I--and I, mother--" + +She was on the point of breaking down, but she held firm. Then she +released herself from her mother's hold, and went forward and took her +lover's hand, and regarded him with the sad, fearless, beautiful eyes. + +"I have been selfish," she said; "I have been thinking of myself, when +that is needless. For me there will be a release--quickly enough: I +shall pray for it. Now tell me what I must do: I will obey you." + +"First, then," said he, speaking in a low voice, and in English, so that +her mother should not understand, "you must make light of this affair, +or you will distress your mother greatly, and she is not able to bear +distress. Some day, if you think it right, you may tell her; you know +nothing that could put the enterprise in peril; she will be as discreet +and silent as yourself, Natalie. Then you must put it out of your mind, +my darling, that you have any share in what has occurred. What have I to +regret? My life was worthless to me; you made it beautiful for a time; +perhaps, who knows, it may after all turn out to have been of some +service, and then there can be no regret at all. They think so, and it +is not for me to question." + +"May I not tell my mother now?" she said, imploringly. "Dearest, how can +I speak to her, and be thinking of you far away?" + +"As you please, Natalie. The little I have told you or Evelyn can do no +harm, so long as you keep it among yourselves." + +"But I shall see again?" It was her heart that cried to him. + +"Oh yes, Natalie," he said, gravely. "I may not have to leave England +for a week or two. I will see you as often as I can until I go, my +darling, though it may only be torture to you." + +"Torture?" she said, sadly. "That will come after--until there is an end +of the pain." + +"Hush, you must not talk like that. You have now one with you whom it is +your duty to support and console. She has not had a very happy life +either, Natalie." + +He was glad now that he was able to leave this terror-stricken girl in +such tender hands. And as for himself, he found, when he had left, that +somehow the strengthening of another had strengthened himself. He had +less dread of the future; his face was firm; the time for vain regrets +was over. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIII. + +A QUARREL. + + +Meanwhile, almost immediately after George Brand had left the house in +Lisle Street, Reitzei and Beratinsky left also. On shutting the +street-door behind them, Beratinsky bade a curt good-night to his +companion, and turned to go; but Reitzei, who seemed to be in very high +spirits, stayed him. + +"No, no, friend Beratinsky; after such a fine night's work I say we must +have a glass of wine together. We will walk up to the Culturverein." + +"It is late," said the other, somewhat ungraciously. + +"Never mind. An hour, three-quarters of an hour, half an hour, what +matter? Come," said he, laying hold of his arm and taking him away +unwillingly, "it is not polite of you to force me to invite myself. I do +not suppose it is the cost of the wine you are thinking of. Mark my +words: when I am elected a member, I shall not be stingy." + +Beratinsky suffered himself to be led away, and together the two walked +up toward Oxford Street. Beratinsky was silent, and even surly: Reitzei +garrulous and self-satisfied. + +"Yes, I repeat it; a good night's work. For the thing had to be done; +there were the Council's orders; and who so appropriate as the +Englishman? Had it been you or I, Beratinsky, or Lind, how could any one +of us have been spared? No doubt the Englishman would have been glad to +have Lind's place, and Lind's daughter, too: however, that is all +settled now, and very well done. I say it was very well done on the part +of Lind. And what did you think of my part, friend Beratinsky?" + +"I think you made a fool of yourself, friend Reitzei," said the other, +abruptly. + +Reitzei was a vain young man, and he had been fishing for praise. + +"I don't know what you mean," he said, angrily. + +"What I mean I say," replied the other, with something very like cool +contempt. "I say you made a fool of yourself. When a man is drunk, he +does his best to appear sober; you, being sober, tried to appear drunk, +and made a fool of yourself." + +"My friend Beratinsky," said the younger man, hotly, "you have a right +to your own opinion--every man has that; but you should take care not +to make an ass of yourself by expressing it. Do not speak of things you +know nothing about--that is my advice to you." + +Beratinsky did not answer; and the two walked on in silence until they +reached the _Verein_, and entered the long, resounding hall, which was +nearly empty. But the few members who remained were making up for their +paucity of numbers by their mirth and noise. As Beratinsky and his +companion took their seats at the upper end of the table the chairman +struck his hammer violently, and commanded silence. + +"Silentium, meine Herren!" he thundered out. "I have a secret to +communicate. A great honor has been done one of our members, and even +his overwhelming modesty permits it to be known at last. Our good friend +Josef Hempel has been appointed Hof-maler to the Grand-duke of ----. I +call in you to drink his health and the Grand-duke's too!" + +Then there was a quick filling of glasses; a general uprising; cries of +"Hempel! Hempel!" "The Duke!" followed by a resounding chorus-- + + "Hoch sollen sie leben! + Hoch sollen sie leben! + Dreimal hoch!"-- + +that echoed away down the empty hall. Then the tumult subsided; and the +president, rising, said gravely, + +"I now call on our good friend Hempel to reply to the toast, and to give +us a few remarks on the condition of art in the Grand Duchy of ----, with +some observations and reflections on the altered position of the Duchy +since the unification of our Fatherland." + +In answer to this summons there rose to his feet a short old gentleman, +with a remarkably fresh complexion, silvery-white hair, and merry blue +eyes that peered through gold-rimmed spectacles. He was all smiles and +blushes; and the longer they cheered the more did he smile and blush. + +"Gentlemen," he said; and this was the signal for further cheering; +"Gentlemen," said the blushing orator, at length, "our friend is at his +old tricks. I cannot make a speech to you--except this: I ask you to +drink a glass of champagne with me. Kellner--Champagner!" + +And he incontinently dropped into his seat again, having forgotten +altogether to acknowledge the compliment paid to himself and the +Grand-duke. + +However, this was like the letting in of water; for no sooner had the +two or three bottles ordered by Herr Hempel been exhausted than one +after another of his companions seemed to consider it was their turn +now, and loud-shouted orders were continually being administered to the +busy waiter. Wine flowed and sparkled; cigars were freely exchanged; the +volume of conversation rose in tone, for all were speaking at once; the +din became fast and furious. + +In the midst of all this Reitzei alone sat apart and silent. Ever since +coming into the room the attention of Beratinsky had been monopolized by +his neighbor, who had just come back from a great artistic _fete_ in +some German town, and who, dressed as the Emperor Barbarossa, and +followed by his knights, had ridden up the big staircase into the +Town-hall. The festivities had lasted for a fortnight; the +Staatsweinkeller had furnished liberal supplies; the Princess Adelheid +had been present at the crowning ceremony. Then he had brought with him +sketches of the various costumes, and so forth. Perhaps it was +inadvertently that Beratinsky so grossly neglected his guest. + +The susceptible vanity of Reitzei had been deeply wounded before he +entered, but now the cup of his wrath was filled to overflowing. The +more champagne he drank--and there was plenty coming and going--the more +sullen he became. For the rest, he had forgotten the circumstance that +he had already drunk two glasses of brandy before his arrival, and that +he had eaten nothing since mid-day. + +At length Beratinsky turned to him. + +"Will you have a cigar, Reitzei?" + +Reitzei's first impulse was to refuse to speak; but his wrongs forced +him. He said, coldly, + +"No, thanks; I have already been offered a cigar by the gentleman next +me. Perhaps you will kindly tell me how one, being sober, had any need +to pretend to be sober?" + +Beratinsky stared at him. + +"Oh, you are thinking about that yet, are you?" he said, indifferently; +and at this moment, as his neighbor called his attention to some further +sketches, he again turned away. + +But now the souls of the sons of the Fatherland, warmed with wine, began +to think of home and love and patriotism, and longed for some more +melodious utterances than this continuous guttural clatter. Silence was +commanded. A handsome young fellow, slim and dark, clearly a Jew, +ascended the platform, and sat down at the piano; the bashful Hempel, +still blushing and laughing, was induced to follow; together they sung, +amidst comparative silence, a duet of Mendelssohn's, set for tenor and +barytone, and sung it very well indeed. There was great applause, but +Hempel insisted on retiring. Left to himself, the young man with the +handsome profile and the finely-set head played a few bars of prelude, +and then, in a remarkably clear and resonant voice, sung Braga's +mystical and tender serenade, the "_Legende Valaque_," amidst a silence +now quite secured. But what was this one voice or that to all the +passion of music demanding utterance? Soon there was a call to the young +gentleman to play an accompaniment; and a huge black-a-vised Hessian, +still sitting at the table, held up his brimming glass, and began, in a +voice like a hundred kettle-drums, + + "Ich nehm' mein Glaschen in die Hand:" + +then came the universal shout of the chorus, ringing to the roof, + + "Vive la Compagneia!" + +Again the raucous voice bawled aloud, + + "Und fahr' damit in's Unterland:" + +and again the thunder of the chorus, this time prolonged, with much +beating of time on the table, and jangling of wine-glasses, + + "Vive la Compagneia! + Vive la, vive la, vive la, va! vive la, vive la, hopsasa! + Vive la Compagneia!" + +And so on to the end, the chorus becoming stormier and more thunderous +than ever; then, when peace had been restored, there was a general +rising, though here and there a final glass was drunk with "stosst an! +setzt an! fertig! los!" and its attendant ceremonies. The meeting had +broken up by common consent; there was a shuffling of footsteps, and +some disjointed talking and calling down the empty hall, were the lights +were already being put out. + +Reitzei had set silent during all this chorus-singing, though +ordinarily, being an excitable person, and indeed rather proud of his +voice, he was ready to roar with any one; and in silence, too, he walked +away with Beratinsky, who either was or appeared to be quite unconscious +of his companion's state of mind. At length Reitzei stopped +short--Oxford Street at this time of the morning was perfectly +silent--and said, + +"Beratinsky, I have a word to say to you." + +"Very well," said the other, though he seemed surprised. + +"I may tell you your manners are none of the best." + +Beratinsky looked at him. + +"Nor your temper," said he, "one would think. Do you still go back to +what I said about your piece of acting? You are a child, Reitzei." + +"I do not care about that," said Reitzei, contemptuously, though he was +not speaking the truth: his self-satisfaction had been grievously hurt. +"You put too great a value on your opinion, Beratinsky; it is not +everything that you know about: we will let that pass. But when one goes +into a society as a guest, one expects to be treated as a guest. No +matter; I was among my own countrymen: I was well enough entertained." + +"It appears so," said Beratinsky, with a sneer: "I should say too well. +My dear friend Reitzei, I am afraid you have been having a little too +much champagne." + +"It was none that you paid for, at all events," was the quick retort. +"No matter; I was among my own countrymen: they are civil; they are not +niggardly." + +"They can afford to spend," said the other, laughing sardonically, "out +of the plunder they take from others." + +"They have fought for what they have," the other said, hotly. "Your +countrymen--what have they ever done? Have they fought? No; they have +conspired, and then run away." + +But Beratinsky was much too cool-blooded a man to get into a quarrel of +this kind; besides, he noticed that Reitzei's speech was occasionally a +little thick. + +"I would advise you to go home and get to bed, friend Reitzei," said he. + +"Not until I have said something to you, Mr. Beratinsky," said the other +with mock politeness. "I have this to say, that your ways of late have +been a little too uncivil; you have been just rather too insolent, my +good friend. Now I tell you frankly it does not do for one in your +position to be uncivil and to make enemies." + +"For one in my position!" Beratinsky repeated, in a tone of raillery. + +"You think it is a joke, then, what happened to-night?" + +"Oh, that is what you mean; but if that is my position, what other is +yours, friend Reitzei?" + +"You pretend not to know. I will tell you: that was got up between you +and Lind; I had nothing to do with it." + +"Ho! ho!" + +"You may laugh; but take care you do not laugh the other way," said the +younger man, who had worked himself into a fury, and was all the madder +on account of the cynical indifference of his antagonist. "I tell you I +had nothing to do with it; it was your scheme and Lind's; I did as I was +bid. I tell you I could make this very plain if--" + +He hesitated. + +"Well--if what?" Beratinsky said, calmly. + +"You know very well. I say you are not in a position to insult people +and make enemies. You are a very clever man in your own estimation, my +friend Beratinsky; but I would give you the advice to be a little more +civil." + +Beratinsky regarded him for a second in silence. + +"I scarcely know whether it is worth while to point out certain things +to you, friend Reitzei, or whether to leave you to go home and sleep off +your anger." + +"My anger, as you call it, is not a thing of the moment. Oh, I assure +you it has nothing to do with the champagne I have just drunk, and which +was not paid for by you, thank God! No; my anger--my wish to have you +alter your manner a little--has been growing for some time; but it is of +late, my dear Beratinsky, that you have become more unbearable than +ever." + +"Don't make a fool of yourself, Reitzei; I at least am not going to +stand in the streets talking nonsense at two in the morning. +Good-night!" + +He stepped from the pavement on to the street, to cross. + +"Stop!" said Reitzei, seizing his arm with both hands. + +Beratinsky shook him off violently, and turned. There might have been a +blow; but Reitzei, who was a coward, shrunk back. + +Beratinsky advanced. + +"Look here, Reitzei," he said, in a low voice, "I think you are sober +enough to understand this. You were throwing out vague threats about +what you might do or might not do; that means that you think you could +go and tell something about the proceedings of to-night: you are a +fool!" + +"Very well--very well." + +"Perhaps you do not remember, for example, Clause I., the very first +clause in the Obligations binding on Officers of the Second Degree; you +do not remember that, perhaps?" He was now talking in a quietly +contemptuous way; the little spasm of anger that had disturbed him when +Reitzei put his hands on his arm had immediately passed away. "The +punishment for any one revealing, for any reason or purpose whatever, +what has been done, or is about to be done by orders of the Council, or +by any one acting under these orders--you remember the rest, my +friend?--the punishment is death! My good Reitzei, do not deprive me of +the pleasure of your companionship; and do not imagine that you can +force people to be polite to you by threats; that is not the way at all. +Go home and sleep away your anger; and do not imagine that you have any +advantage in your position, or that you are less responsible for what +has been done than any one." + +"I am not so sure about that," said Reitzei, sullenly. + +"In the morning you will be sure," said the other, compassionately, as +if he were talking to a child. + +He held out his hand. + +"Come, friend Reitzei," said he, with a sort of pitying kindness, "you +will find in the morning it will be all right. What happened to-night +was well arranged, and well executed; everybody must be satisfied. And +if you were a little too exuberant in your protestations, a little too +anxious to accept the work yourself, and rather too demonstrative with +your tremblings and your professions of courage and your clutching at +the bottle: what then? Every one is not a born actor. Every one must +make a mistake sometimes. But you won't take my hand?" + +"Oh, Mr. Beratinsky," said the other, with profound sarcasm, "how could +you expect it? Take the hand of one so wise as you, so great as you, +such a logician as you are? It would be too much honor; but if you will +allow me I will bid you good-night." + +He turned abruptly and left. Beratinsky stood for a moment or so looking +after him; then he burst into a fit of laughter that sounded along the +empty street. Reitzei heard the laughing behind him. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIV. + +TWICE-TOLD TALE. + + +When the door had closed on George Brand, Natalie stood for a second or +two uncertain, to collect her bewildered thoughts. She heard his +footsteps growing fainter and fainter: the world seemed to sway around +her; life itself to be slipping away. Then suddenly she turned, and +seized her mother by both her hands. + +"Child, child, what is the matter?" the mother cried, terrified by the +piteous eyes and white lips. + +"Ah, you could not have guessed," the girl said, wildly, "you could not +have guessed from his manner what he has told me, could you? He is not +one to say much; he is not one to complain. But he is about to lose his +life, mother--to lose his life! and it is I who have led him to this; it +is I who have killed him!" + +"Natalie," the mother exclaimed, turning rather pale, "you don't know +what you are saying." + +"But it is true; do not you understand, mother?" the girl said, +despairingly. "The Society has given him some duty to do--now, at +once--and it will cost him his life. Oh, do you think he complains?--no, +he is not one to complain. He says it is nothing; he has pledged +himself; he will obey; and what is the value of his one single life? +That is the way he talks, mother. And the parting between him and +me--that is so near, so near now--what is that, when there are thousands +and thousands of such every time that war is declared? I am to make +light of it, mother; I am to think it is nothing at all--that he should +be going away to die!" + +She had been talking quite wildly, almost incoherently; she had not +observed that her mother had grown paler than ever; nor had she heard +the half-murmured exclamation of the elder woman, + +"No, no--not the story twice told; he could not do that!" + +Then, with an unusual firmness and decision, she led her daughter to the +easy-chair, and made her sit down. + +"Natalie," she said, in earnest and grave tones, without any excitement +whatever, "you have told me your father was very much against you +marrying Mr. Brand." + +There was no answer. The girl sitting there could only think of that +terrible thing facing her in the immediate future. + +"Natalie," said her mother, firmly, "I wish you to listen. You said your +father was opposed to your marriage--that he would not hear of it; and +you remember telling me how Mr. Brand had refused to hand over his +property to the Society; and you talked of going to America if Mr. Brand +were sent? Natalie, this is your father's doing!" + +She looked up quickly, not understanding. The elder woman flushed +slightly, but continued in clear and even tones. + +"Perhaps I am wrong, Natalushka; perhaps I should not teach you to +suspect your father. But that is how I see it--this is what I +believe--that Mr. Brand, if what you say is true, is to be sacrificed, +not in the interests of the Society, but because your father is +determined to get him out of the way." + +"Oh, mother, it is impossible! How could any one be so cruel?" + +"It would be strange if the story were to be twice told," the mother +said, absently. Then she took a stool beside her daughter, and sat down +beside her, and took one of her hands in both hers. It was a reversal of +their ordinary position. + +"Listen, Natalie; I am going to tell you a story," she said, with a +curious resignation and sadness in her voice. "I had thought it might be +unnecessary to tell it to you; when Mr. Brand spoke of it, I said no. +But you will judge for yourself, and it will distract your mind for a +little. You must think of a young girl something like yourself, +Natalushka; not so handsome as you are, but a little pretty, and with +many friends. Oh yes, many friends, for at that time the family were in +very brilliant society and had large estates: alas! the estates were +soon all lost in politics, and all that remained to the family was their +name and some tales of what they had done. Well, this young lady, among +all her friends, had one or two sweethearts, as was natural--for there +were a great coming and going then, before the troubles broke out, and +many visitors at the house--only every one thought she ought to marry +her cousin Konrad, for they had been brought up together, and this +cousin Konrad was a good-looking young man, and amiable, and her parents +would have approved. Are you sure you are listening to my story, +Natalushka?" + +"Oh yes, mother," she said, in a low voice; "I think I understand." + +"Well," continued the mother, with rather a sad smile, "you know a girl +does not always choose the one whom her friends choose for her. Among +the two or three sweethearts--that is, those who wished to be +sweethearts, do you understand, Natalushka?--there was one who was more +audacious, perhaps, more persistent than the others; and then he was a +man of great ambition, and of strong political views; and the young lady +I was telling you about, Natalushka, had been brought up to the +political atmosphere, and had opinions also. She believed this man was +capable of doing great things; and her friends not objecting, she, after +a few years of waiting, owing to the troubles of political matters, +married him." + +She was silent for a moment or two. + +"Yes, they were married," she continued, with a sigh, "and for a time +every thing was happy, though the political affairs were so untoward, +and cost much suffering and danger. The young wife only admired her +husband's determined will, his audacity, his ambition after leadership +and power. But in the midst of all this, as time went on, he began to +grow jealous of the cousin Konrad; and Konrad, though he was a +light-hearted young fellow, and meaning no harm whatever, resented being +forbidden to see his cousin. He refused to cease visiting the house, +though the young wife begged him to do so. He was very proud and +self-willed, you must know, Natalushka. Well, the husband did not say +much, but he was morose, and once or twice he said to his wife, 'It is +not your fault that your cousin is impertinent; but let him take care.' +Then one day an old friend of his wife's father came to her, and said, +'Do you know what has happened? You are not likely to see your cousin +Konrad again. The Russian General ----, whom we bribed with twenty-four +thousand rubles to give us ten passports for crossing the frontier, now +refuses to give them, and Konrad has been sent to kill him, as a warning +to the others; he will be taken, and hanged.' I forgot to tell you, +Natalushka, that the girl I am speaking of was in all the secrets of the +association which had been started. You are more fortunate; you know +nothing." + +The interest of the listener had now been thoroughly aroused. She had +turned toward her mother, and had put her remaining hand over hers. + +"Well, this friend hinted something more; he hinted that it was the +husband of this young wife who had sent Konrad on this mission, and that +the means employed had not been quite fair." + +"Mother, what do you mean?" Natalie said, breathlessly. + +"I am telling you a story that really happened, Natalushka," said the +mother, calmly, and with the same pathetic touch in her voice. "Then the +young wife, without consideration--so anxious was she to save the life +of her cousin--went straight to the highest authorities of the +association, and appealed to them. The influence of her family aided +her. She was listened to; there was an examination; what the friend had +hinted was found to be true; the commission was annulled; Konrad was +given his liberty!" + +"Yes, yes!" said Natalie, eagerly. + +"But listen, Natalushka; I said I would tell you the whole story; it has +been kept from you for many a year. When it was found that the husband +had made use of the machinery of the association for his own +ends--which, it appears, was a great crime in their eyes--he was +degraded, and forbidden all hope of joining the Council, the ruling +body. He was in a terrible rage, for he was mad with ambition. He drove +the wife from his house--rather, he left the house himself--and he took +away with him their only child, a little girl scarcely two years old; +and he threatened the mother with the most terrible penalties if ever +again she should speak to her own child! Natalushka, do you understand +me? Do you wonder that my face is worn with grief? For sixteen years +that mother, who loved her daughter better than anything in the world, +was not permitted to speak to her, could only regard her from a +distance, and not tell her how she loved her." + +The girl uttered a cry of compassion, and wound her arms round her +mother's neck. + +"Oh, the cruelty of it!--the cruelty of it, mother! But why did you not +come to me? Do you think I would not have left everything to go with +you--you, alone and suffering?" + +For a time the mother could not answer, so deep were her sobs. + +"Natalushka," she said at length, in a broken voice, "no fear of any +danger threatening myself would have kept me from you; be sure of that. +But there was something else. My father had become compromised--the +Austrians said it was assassination; it was not!" For a second some hot +blood mounted to her cheeks. "I say it was a fair duel, and your +grandfather himself was nearly killed; but he escaped, and got into +hiding among some faithful friends--poor people, who had known our +family in better times. The Government did what they could to arrest +him; he was expressly exempted from the amnesty, this old man, who was +wounded, who was incapable of movement almost, whom every one expected +to die from day to day, and a word would have betrayed him and destroyed +him. Can you wonder, Natalushka, with that threat hanging over me--that +menace that the moment I spoke to you meant that my father would be +delivered to his enemies--that I said 'No, not yet will I speak to my +little daughter; I cannot sacrifice my father's life even to the +affection of a mother! But soon, when I have given him such care and +solace as he has the right to demand from me, then I will set out to see +my beautiful child--not with baskets of flowers, haunting the +door-steps--not with a little trinket, to drop in her lap, and perhaps +set her mind thinking--no, but with open arms and open heart, to see if +she is not afraid to call me mother.'" + +"Poor mother, how you must have suffered," the girl murmured, holding +her close to her bosom. "But with your powerful friends--those to whom +you appealed to before--why did you not go to them, and get safety from +the terrible threat hanging over you? Could they not protect him, my +grandfather, as they saved your cousin Konrad?" + +"Alas, child, your grandfather never belonged to the association! Of +what use was he to them--a sufferer expecting each day to be his last, +and not daring to move beyond the door of the peasant's cottage that +sheltered him? many a time he used to say to me, 'Natalie, go to your +child. I am already dead; what matters it whether they take me or not? +You have watched the old tree fade leaf by leaf; it is only the stump +that cumbers the ground. Go to your child; if they try to drag me from +here, the first mile will be the end; and what better can one wish for?' +But no; I could not do that." + +Natalie had been thinking deeply; she raised her head, and regarded her +mother with a calm, strange look. + +"Mother," she said, slowly, "I do not think I will ever enter my +father's house again." + +The elder woman heard this declaration without either surprise or joy. +She said, simply, + +"Do not judge rashly or harshly, Natalushka. Why have I refrained until +now from telling you the story but that I thought it better--I thought +you would be happier if you continued to respect and love your father. +Then consider what excuses may be made for him--" + +"None!" the girl said, vehemently. "To keep you suffering for sixteen +years away from your only child, and with the knowledge that at any +moment a word on his part might lead out your father to a cruel +death--oh, mother mother, you may ask me to forgive, but not to excuse!" + +"Ambition--the desire for influence and leadership--is his very life," +the mother said, calmly. "He cares more for that than anything in the +world--wife, child, anything, he would sacrifice to it. But now, child," +she said, with a concerned look, "can you understand why I have told you +the story?" + +Natalie looked up bewildered. For a time the interest of this story, +intense as it had been to her, had distracted her mind from her own +troubles; though all through she been conscious of some impending gloom +that seemed to darken the life around her. + +"It was not merely to tell you of my sufferings, Natalushka," the mother +said at once, gently and anxiously; "they are over. I am happy to be +beside you; if you are happy. But when a little time ago you told me of +Mr. Brand being ordered away to this duty, and of the fate likely to +befall him, I said to myself, 'Ah, no; surely it cannot be the story +told twice over. He would not dare to do that again.'" + +The girl turned deadly pale. + +"My child, that is why I asked you. Mr. Brand disappointed your father, +I can see, about the money affair. Then, when he might have been got out +of the way by being sent to America, you make matters worse than ever by +threatening to go with him." + +The girl did not speak, but her eyes were terrified. + +"Natalie," the mother said gently, "have I done wrong to put these +suspicions into your mind? Have I done wrong to put you into antagonism +with your father? My child I cannot see you suffer without revealing to +you what I imagine may be the cause--even if it were impossible to fight +against it--even if one can only shudder at the cruelty of which some +are capable: we can pray God to give us resignation." + +Natalie Lind was not listening at all; her face was white, her lips +firm, her eyes fixed. + +"Mother," she said at length, in a low voice, and speaking as if she +were weighing each word, "if you think the story is being told again, +why should it not be carried out? You appealed, to save the life of one +who loved you. And I--why may not I also?" + +"Oh, child, child!" the mother cried in terror, laying hold of her arm. +"Do not think of it: anything but that! You do not know how terrible +your father is when his anger is aroused: look at what I have suffered. +Natalushka, I will not have you lead the life that I have led; you must +not, you dare not, interfere!" + +The girl put her hand aside, and sprung to her feet. No longer was she +white of face. The blood of the Berezolyis was in her cheeks; her eyes +were dilated; her voice was proud and indignant. + +"And I," she said, "if this is true--if this is possible--Oh, do you +think I am going to see a brave man sent to his death, shamelessly, +cruelly, and not do what I can to save him? It is not for you, mother, +it is not for one who bears the name that you bear to tell me to be +afraid. What I did fear was to live, with him dead. Now--" + +The mother had risen quickly to her feet also, and sought to hold her +daughter's hands. + +"For the sake of Heaven, Natalushka!" she pleaded. "You are running into +a terrible danger--" + +"Do I care, mother? Do I look as if I cared?" she said, proudly. + +"And for no purpose, Natalushka; you will only bring down on yourself +the fury of your father, and he will make your life as miserable as he +has made mine. And what can you do, child? what can you do but bring +ruin on yourself? You are powerless: you have no influence with those in +authority as I at one time had. You do not know them: how can you reach +them?" + +"You forget, mother," the girl said, triumphantly; "was it not you +yourself who asked me if I had ever heard of one Bartolotti?" + +The mother uttered a slight cry of alarm. + +"No, no, Natalushka, I beg of you--" + +The girl took her mother in her arms and kissed her. There was a strange +joy in her face; the eyes were no longer haggard, but full of light and +hope. + +"You dear mother," she said, as she gently compelled her to be seated +again, "that is the place for you. You will remain here, quiet, +undisturbed by any fears; no one shall molest you; and when you have +quite recovered from all your sufferings, and when your courage has +returned to you, then I will come back and tell you my story. It is +story for story, is it not?"' + +She rung the bell. + +"Pardon me, dear mother; there is no time to be lost. For once I return +to my father's house--yes, there is a card there that I must have--" + +"But afterward, child, where do you go?" the mother said, though she +could scarcely find utterance. + +"Why, to Naples, mother; I am an experienced traveller; I shall need no +courier." + +The blood had mounted into both cheek and forehead; her eyes were full +of life and pride; even at such a moment the anxious, frightened mother +was forced to think she had never seen her daughter look so beautiful. + +The door opened. + +"Madame, be so good as to tell Anneli that I am ready." + +She turned to her mother. + +"Now, mother, it is good-bye for I do not know how long." + +"Oh no, it is not, child," said the other, trembling, and yet smiling in +spite of all her fears. "If you are going to travel, you must have a +courier. I will be your courier, Natalushka." + +"Will you come with me, mother?" she cried, with a happy light leaping +to her eyes. "Come, then--we will give courage to each other, you and I, +shall we not? Ah, dear mother, you have told me your story only in time; +but we will go quickly now--you and I together!" + + + + +CHAPTER XLV. + +SOUTHWARD. + + +After so much violent emotion the rapid and eager preparations for +travel proved a useful distraction. There was no time to lose; and +Natalie very speedily found that it was she herself who must undertake +the duties of a courier, her mother being far too anxious and alarmed. +Once or twice, indeed, the girl, regarding the worn, sad face, almost +repented of having accepted that impulsive offer, and would have +proposed to start alone. But she knew that, left in solitude, the poor +distressed mother would only torture herself with imaginary fears. As +for herself, she had no fear; her heart was too full to have any room +for fear. And yet her hand trembled a little as she sat down to write +these two messages of farewell. The first ran thus: + +"My Father,--To-day, for the first time, I have heard my mother's story +from herself. I have looked into her eyes; I know she speaks the truth. +You will not wonder then that I leave your house--that I go with her; +there must be some one to try to console her for all she has suffered, +and I am her daughter. I thank you for many years of kindness, and pray +God to bless you. + + Natalie." + +The next was easier to write. + +"Dearest,--My mother and I leave England to-night. Do not ask why we go, +or why I have not sent for you to come and say good-bye. We shall be +away perhaps only a few days; in any case you must not go until we +return. Do not forget that I must see you again." + + Natalie." + +She felt happier when she had written these two notes. She rose from the +table and went over to her mother. + +"Now, mother, tell me how much money you have," she said, with a highly +practical air. "What, have I startled you, poor little mother? I believe +your head is full of all kinds of strange forebodings; and yet they used +to say that the Berezolyis were all of them very courageous." + +"Natalushka, you do not know what danger you are rushing into," the +mother said, absently. + +"I again ask you, mother, a simple question: how much money have you?" + +"I? I have thirty pounds or thereabout, Natalie; that is my capital, as +it were; but next month my cousins will send me--" + +"Never mind about next month, mother dear. You must let me rob you of +all your thirty pounds; and, just to make sure, I will go and borrow ten +pounds more from Madame Potecki. Madame is not so very poor; she has +savings; she would give me every farthing if I asked her. And do you +think, little mother, if we come back successful--do you think there +will be a great difficulty about paying back the loan to Madame +Potecki?" + +She was quite gay, to give her mother courage; and she refused to leave +her alone, a prey to these gloomy forebodings. She carried her off with +her in the cab to Curzon Street, and left her in the cab while she +entered the house with Anneli. Anneli cried a little when she was +receiving her mistress's last instructions. + +"Am I never to see you again, Fraulein?" she sobbed. "Are you never +coming back to the house any more?" + +"Of course you will see me again, you foolish girl, even if I do not +come back here. Now you will be careful, Anneli, to have the wine a +little warmed before dinner, and see that your master's slippers are in +the study by the fire; and the coffee--you must make the coffee +yourself, Anneli--" + +"Oh yes, indeed, Fraulein, I will make the coffee," said Anneli, with a +fresh flowing of tears. "But--but may not I go with you, Fraulein?--if +you are not coming back here any more, why may I not go with you? I am +not anxious for wages, Fraulein--I do not want any wages at all; but if +you will take me with you--" + +"Now, do not be foolish, Anneli. Have you not a whole house to look +after? There, take these keys; you will have to show that you can be a +good house-mistress, and sensible, and not childish." + +At the door she shook hands with the sobbing maid, and bade her a +cheerful good-bye. Then she got into the cab and drove away to Madame +Potecki's lodgings. Finally, by dexterous management, she succeeded in +getting her mother and herself to Charing Cross Station in time to catch +the afternoon express to Dover. + +It is probable that, now the first excitement of setting out was over, +and the two women-folk left to themselves in the solitude of a +compartment, Natalie might have begun to reflect with some tremor of the +heart on the very vagueness of the task she had undertaken. But she was +not permitted to do so. The necessity of driving away her mother's +forebodings prevented her indulging in any of her own. She was forced to +be careless, cheerful, matter-of-fact. + +"Natalushka," the mother said, holding her daughter's hand, "you have +been brought up in ignorance. You know only the romantic, the beautiful +side of what is going on; you do not know what these men are ready to +do--what has been done--to secure the success of their schemes. And for +you, a girl, to interfere, it is madness, Natalushka. They will laugh at +you, perhaps; perhaps it may be worse; they may resent your +interference, and ask who has betrayed their secrets." + +"Are they so very terrible, then?" said the girl, with a smile, "when +Lord Evelyn--ah, you do not know him yet, mother; but he is as gentle as +a woman--when he is their friend; and when Mr. Brand is full of +admiration for what they are doing; and when Calabressa--Now, mother, is +Calabressa likely to harm any one? And it was Calabressa himself who +said to me, 'Little daughter, if ever you are in great trouble, go to +Naples. You will find friends there.' No, mother, it is no use your +trying to frighten me. No; let us talk about something sensible; for +example, which way is the wind?" + +"How can I tell, Natalushka?" + +The girl laughed--rather a forced laugh, perhaps; she could not +altogether shake off the consciousness of the peril that surrounded her +lover. + +"Why, mother, you are a pretty courier! You are about to cross the +Channel, and you do not know which way the wind is, or whether the sea +is rough, or anything. Now I will tell you; it is I who am the courier. +The wind is northeast; the sea was quite smooth yesterday evening; I +think we shall have a comfortable passage. And do you know why I have +brought you away by this train? Don't you know that I shall get you down +to Dover in time to give you something nice for dinner; then, if the sea +is quite smooth, we go on board before the people come; then we cross +over to Calais and go to a hotel there; then you get a good, long, sound +sleep, you little mother, and the next day--that is to-morrow--about +noon, I think, we go easily on to Paris. What do you think of that, +now?" + +"Whatever you do will be right, Natalushka; you know I have never before +had a daughter to look after me." + +Natalie's programme was fulfilled to the letter, and with good fortune. +They dined in the hotel, had some tea, and then went down through the +dark clear night to the packet. The sea was like a mill-pond; there was +just sufficient motion of the water to make the reflections of the stars +quiver in the dark. The two women sat together on deck; and as the +steamer gradually took them away from the lights of the English coast, +Natalie sung to her mother, in a low voice, some verses of an old Magyar +song, which were scarcely audible amidst the rush of water and the +throbbing of the paddles. + +Next day the long and tedious railway journey began; and here again +Natalie acted as the most indefatigable and accomplished of couriers. + +"How do you manage it, Natalushka?" said the mother, as she got into the +_coupe_, to this tall and handsome young lady who was standing outside, +and on whom everybody seemed to wait. "You get everything you want, and +without trouble." + +"It is only practice, with a little patience," she said, simply, as she +opened her flask of white-rose scent and handed it up to her mother. + +Necessarily, it was rail all the way for these two travellers. Not for +them the joyous assembling on the Mediterranean shore, where Nice lies +basking in the sun like a pink surf thrown up by the waves. Not for them +the packing of the great carriage, and the swinging away of the four +horses with their jingling bells, and the slow climbing of the Cornice, +the road twisting up the face of the gray mountains, through perpetual +lemon-groves, with far below the ribbed blue sea. Not for them the +leisurely trotting all day long through the luxuriant beauty of the +Riviera--the sun hot on the ruddy cliffs of granite, and on the terraces +of figs and vines and spreading palms; nor the rattling through the +narrow streets of the old walled towns, with the scarlet-capped men and +swarthy-visaged women shrinking into the door-ways as the horses clatter +by; nor the quiet evenings in the hotel garden, with the moon rising +over the murmuring sea, and the air sweet with the perfumes of the +south. No. They climbed a mountain, it is true, but it was behind an +engine; they beheld the Mont Cenis snows, but it was from the window of +a railway-carriage. Then they passed through the black, resounding +tunnel, with, after a time, its sudden glares of light; finally the +world seemed to open around them; they looked down upon Italy. + +"Many a one has died for you, and been glad," said the girl, almost to +herself, as she gazed abroad on the great valleys, with here and there a +peak crowned with a castle or a convent, with the vine-terraced hills +showing now and again a few white dots of houses, and beyond and above +all these the far blue mountains, with their sharp line of snow. + +Then they descended, and passed through the luxuriant yellow plains--the +sunset blazing on the rows of willows and on the square farm-houses with +their gaudy picture over the arched gateway; while always in the +background rose the dark masses of the mountains, solemn and distant, +beyond the golden glow of the fields. They reached Turin at dusk, both +of them very tired. + +So far scarcely anything had been said about the object of their +journey, though they could have talked in safety even in +railway-carriages, as they spoke to each other in Magyar. But Natalie +refused to listen to any dissuading counsel; when her mother began, she +would say, "Dear little mother, will you have some white rose for your +forehead and your fingers?" + +From Turin they had to start again early in the morning. They had by +this time grown quite accustomed to the plod, plodding of the train; it +seemed almost one of the normal and necessary conditions of life. They +went down by Genoa, Spezia, Pisa, Sienna, and Rome, making the shortest +possible pauses. + +One night the windows of a sitting-room in a hotel at the western end of +Naples were opened, and a young girl stepped out on to the high balcony, +a light shawl thrown over her head and shoulders. It was a beautiful +night; the air sweet and still; the moonlight shining over the scarcely +stirring waters of the bay. Before her rose the vast bulk of the +Castello dell' Ovo, a huge mass of black shadow against the silvery sea +and the lambent sky: then far away throbbed the dull orange lights of +the city; and beyond these, again, Vesuvius towered into the clear +darkness, with a line of sharp, intense crimson marking its summit. +Through the perfect silence she could hear the sound of the oars of a +boat, itself unseen; and over the whispering waters came some faint and +distant refrain, "_Addio! addio!_" At length even these sounds ceased, +and she was alone in the still, murmuring beautiful night. + +She looked across to the great city. Who were her unknown friends there? +What mighty power was she about to invoke on the morrow? There was no +need for her to consult the card that Calabressa had given her; again +and again, in the night-time, when her mother lay asleep, she had +studied it, and wondered whether it would prove the talisman the giver +had called it. She looked at this great city beside the sea, and only +knew that it was beautiful in the moonlight; she had no fear of anything +that it contained. And then she thought of another city, far away in the +colder north, and she wondered if a certain window were open there, +overlooking the river and the gas-lamp and the bridges, and whether +there was one there thinking of her. Could not the night-wind carry the +speech and desire of her heart?--"Good-night, good-night.... Love knows +no fear.... Not yet is our life forever broken for us." + + + + +CHAPTER XLVI. + +THE BEECHES. + + +On the same night Lord Evelyn was in Brand's rooms, arguing, +expostulating, entreating, all to no purpose. He was astounded at the +calmness with which this man appeared to accept the terrible task +imposed on him, and at the stoical indifference with which he looked +forward to the almost certain sacrifice of his own life. + +"You have become a fanatic of fanatics!" he exclaimed, indignantly. + +George Brand was staring out of the windows into the dark night, +somewhat absently. + +"I suppose," he answered, "all the great things that have been done in +the world have been founded in fanaticism. All that I can hope for now +is that this particular act of the Council may have the good effect +they hope from it. They ought to know. They see the sort of people with +whom they have to deal. I should have thought, with Lind, that it was +unwise--that it would shock, or even terrify; but my opinion is neither +here nor there. Further talking is of no use, Evelyn; the thing is +settled; what I have to consider now, as regards myself, is how I can +best benefit a few people whom I am interested in, and you can help me +in that." + +"But I appeal to yourself--to your conscience!" Lord Evelyn cried, +almost in despair. "You cannot shift the responsibility to them. You are +answerable for your own actions. I say you are sacrificing your +conscience to your pride. You are saying to yourself, 'Do these +foreigners think that I am afraid?'" + +"I am not thinking of myself at all," said Brand, simply; "that is all +over. When I swore to give myself to this Society--to obey the commands +of the Council--then my responsibility ceased. What I have to do is to +be faithful to my oath, and to the promise I have made." Almost +unconsciously he glanced at the ring that Natalie had given him. "You +would not have me skulk back like a coward? You would not have me 'play +and not pay?' What I have undertaken to do I will do." + +Presently he added, + +"There is something you could do, Evelyn. Don't let us talk further of +myself: I said before, if a single man drops out of the ranks, what +matter?--the army marches on. And what has been concerning me of late is +the effect that this act of the Council may have on our thousands of +friends throughout this country. Now, Evelyn, when--when the affair +comes off, I think you would do a great deal of good by pointing out in +the papers what a scoundrel this man Zaccatelli was; how he had merited +his punishment, and how it might seem justifiable to the people over +there that one should take the law into one's own hands in such an +exceptional case. You might do that, Evelyn, for the sake of the +Society. The people over here don't know what a ruffian he is, and how +he is beyond the ordinary reach of the law, or how the poor people have +groaned under his iniquities. Don't seek to justify me; I shall be +beyond the reach of excuse or execration by that time; but you might +break the shock, don't you see?--you might explain a little--you might +intimate to our friends who have joined us here that they had not joined +any kind of Camorra association. That troubles me more than anything. I +confess to you that I have got quite reconciled to the affair, as far +as any sacrifice on my own part is concerned. That bitterness is over; I +can even think of Natalie." + +The last words were spoken slowly, and in a low voice; his eyes were +fixed on the night-world outside. What could his friend say? They talked +late into the night; but all his remonstrances and prayers were of no +avail as against this clear resolve. + +"What is the use of discussion?" was the placid answer. "What would you +have me do?--break my oaths--put aside my sacred promise made to +Natalie, and give up the Society altogether? My good fellow, let us talk +of something less impossible." + +And indeed, though he deprecated discussion on this point, he was +anxious to talk. The fact was that of late he had come to fear sleep, as +the look of his eyes testified. In the daytime, or as long as he could +sit up with a companion, he could force himself to think only of the +immediate and practical demands of the hour; vain regrets over what +might have been--and even occasional uneasy searchings of conscience--he +could by an effort of will ignore. He had accepted his fate; he had +schooled himself to look forward to it without fear; henceforth there +was to be no indecision, no murmur of complaint. But in the +night-time--in dreams--the natural craving for life asserted itself; it +seemed so sad to bid good-bye forever to those whom he had known and +loved; and mostly always it was Natalie herself who stood there, +regarding him with streaming eyes, and wringing her hands, and sobbing +to him farewell. The morning light, or the first calls in the +thoroughfare below, or the shrieking of some railway-whistle on +Hungerford Bridge brought an inexpressible relief by banishing these +agonizing visions. No matter how soon Waters was astir, he found his +master up before him--dressed, and walking up and down the room, or +reading some evening newspaper of the previous day. Sometimes Brand +occupied himself in getting ready his own breakfast, but he had to +explain to Waters that this was not meant as a rebuke--it was merely +that, being awake early, he wished for some occupation. + +Early on the morning after this last despairing protest on the part of +Lord Evelyn, Brand drove up to Paddington Station, on his way to pay a +hurried visit to his Buckinghamshire home. Nearly all his affairs had +been settled in town; there remained some arrangements to be made in the +country. Lord Evelyn was to have joined him in this excursion, but at +the last moment had not put in an appearance; so Brand jumped in just +as the train was starting, and found himself alone in the carriage. + +The bundle of newspapers he had with him did not seem to interest him +much. He was more than ever puzzled to account for the continued silence +of Natalie. Each morning he had been confidently expecting to hear from +her--to have some explanation of her sudden departure--but as the days +went by, and no message of any sort arrived, his wonder became merged in +anxiety. It seemed so strange that she should thus absent herself, when +she had been counting on each day on which she might see him as if it +were some gracious gift from Heaven. + +All that he was certain of in the matter was that Lind knew no more than +himself as to where Natalie had gone. One afternoon, going out from his +rooms into Buckingham Street, he caught sight of Beratinsky loitering +about farther up the little thoroughfare, about the corner of John +Street. Beratinsky's back was turned to him, and so he took advantage of +the moment to open the gate, for which he had a private key, leading +down to the old York Gate; from thence he made his way round by Villiers +Street, whence he could get a better view of the little black-a-vised +Pole's proceedings. + +He speedily convinced himself that Beratinsky, though occasionally he +walked along in the direction of Adam Street, and though sometimes he +would leisurely stroll up to the Strand, was in reality keeping an eye +on Buckingham Street and he had not the least doubt that he himself was +the object of this surveillance. He laughed to himself. Had these wise +people in Lisle Street, then, discovering that Natalie's mother was in +London, arrived at the conclusion that she and her daughter had taken +refuge in so very open a place of shelter? When Beratinsky was least +expecting any such encounter, Brand went up and tapped him on the +shoulder. + +"How do you do, Mr. Beratinsky?" said he, when the other wheeled round. +"This is not the most agreeable place for a stroll. Why do you not go +down to the Embankment Gardens?" + +Beratinsky was angry and confused, but did not quite lose his +self-command. + +"I am waiting for some one," he said, curtly. + +"Or to find out about some one? Well, I will save you some trouble. Lind +wishes to know where his wife and daughter are, I imagine." + +"Is that unnatural?" + +"I suppose not. I heard he had been down to Hans Place, where Madame +Lind was staying." + +"You knew, then?" the other said, quickly. + +"Oh yes, I knew. Now, if you will be frank with me, I may be of some +assistance to you. Lind does not know where his wife and daughter are?" + +"You know he does not." + +"And you--perhaps you fancied that one or other might be sending a +message to me--might call, perhaps--or even that I might have got them +rooms for the time being?" + +The Englishman's penetrating gray eyes were difficult to avoid. + +"You appear to know a good deal, Mr. Brand," Beratinsky said, somewhat +sulkily. "Perhaps you can tell me where they are now?" + +"I can tell you where they are not, and that is in London." + +The other looked surprised, then suspicious. + +"Oh, believe me or not, as you please: I only wish to save you trouble. +I tell you that, to the best of my belief, Miss Lind and her mother are +not in London, nor in this country even." + +"How do you know?" + +"Pardon me; you are going too far. I only tell you what I believe. In +return, as I have saved you some trouble, I shall expect you to let me +know if you hear anything about them. Is that too much to ask?" + +"Then you really don't know where they are?" Beratinsky said, with a +quick glance. + +"I do not; but they have left London--that I know." + +"I am very much obliged to you," said the other, more humbly. "I wish +you good evening, Mr. Brand." + +"Stay a moment. Can you tell me what Yacov Kirski's address is? I have +something to arrange with him before I leave England." + +He took out his note-book, and put down the address that Beratinsky gave +him. Then the latter moved away, taking off his hat politely, but not +shaking hands. + +Brand was amused rather than surprised at this little adventure; but +when day after day passed, and no tidings came from Natalie, he grew +alarmed. Each morning he was certain there would be a letter; each +morning the postman rung the bell below, and Waters would tumble down +the stairs at breakneck speed, but not a word from Natalie or her +mother. + +At the little Buckinghamshire station at which he stopped he found a +dog-cart waiting to convey him to Hill Beeches; and speedily he was +driving away through the country he knew so well, now somewhat desolate +in the faded tints of the waning of the year; and perhaps, as he drew +near to the red and white house on the hill, he began to reproach +himself that he had not made the place more his home. Though the grounds +and shrubberies were neat and trim enough, there was a neglected look +about the house itself. When he entered, his footsteps rung hollow on +the uncarpeted floors. Chintz covered the furniture; muslin smothered +the chandeliers; everything seemed to be locked up and put away. And +this comely woman of sixty or so who came forward to meet him--a +smiling, gracious dame, with silvery-white hair, and peach-like cheeks, +and the most winning little laugh--was not her first word some hint to +the young master that he had been a long time away, and how the +neighbors were many a time asking her when a young mistress was coming +to the Beeches, to keep the place as it used to be kept in the olden +days? + +"Ah well, sir, you know how the people do talk," she said, with an +apologetic smile. "And there was Mrs. Diggles, sir, that is at the +Checkers, sir, and she was speaking only the other day, as it might be, +about the old oak cupboard, that you remember, sir, and she was saying, +'Well, I wouldn't give that cupboard to Mahster Brand, though he offered +me twenty pound for it years ago--twenty pound, not a farthing less. My +vather he gave me that cupboard when I was married, and ten shillings +was what he paid for it: and then there was twenty-five shillings paid +for putting that cupboard to rights. And then the wet day that Mahster +Brand was out shooting, and the Checkers that crowded that I had to ask +him and the other gentleman to go into my own room, and what does he say +but, "Mrs. Diggles, I will give you twenty pound for that cupboard of +yourn, once you knock off the feet and the curly bit on the top." Law, +how the gentle-folk do know about sech things: that was exactly what my +vather he paid the twenty-five shillings for. But how could I give him +my cupboard for twenty pound when I had promised it to my nephew? When +I'm taken, that cupboard my nephew shall have.' Well, sir, the people do +say that Mrs. Diggles and her nephew have had a quarrel; and this was +what she was saying to me--begging your pardon, sir--only the other day, +as it might be; says she, 'Mrs. Alleyne, this is what I will do: when +your young mahster brings home a wife to the Beeches, I will make his +lady a wedding-present of that cupboard of mine--that I will, if so be +as she is not too proud to accept it from one in my 'umble station. It +will be a wedding-present, and the sooner the better,' says she--begging +of your pardon, sir." + +"It is very kind of her, Mrs. Alleyne. Now let me have the keys, if you +please; I have one or two things to see to, and I will not detain you +now." + +She handed him the keys and accepted her dismissal gratefully, for she +was anxious to get off and see about luncheon. Then Brand proceeded to +stroll quietly, and perhaps even sadly, through the empty and resounding +rooms that had for him many memories. + +It was a rambling, old-fashioned, oddly-built house, that had been added +on to by successive generations, according to their needs, without much +reference to the original design. It had come into the possession of the +Brands of Darlington by marriage: George Brand's grandfather having +married a certain Lady Mary Heaton, the last representative of an old +and famous family. And these lonely rooms that he now walked +through--remarking here and there what prominence had been given by his +mother to the many trophies of the chase that he himself had sent home +from various parts of the world--were hung chiefly with portraits, whose +costumes ranged from the stiff frill and peaked waist of Elizabeth to +the low neck and ringleted hair of Victoria. But there was in an inner +room which he entered another collection of portraits that seemed to +have a peculiar fascination for him--a series of miniatures of various +members of the Heaton and Brand families, reaching down even to himself, +for the last that was added had been taken when he was a lad, to send to +his mother, then lying dangerously ill at Cannes. There was her own +portrait, too--that of a delicate-looking woman with large, lustrous, +soft eyes and wan cheeks, who had that peculiar tenderness and sweetness +of expression that frequently accompanies consumption. He sat looking at +these various portraits a long time, wondering now and again what this +or that one may have suffered or rejoiced in; but more than all he +lingered over the last, as if to bid those beautiful tender eyes a final +farewell. + +He was startled by the sound of some vehicle rattling over the gravel +outside; then he heard some one come walking through the echoing rooms. +Instantly, he scarcely knew why he shut down the lid of the case in +front of him. + +"Missed the train by just a second," Lord Evelyn said, coming into the +room; "I am awfully sorry." + +"It doesn't matter," Brand answered; "but I am glad you have come. I +have everything squared up in London, I think; there only remains to +settle a few things down here." + +He spoke in quite a matter-of-fact way--so much so that his friend +forgot to utter any further and unavailing protest. + +"You know I am supposed to be going away abroad for a long time," he +continued. "You must take my place, Evelyn, in a sort of way, and I will +introduce you to-day to the people you must look after. There is a +grandson of my mother's nurse, for example: I promised to do something +for him when he completed his apprenticeship; and two old ladies who +have seen better days--they are not supposed to accept any help, but you +can make wonderful discoveries about the value of their old china, and +carry it off to Bond Street. I will leave you plenty of funds; before my +nephew comes into the place there will be sufficient for him and to +spare. But as for yourself, Evelyn, I want you to take some little +souvenir--how about this?" + +He went and fetched a curious old silver drinking-cup, set round the lip +and down the handle with uncut rubies and sapphires. + +"I don't like the notion of the thing at all," Lord Evelyn said, rather +gloomily; but it was not the cup that he was refusing thus ungraciously. + +"After a time people will give me up for lost; and I have left you ample +power to give any one you can think of some little present, don't you +know, as a memento--whatever strikes your own fancy. I want Natalie to +have that Louis XV. table over there--people rather admire the inlaid +work on it, and the devices inside are endless. However, we will make +out a list of these things afterward. Will you drive me down to the +village now? I want you to see my pensioners." + +"All right--if you like," Lord Evelyn said; though his heart was not in +the work. + +He walked out of this little room and made his way to the front-door, +fancying that Brand would immediately follow. But Brand returned to that +room, and opened the case of miniatures. Then he took from his pocket a +little parcel, and unrolled it: it was a portrait of Natalie--a +photograph on porcelain, most delicately colored, and surrounded with an +antique silver frame. He gazed for a minute or two at the beautiful +face, and somehow the eyes seemed sad to him. Then he placed the little +portrait--which itself looked like a miniature--next the miniature of +his mother, and shut the case and locked it. + +"I beg your pardon, Evelyn, for keeping you waiting," he said, at the +front-door. "Will you particularly remember this--that none of the +portraits here are to be disturbed on any account whatever?" + + + + +CHAPTER XLVII. + +AT PORTICI. + + +Natalie slept far from soundly the first night after her arrival in +Naples; she was glad when the slow, anxious hours, with all their +bewildering uncertainties and forebodings, were over. She rose early, +and dressed quickly; she threw open the tall French windows to let in +the soft silken air from the sea; then she stepped out on the balcony to +marvel once more--she who knew Naples well enough--at the shining beauty +around her. + +It was a morning to give courage to any one; the air was fresh and +sweet; she drank deep of the abundant gladness and brightness of the +world. The great plain of waters before her shimmered and sparkled in +millions of diamonds; with here and there long splashes of sunny green, +and here and there long splashes of purple where the sea-weed showed +through. The waves sprung white on the projecting walls of the Castello +dell' Ovo, and washed in on the shore with a soft continuous murmur; the +brown-sailed fishing-boats went by, showing black or red as they +happened to be in sunshine or shadow. Then far away beyond the shining +sea the island of Capri lay like a blue cloud on the horizon; and far +away beyond the now awakening city near her rose Vesuvius, the twin +peaks dark under some swathes of cloud, the sunlight touching the lower +slopes into a yellowish green, and shining on the pink fringe of villas +along the shore. On so fair and bright a morning hope came as natural to +her as singing to a bird. The fears of the night were over; she could +not be afraid of what such a day should bring forth. + +And yet--and yet--from time to time--and just for a second or so--her +heart seemed to stand still. And she was so silent and preoccupied at +breakfast, that her mother remarked it; and Natalie had to excuse +herself by saying that she was a little tired with the travelling. After +breakfast she led her mother into the reading-room, and said, in rather +an excited way, + +"Now, mother, here is a treat for you; you will get all the English +papers here, and all the news." + +"You forget, Natalie," said her mother, smiling, "that English papers +are not of much use to me." + +"Ah, well, the foreign papers," she said, quickly. "You see, mother, I +want to go along to a chemist's to get some white rose." + +"You should not throw it about the railway carriages so much, +Natalushka," the unsuspecting mother said, reprovingly. "You are +extravagant." + +She did not heed. + +"Perhaps they will have it in Naples. Wait until I come back, mother; I +shall not be long." + +But it was not white-rose scent that was in her mind as she went rapidly +away and got ready to go out; and it was not in search of any chemist's +shop that she made her way to the Via Roma. Why, she had asked herself +that morning, as she stood on the balcony, and drank in the sunlight and +the sweet air, should she take the poor tired mother with her on this +adventure? If there was danger, she would brave it by herself. She +walked quickly--perhaps anxious to make the first plunge. + +She had no difficulty in finding the Vico Carlo, though it was one of +the narrowest and steepest of the small, narrow, and steep lanes leading +off the main thoroughfare into the masses of tall and closely-built +houses on the side of the hill. But when she looked up and recognized +the little plate bearing the name at the corner, she turned a little +pale; something, she knew not what, was now so near. + +And as she turned into this narrow and squalid little alley, it seemed +as if her eyes, through some excitement or other, observed the objects +around her with a strange intensity. She could remember each and every +one of them afterward--the fruit-sellers bawling, and the sellers of +acidulated drinks out-roaring them; the shoemakers already at work at +their open stalls; mules laden with vegetables; a negro monk, with his +black woolly head above the brown hood; a venerable letter-writer at a +small table, spectacles on nose and pen in hand, with two women +whispering to him what he was to write for them. She made her way up the +steep lane, through the busy, motley, malodorous crowd, until she +reached the corner pointed out to her by Calabressa. + +But he had not told her which way to turn, and for a second or two she +stood in the middle of the crossing, uncertain and bewildered. A +brawny-looking fellow, apparently a butcher, addressed her; she +murmured some thanks, and hastily turned away, taking to the right. She +had not gone but a few yards when she saw the entrance to a court which, +at least, was certainly as dark as that described by Calabressa. She was +half afraid that the man who had spoken to her was following her; and +so, without further hesitation, she plunged into this gloomy court-yard, +which was apparently quite deserted. + +She was alone, and she looked around. A second convinced her that she +had hit upon the place, as it were by accident. Over her head swung an +oil-lamp, that threw but the scantiest orange light into the vague +shadows of the place; and in front of her were the open windows of what +was apparently a wine-shop. She did not stay to reflect. Perhaps with +some little tightening of the mouth--unknown to herself--she walked +forward and entered the vaults. + +Here, again, no one was visible; there were rows of tuns, certainly, and +a musty odor in the place, but no sign of any trade or business being +carried on. Suddenly out of the darkness appeared a figure--so suddenly +indeed as to startle her. Had this man been seen in ordinary daylight, +he would no doubt have looked nothing worse than a familiar type of the +fat black-a-vised Italian--not a very comely person, it is true, but not +in any way horrible--but now these dusky shadows lent something +ghoulish-looking to his bushy head and greasy face and sparkling black +eyes. + +"What is the pleasure of the young lady?" he said, curtly. + +Natalie had been startled. + +"I wished to inquire--I wished to mention," she stammered, "one +Bartolotti." + +But at the same time she was conscious of a strange sinking of the +heart. Was this the sort of creature who was expected to save the life +of her lover?--this the sort of man to pit against Ferdinand Lind? Poor +old Calabressa--she thought he meant well, but he boasted, he was +foolish. + +This heavy-faced and heavy-bodied man in the dusk did not reply at once. +He turned aside, saying, + +"Excuse me, signorina, it is dark here; they have neglected to light the +lamps as yet." + +Then, with much composure, he got a lamp, struck a match, and lit it. +The light was not great, but he placed it deliberately so that it shone +on Natalie, and then he calmly investigated her appearance. + +"Yes, signorina, you mentioned one Bartolotti," he remarked, in a more +respectful tone. + +Natalie hesitated. According to Calabressa's account, the mere mention +of the name was to act as a talisman which would work wonders for her. +This obese person merely stood there, awaiting what she should say. + +"Perhaps," she said, in great embarrassment, "you know one Calabressa?" + +"Ah, Calabressa!" he said, and the dull face lighted up with a little +more intelligence. "Yes, of course, one knows Calabressa." + +"He is a friend of mine," she said. "Perhaps, if I could see him, he +would explain to you--" + +"But Calabressa is not here; he is not even in this country, perhaps." + +Then silence. A sort of terror seized her. Was this the end of all her +hopes? Was she to go away thus? Then came a sudden cry, wrung from her +despair. + +"Oh, sir, you must tell me if there is no one who can help me! I have +come to save one who is in trouble, in danger. Calabressa said to me, +'Go to Naples; go to such and such a place; the mere word Bartolotti +will give you powerful friends; count on them; they will not fail one +who belongs to the Berezolyis.' And now--" + +"Your pardon, signorina: have the complaisance to repeat the name." + +"Berezolyi," she answered, quickly; "he said it would be known." + +"I for my part do not know it; but that is of no consequence," said the +man. "I begin to perceive what it is that you demand. It is serious. I +hope my friend Calabressa is justified. I have but to do my duty." + +Then he glanced at the young lady--or, rather, at her costume. + +"The assistance you demand for some one, signorina: is it a sum of +money--is it a reasonable, ordinary sum of money that would be in the +question, perhaps?" + +"Oh no, signore; not at all!" + +"Very well. Then have the kindness to write your name and your address +for me: I will convey your appeal." + +He brought her writing materials; after a moment's consideration she +wrote--"_Natalie Lind, the daughter of Natalie Berezolyi. Hotel ----._" +She handed him the paper. + +"A thousand thanks, signorina. To-day, perhaps to-morrow, you will hear +from the friends of Calabressa. You will be ready to go where they ask +you to go?" + +"Oh yes, yes, sir!" she exclaimed. "How can I thank you?" + +"It is unnecessary," he said, taking the lamp to show her the way more +clearly. "I have the honor to wish you good-morning, signorina." And +again he bowed respectfully. "Your most humble servant, signorina." + +She returned to the hotel, and found that her mother had gone up-stairs +to her own room. + +"Natalushka, you have been away trying to find some one?" + +"Yes, mother," the girl said, rather sadly. + +"Why did you go alone?" + +"I thought I would not tire you, dear mother." + +Then she described all the circumstances of her morning's visit. + +"But why should you be so sad, Natalushka?" the mother said, taking her +daughter's hand; "don't you know that fine palaces may have rusty keys? +Oh, I can reassure you on that point. You will not have to deal with +persons like your friend the wine-merchant--not at all. I know at least +as much as that, child. But you see, they have to guard themselves." + +Natalie would not leave the hotel for a moment. She pretended to read; +but every person who came into the reading-room caused her to look up +with a start of apprehensive inquiry. At last there came a note for her. +She broke open the envelope hurriedly, and found a plain white card, +with these words written on it: + +"_Be at the Villa Odelschalchi, Portici, at four this afternoon._" + +Joy leaped to her face again. + +"Mother, look!" she cried, eagerly. "After all, we may hope." + +"This time you shall not go alone, Natalushka." + +"Why not, mother? I am not afraid." + +"I may be of use to you, child. There may be friends of mine there--who +knows? I am going with you." + +In course of time they hired a carriage, and drove away through the +crowded and gayly-colored city in the glow of the afternoon. But they +had sufficient prudence, before reaching Portici, to descend from the +carriage and proceed on foot. They walked quietly along, apparently not +much interested in what was around them. Presently Natalie pressed her +mother's arm, they were opposite the Villa Odelschalchi--there was the +name on the flat pillars by the gate. + +This great plain building, which might have been called a palazzo rather +than a villa, seemed, on the side fronting the street, to be entirely +closed--all the casements of the windows being shut. But when they +crossed to the gate, and pulled the big iron handle that set a bell +ringing, a porter appeared--a big, indolent-looking man, who regarded +them calmly, to see which would speak first. + +Natalie simply produced the card that had been sent to her. + +"This is the Villa Odelschalchi, I perceive," she said. + +"Oh, it is you, then, signorina?" the porter said, with great respect. +"Yes, there was one lady to come here at four o'clock--" + +"But the signora is my mother," said Natalie, perhaps with a trifle of +impatience. + +The man hesitated for a moment, but by this time Natalie, accompanied by +her mother, had passed through the cool gray archway into the spacious +tessellated court, from which rose on each hand a wide marble staircase. + +"Will the signorina and the signora her mother condescend to follow me?" +the porter said, leading the way up one of the staircases, the big iron +keys still in his hand. + +They were shown into an antechamber, but scantily furnished, and the +porter disappeared. In a minute or two there came into the room a small, +sallow-complexioned man, who was no other than the Secretary Granaglia. +He bowed, and, as he did so, glanced from the one to the other of the +visitors with scrutiny. + +"It is no doubt correct, signorina," said he, addressing himself to +Natalie, "that you have brought the signora your mother with you. We had +thought you were alone, from the message we received. No matter; +only"--and here he turned to Natalie's mother--"only, signora, you will +renew your acquaintance with one who wishes to be known by the name of +Von Zoesch. I have no doubt the signora understands." + +"Oh, perfectly, perfectly!" said the elder woman: she had been familiar +with these prudent changes of name all her life. + +The Secretary Granaglia bowed and retired. + +"It is some one who knows you, mother?" Natalie said, breathlessly. + +"Oh, I hope so!" the other answered. She was a little pale, and her +fingers were tightly clasped. + +Then a heavier step was heard in the empty corridors outside. The door +was opened; there appeared a tall and soldierly-looking man, about six +feet three in height and perfectly erect, with closely-cropped white +hair, a long white mustache, a reddish face, and clear, piercing, +light-blue eyes. The moment the elder woman saw him she uttered a slight +cry--of joy, it seemed, and surprise--and sprung to her feet. + +"Stefan!" + +"Natalie!" he exclaimed, in turn with an almost boyish laugh of +pleasure, and he came forward to her with both hands outstretched, and +took hers. "Why, what good wind has brought you to this country? But I +beg a thousand pardons--" + +He turned and glanced at Natalie. + +"My child," she said, "let me present you to my old friend, General--" + +"Von Zoesch," he interrupted, and he took Natalie's hand at the same +time. "What, you are the young lady, then, who bearded the lion in his +den this morning?--and you were not afraid? No, I can see you are a +Berezolyi; if you were a man you would be forever getting yourself and +your friends into scrapes, and risking your neck to get them out again. +A Berezolyi, truly! 'The more beautiful daughter of a beautiful mother!' +But the little scamp knew his insulting iambics were only fit to be +thrown into the fire when he made that unjust comparison. Ah, you young +people have fresh complexions and bright eyes on your side, but we old +people prefer our old friends." + +"I hope so, sir," said Natalie, with her eyes bent down. + +"And had your father no other messenger that he must employ you?" said +this erect, white-haired giant, who regarded her in a kindly way; "or is +it that feather-brained fellow Calabressa who has got you to intercede +for him? Rest assured. Calabressa will soon be in imminent peril of +being laid by the heels, and he is therefore supremely happy." + +Before the girl could speak he had turned to the mother. + +"Come, my old friend, shall we go out into the garden? I am sorry the +reception-rooms in the villa are all dismantled; in truth, we are only +temporary lodgers. And I have a great many questions to ask you about +old friends, particularly your father." + +"Stefan, can you not understand why I have permitted myself to leave +Hungary?" + +He glanced at her deep mourning. + +"Ah, is that so? Well, no one ever lived a braver life. And how he kept +up the old Hungarian traditions!--the house a hotel from month's end to +month's end: no questions asked but 'Are you a stranger? then my house +is yours.'" + +He led the way down the stairs, chatting to this old friend of his; and +though Natalie was burning with impatience, she forced herself to be +silent. Was it not all in her favor that this member of the mysterious +Council should recur to these former days, and remind himself of his +intimacy with her family? She followed them in silence: he seemed to +have forgotten her existence. + +They passed through the court-yard, and down some broad steps. The true +front of the building was on this seaward side--a huge mass of pink, +with green casements. From the broad stone steps a series of terraces, +prettily laid out, descended to a lawn; but, instead of passing down +that way, the tall, soldierly-looking man led his companion by a +side-flight of steps, which enabled them to enter an _allee_ cut through +a mass of olives and orange and lemon trees. There were fig-trees along +the wall by the side of this path; a fountain plashed coolly out there +on the lawn, and beyond the opening showed the deep blue of the sea, +with the clear waves breaking whitely on the shores. + +They sat down on a garden-seat; and Natalie, sitting next her mother, +waited patiently and breathlessly, scarcely hearing all this talk about +old companions and friends. + +At last the general said, + +"Now about the business that brought you here: is it serious?" + +"Oh yes, very," the mother said, with some color of excitement appearing +in her worn face; "it is a friend of ours in England: he has been +charged by the Society with some duty that will cost him his life; we +have come to intercede for him--to ask you to save him. For the sake of +old times, Stefan--" + +"Wait a moment," said the other, looking grave. "Do you mean the +Englishman?" + +"Yes, yes; the same." + +"And who has told you what it is purposed to have done?" he asked, with +quite a change in his manner. + +"No one," she answered, eagerly; "we guess that it is something of great +danger." + +"And if that is so, are you unfamiliar with persons having to incur +danger? Why not an Englishman as well as another? This is an +extraordinary freak of yours, Natalie; I cannot understand it. And to +have come so far when any one in England--any one of us, I mean--could +have told you it was useless." + +"But why useless, if you are inclined to interfere?" she said, boldly, +"and I think my father's family have some title to consideration." + +"My old friend," said he, in a kindly way, "what is there in the world I +would not do for you if it were within my power? But this is not. What +you ask is, to put the matter shortly, impossible--impossible!" + +In the brief silence that followed the mother heard a slight sigh: she +turned instantly, and saw her daughter, as white as death, about to +fall. She caught her in her arms with a slight cry of alarm. + +"Here, Stefan, take my handkerchief--dip it in the water--quick!" + +The huge, bullet-headed man strode across the lawn to the fountain. As +he returned, and saw before him the white-lipped, unconscious girl, who +was supported in her mother's arms, he said to himself, "Now I +understand." + + + + +CHAPTER XLVIII. + +AN APPEAL. + + +This sudden and involuntary confession of alarm and despair no doubt +told her story more clearly than anything else could have done. General +von Zoesch as he chose to call himself, was excessively concerned; he +held her hand till he saw the life returning to the pale, beautiful +face: he was profuse and earnest in his apologies. + +"My dear young lady I beg a thousand pardons!--I had no idea of alarming +you; I had no idea you were so deeply interested; come, take my arm, and +we will walk down into the open, where the sea-air is cool. I beg a +thousand pardons." + +She had pulled herself together with a desperate effort of will. + +"You spoke abruptly, signore; you used the word _impossible_! I had +imagined it was unknown to you." + +Her lips were rather pale; but there was a flush of color returning to +her face, and her voice had something of the old proud and pathetic ring +in it. + +"Yes," she continued, standing-before him, with her eyes downcast, "I +was told that when great trouble came upon me or mine I was to come +here--to Naples--and I should find myself under the protection of the +greatest power in Europe. My name--my mother's name--was to be enough. +And this is the result, that a brave man, who is our friend and dear to +us, is threatened with a dishonorable death, and the very power that +imposed it on him--the power that was said to be invincible, and wise, +and generous--is unable or unwilling to stir hand or foot!" + +"A dishonorable death, signorina?" + +"Oh, signore," she said, with a proud indignation, "do not speak to me +as if I were a child. Cannot one see what is behind all this secrecy? +Cannot one see that you know well what has been done in England by your +friends and colleagues? You put this man, who is too proud, too noble, +to withdraw from his word, on a service that involves the certain +sacrifice of his life! and there is no honor attached to this +sacrifice--so he himself has admitted. What does that mean?--what can it +mean--but assassination?" + +He drew back his head a little bit, as if startled, and stared at her. + +"My dear young lady--" + +But her courage had not returned to her for nothing. She raised the +beautiful, dark, pathetic eyes, and regarded him with an indignant +fearlessness. + +"That is what any one might guess," she said. "But there is more. +Signore, you and your friends meditate the assassination of the King of +Italy! and you call on an Englishman--an Englishman who has no love of +secret and blood-stained ways--" + +"Stefan!" the mother cried, quickly, and she placed her hand on the +general's arm; "do not be angry. Do not heed her--she is a child--she is +quick to speak. Believe me, there are other reasons for our coming to +you." + +"Yes, yes, my friend Natalie; all in good time. But I am most anxious to +put myself right with the signorina your daughter first of all. Now, my +dear young lady," he said, taking her hand, and putting it on his arm, +and gently compelling her to walk with him toward the opener space where +the sea-air was cool, "I again apologize to you for having spoken +unwittingly--" + +"Oh, signore, do not trouble about that! It is no matter of courtesy or +politeness that is in the question: it is the life of one of one's +dearest friends. There are other times for politeness." + +"Stefan," the mother interposed, anxiously, "do not heed her--she is +agitated." + +"My dear Natalie," said the general, smiling, "I admire a brave woman +as I admire a brave man. Do not I recognize another of you Berezolyis? +The moment you think one of your friends is being wronged, fire and +water won't prevent you from speaking out. No, no, my dear young lady," +he said, turning to the daughter, "you cannot offend me by being loyal +and outspoken." + +He patted her hand, just as Calabressa had done. + +"But I must ask you to listen for a moment, to remove one or two +misconceptions. It is true I know something of the service which your +English friend has undertaken to perform. Believe me, it has nothing to +do with the assassination of the King of Italy--nothing in the world." + +She lifted her dark eyes for a second, and regarded him steadily. + +"I perceive," said he, "that you pay me the compliment of asking me if I +lie. I do not. Reassure yourself: there are no people in this country +more loyal to the present dynasty than my friends and myself. We have no +time for wild Republican projects." + +She looked somewhat bewildered. This speculation as to the possible +nature of the service demanded of George Brand had been the outcome of +many a night's anxious self-communing; and she had indulged in the wild +hope that this man, when abruptly challenged, might have been startled +into some avowal. For then, would not her course have been clear enough? +But now she was thrown back on her former perplexity, with only the one +certainty present to her mind--the certainty of the danger that +confronted her lover. + +"My dear young lady," he said, "it is useless for you to ask what that +service is, for I shall refuse to answer you. But I assure you that you +have my deepest sympathy, and I have seen a good deal of suffering from +similar causes. I do not seek to break into your confidence, but I think +I understand your position; you will believe me that it is with no light +heart that I must repeat the word _impossible_. Need I reason with you? +Need I point out to you that there is scarcely any one in the world whom +we might select for a dangerous duty who would not have some one who +would suffer on his account? Who is without some tie of affection that +must be cut asunder--no matter with what pain--when the necessity for +the sacrifice arises? You are one of the unhappy ones; you must be +brave; you must try to forget your sufferings, as thousands of wives and +sweethearts and daughters have had to forget, in thinking that their +relatives and friends died in a good cause." + +Her heart was proud and indignant no longer; it had grown numbed. The +air from the sea felt cold. + +"I am helpless, signore," she murmured; "I do not know what the cause +is. I do not know what justification you have for taking this man's +life." + +He did not answer that. He said, + +"Perhaps, indeed, it is not those who are called on to sacrifice their +life for the general good who suffer most. They can console themselves +with thinking of the result. It is their friends--those dearest to +them--who suffer, and who many a time would no doubt be glad to become +their substitutes. It is true that we--that is, that many +associations--recognize the principle of the vicarious performance of +duties and punishments; but not any one yet has permitted a woman to +become substitute for a man." + +"What made you think of that, signore?" she asked, regarding him. + +"I have known some cases," he said, evasively, "where such an offer, I +think, would have been made." + +"It could not be accepted?" + +"Oh no." + +"Not even by the power that is the greatest in Europe?" she said, +bitterly--"that is invincible and all-generous? Oh, signore, you are too +modest in your pretensions! And the Berezolyis--they have done nothing, +then, in former days to entitle them to consideration; they are but as +anybody in the crowd who might come forward and intercede for a friend; +they have no old associates, then, and companions in this Society, that +they cannot have this one thing granted them--that they cannot get this +one man's life spared to him! Signore, your representatives mistake your +powers; more than that, they mistake the strength of your memory, and +your friendship!" + +The red face of the bullet-headed general grew redder still, but not +with anger. + +"Signorina," he said, evidently greatly embarrassed, "you humiliate me. +You--you do not know what you ask--" + +He had led her back to the garden-seat; they had both sat down; he did +not notice how her bosom was struggling with emotion. + +"You ask me to interfere--to commit an act of injustice--" + +"Oh, signore, signore, this is what I ask!" she cried, quite overcome; +and she fell at his feet, and put her clasped hands on his knees, and +broke into a wild fit of crying; "this is what I ask of you, +signore--this is what I beg from you on my knees--I ask you to give me +the life of--of my betrothed!" + +She buried her face in her hands; her frame was shaken with her sobs. + +"Little daughter," said he, greatly agitated, "rise; come, remain here +for a few moments; I wish to speak to your mother--alone. Natalie!" + +The elder woman accompanied him a short distance across the lawn; they +stood by the fountain. + +"By Heaven, I would do anything for the child!" he said, rapidly; "but +you see, dear friend, how it is impossible. Look at the injustice of it. +If we transferred this duty to another person, what possible excuse +could we make to him whom we might choose?" + +He was looking back at the girl. + +"It will kill her, Stefan," the mother said. + +"Others have suffered also." + +The elder woman seemed to collect herself a little. + +"But I told you we had not said everything to you. The poor child is in +despair; she has not thought of all the reasons that induced us to come +to you. Stefan, you remember my cousin Konrad?" + +"Oh yes, I remember Konrad well enough," said the general, absently, for +he was still regarding the younger Natalie, who sat on the bench, her +hands clasped, her head bent down. "Poor fellow, he came to a sad end at +last; but he always carried his life in his hands, and with a gay heart +too." + +"But you remember, do you not, something before that?" the mother said, +with some color coming into her face. "You remember how my husband had +him chosen--and I myself appealed--and you, Stefan, you were among the +first to say that the Society must inquire--" + +"Ah, but that was different, Natalie. You know why it was that that +commission had to be reversed." + +"Do I know? Yes. What else have I had to think about these sixteen or +seventeen years since my child was separated from me?" she said, sadly. +"And perhaps I have grown suspicious; perhaps I have grown mad to think +that what has happened once might happen again." + +"What?" he said, turning his clear blue eyes suddenly on her. + +She did not flinch. + +"Consider the circumstances, Stefan, and say whether one has no reason +to suspect. The Englishman, this Mr. Brand, loves Natalie; she loves him +in return; my husband refuses his consent to the marriage; and yet they +meet in opposition to his wishes. Then there is another thing that I +cannot so well explain, but it is something about a request on my +husband's part that Mr. Brand, who is a man of wealth, should accept a +certain offer, and give over his property to the funds of the Society." + +"I understand perfectly," her companion said, calmly. "Well?" + +"Well, Mr. Brand, thinking of Natalie's future, refuses. But consider +this, Stefan, that it had been hinted to him before that in case of his +refusal, he might be sent to America to remain there for life." + +"I perceive, my old friend, that you are reading in your own +interpretations into an ordinary matter of business. However--" + +"But his refusal was immediately followed by that arrangement. He was +ordered to go to America. My husband, no doubt considered that that +would effectually separate him and Natalie--" + +"Again you are putting in your own interpretation." + +"One moment, Stefan. My child is brave; she thought an injustice was +being done; she thought it was for her sake that her lover was being +sent away, and then she spoke frankly; she said she would go with him." + +"Yes?" He was now listening with more interest. + +"You perceive then, my dear friend, my husband was thwarted in every +way. Then it was, and quite suddenly, that he reversed this arrangement +about America, and there fell on Mr. Brand this terrible thing. Knowing +what I know, do you not think I had fair cause for suspicion? And when +Natalie said, 'Oh, there are those abroad who will remove this great +trouble from us,' then I said to myself, 'At all events, the Society +does not countenance injustice; it will see that right has been done.'" + +The face of the man had grown grave, and for some time he did not speak. + +"I see what you suggest, Natalie," he said at length. "It is a serious +matter. I should have said your suspicions were idle--that the thing was +impossible--but for the fact that it has occurred before. Strange, now, +if old ----, whose wisdom and foresight the world is beginning to +recognize now, should be proved to be wise on this point too, as on so +many others. He used always to say to us: 'When once you find a man +unfaithful, never trust him after. When once a man has allowed himself +to put his personal advantage before his duty to such a society as +yours, it shows that somewhere or other there is in him the leaven of a +self-seeker, which is fatal to all societies. Impose the heaviest +penalties on such an offence; cast him out when you have the +opportunity.' It would be strange, indeed; it would be like fate; it +would appear as though the thing were in the blood, and must come out, +no matter what warning the man may have had before. You know, Natalie, +what your husband had to endure for his former lapse?" + +She nodded her head. + +For some time he was again silent, and there was a deeper air of +reflection on his face than almost seemed natural to it, for he looked +more of a soldier than a thinker. + +"If there were any formality," he said, almost to himself, "in the +proceedings, one might have just cause to intervene. But your husband, +my Natalie," he continued, addressing her directly, "is well trusted by +us. He has done us long and faithful service. We should be slow to put +any slight upon him, especially that of suspicion." + +"That, Stefan," said Natalie's mother, with courage, "is a small matter, +surely, compared with the possibility of your letting this man go to his +death unjustly. You would countenance, then, an act of private revenge? +That is the use you would let the powers of your Society be put to? That +is not what Janecki, what Rausch, what Falevitch looked forward to." + +The taunt was quite lost on him; he was calmly regarding Natalie. She +had not stirred. After that one outburst of despairing appeal there was +no more for her to say or to do. She could wait, mutely, and hear what +the fate of her lover was to be. + +"Unfortunately," said the general, turning and looking up at the vast +pink frontage of the villa, "There are no papers here that one can +appeal to. I only secured the temporary use of the villa, as being a +more fitting place than some to receive the signorina your daughter. But +it is possible the Secretary may remember something; he has a good +memory. Will you excuse me, Natalie, for a few moments?" + +He strode away toward the house. The mother went over to her daughter, +and put a hand on her shoulder. + +"Courage, Natalushka! You must not despair yet. Ah, my old friend Stefan +has a kind heart; there were tears in his eyes when he turned away from +your appeal to him. He does not forget old associates." + +Von Zoesch almost immediately returned, still looking preoccupied. He +drew Natalie's mother aside a few steps, and said, + +"This much I may tell you, Natalie: in the proceedings four were +concerned--your husband, Mr. Brand, Beratinsky, Reitzei. What do you +know of these last two?" + +"I? Alas, Stefan, I know nothing of them!" + +"And we here little. They are your husband's appointment. I may also +tell you, Natalie, that the Secretary is also of my opinion, that it is +very unlikely your husband would be so audacious as to repeat his +offence of former years, by conspiring to fix this duty on this man to +serve his own interests. It would be too audacious, unless his temper +had outrun his reason altogether." + +"But you must remember, Stefan," she said, eagerly, "that there was no +one in England who knew that former story. He could not imagine that I +was to be, unhappily, set free to go to my daughter--that I should be at +her side when this trouble fell on her--" + +"Nevertheless," said he, gently interrupting her, "you have appealed to +us: we will inquire. It will be a delicate affair. If there has been any +complicity, any unfairness, to summon these men hither would be to make +firmer confederates of them than ever. If one could get at them +separately, individually--" + +He kept pressing his white mustache into his teeth with his forefinger. + +"If Calabressa were not such a talker," he said, absently. "But he has +ingenuity, the feather-brained devil." + +"Stefan, I could trust everything to Calabressa," she said. + +"In the mean time," he said, "I will not detain you. If you remain at +the same hotel we shall be able to communicate with you. I presume your +carriage is outside?" + +"It is waiting for us a little way off." + +He accompanied them into the tessellated court-yard, but not to the +gate. He bade good-bye to his elder friend; then he took the younger +lady's hand and held it, and regarded her. + +"Figliuola mia," he said, with a kindly glance, "I pity you if you have +to suffer. We will hope for better things: if it is impossible, you have +a brave heart." + +When they had left he went up the marble staircase and along the empty +corridor until he reached a certain room. + +"Granaglia, can you tell me where our friend Calabressa may happen to be +at this precise moment?" + +"At Brindisi, I believe, Excellenza." + +"At Brindisi still. The devil of a fellow is not so impatient as I had +expected. Ah, well. Have the goodness to send for him, friend Granaglia, +and bid him come with speed." + +"Most willingly, Excellenza." + + + + +CHAPTER XLIX. + +AN EMISSARY. + + +One warm, still afternoon Calabressa was walking quickly along the +crowded quays of Naples, when he was beset by a more than usually +importunate beggar--a youth of about twelve, almost naked. + +"Something for bread, signore--for the love of God--my father taken to +heaven, my mother starving--bread, signore--" + +"To the devil with you!" said Calabressa. + +"May you burst!" replied the polite youth, and he tried to kick +Calabressa's legs and make off at the same time. + +This feat he failed in, so that, as he was departing, Calabressa hit him +a cuff on the side of the head which sent him rolling. Then there was a +howl, and presently there was a universal tumult of women, calling out, +"Ah, the German! ah, the foreigner!" and so forth, and drawing +threateningly near. Calabressa sought in his pockets for a handful of +small copper coins, turned, threw them high in the air, and did not stay +to watch the effect of the shower on the heads of the women, but walked +quietly away. + +However, in thus suddenly turning, he had caught sight--even with his +near-sighted eyes--of an unwholesome-looking young man, pale, +clean-shaven, with bushy black hair, whom he recognized. He appeared to +pay no attention, but walked quickly on. Taking one or two unnecessary +turnings, he became convinced that the young man, as he had suspected, +was following him: then, without more ado, and even without looking +behind him, he set out for his destination, which was Posilipo. + +In due course of time he began to ascend the wooded hill with its villas +and walls and cactus-hedges. At a certain turning, where he could not be +observed by any one behind him, he turned sharp off to the left, and +stood behind a wooden gate; a couple of minutes afterward the young man +came along, more rapidly now, for he no doubt fancied that Calabressa +had disappeared ahead. + +Calabressa stepped out from his hiding-place, went after him, and tapped +him on the shoulder. He turned, stared, and endeavored to appear angry +and astonished. + +"Oh yes, to be sure," said Calabressa, with calm sarcasm, "at your +disposition, signore. So we were not satisfied with selling photographs +and pebbles to the English on board the steamer; we want to get a little +Judas money; we sell ourselves to the weasels, the worms, the vermin--" + +"Oh, I assure you, signore--" the shaven-faced youth exclaimed, much +more humbly. + +"Oh, I assure you too, signore," Calabressa continued, facetiously. "And +you, you poor innocent, you have not been with the weasels six weeks +when you think you will try your nose in tracking me. Body of Bacchus, +it is too insolent!" + +"I assure you, signore--" + +"Now, behold this, my friend: we must give children like you a warning. +If you had been a little older, and not quite so foolish, I should have +had you put on the Black List of my friends the Camorristi--you +understand? But you--we will cure you otherwise. You know the +Englishman's yacht that has come into the Great Harbor--" + +"Signore, I beg of you--" + +"Beg of the devil!" said Calabressa, calmly. "Between the Englishman's +yacht and the Little Mole you will find a schooner moored--her name. _La +Svezia_; do not forget--_La Svezia_. To-morrow you will go on board of +her, ask for the captain, go down below, and beg him to be so kind as to +give you twelve stripes--" + +"Signore--" + +"Another word, _mouchard_, and I make it twenty. He will give you a +receipt, which you will sign, and bring to me; otherwise, down goes your +name on the list. Which do you prefer? Oh, we will teach some of you +young weasels a lesson! I have the honor to wish you a good morning." + +Calabressa touched his hat politely, and walked on, leaving the young +man petrified with rage and fear. + +By-and-by he began to walk more leisurely and with more circumspection, +keeping a sharp lookout, as well as his near-sighted eyes allowed, on +any passer-by or vehicle he happened to meet. At length, and with the +same precautions he had used on a former occasion, he entered the +grounds of the villa he had sought out in the company of Gathorne +Edwards, and made his way up to the fountain on the little plateau. But +now his message had been previously prepared; he dropped it into the +receptacle concealed beneath the lip of the fountain, and then descended +the steep little terraces until he got round to the entrance of the +grotto. + +Instead of passing in by this cleft in the rockwork, however, he found +awaiting him there the person who had summoned him--the so-called +General Von Zoesch. Calabressa was somewhat startled, but he said, "Your +humble servant, Excellenza," and removed his cap. + +"Keep your hat on your head, friend Calabressa," said the other, +good-naturedly; "you are as old as I am." + +He seated himself on a projecting ledge of the rockwork, and motioned to +Calabressa to do likewise on the other side of the entrance. They were +completely screened from observation by a mass of olive and fig trees, +to say nothing of the far-stretching orange shrubbery beyond. + +"The Council have paid you a high compliment, my Calabressa," the +general said, plunging at once into the matter. "They have resolved to +intrust you with a very difficult mission." + +"It is a great honor." + +"You won't have to risk your neck, which will no doubt disappoint you, +but you will have to show us whether there is the stuff of a diplomatist +in you." + +"Oh, as for that, Excellenza," Calabressa said confidently, "one can be +a _bavard_ at times, for amusement, for nonsense; and one can at times +be silent when there is necessity." + +"You know of the affair of Zaccatelli. The agent has been found, as we +desired in England. I understand you know him; his name is Brand." + +Calabressa uttered an exclamation. + +"Excellenza, do you know what you have said? You pierce my heart. Why he +of all those in England? He is the betrothed of Natalie's daughter--the +Natalie Berezolyi, Excellenza, who married Ferdinand Lind--" + +"I know it," said the other, calmly. "I have seen the young lady. She is +a beautiful child." + +"She is more than that--she is a beautiful-souled child!" said +Calabressa, in great agitation, "and she has a tender heart. I tell you +it will kill her, Excellenza! Oh, it is infamous! it is not to be +thought of!" He jumped to his feet and spoke in a rapid, excited way. "I +say it is not to be thought of. I appeal--I, Calabressa--to the +honorable the members of the Council: I say that I am ready to be his +substitute--they cannot deny me--I appeal to the laws of the +Society--"' + +"Calm yourself--calm yourself," said the general; but Calabressa would +not be calm. + +"I will not have my beautiful child have this grief put upon her!--you, +Excellenza, will help my appeal to the Council--they cannot refuse +me--what use am I to anybody or myself? I say that the daughter of my +old friend Natalie shall not have her lover taken from her; it is I, +Calabressa, who claim to be his substitute!" + +"Friend Calabressa, I desire you to sit down and listen. The story is +brief that I have to tell you. This man Brand is chosen by the usual +ballot. The young lady does not know for what duty, of course, but +believes it will cost him his life. She is in trouble; she recollects +your giving her some instructions; what does she do but start off at +once for Naples, to put her head right into the den of the black bear +Tommaso!" + +"Ah, the brave little one! She did not forget Calabressa and the little +map, then?" + +"I have seen her and her mother." + +"Her mother, also? Here, in Naples, now?" + +"Yes." + +"Great Heaven! What a fool I was to come through Naples and not to +know--but I was thinking of that little viper." + +"You will now be good enough to listen, my Calabressa." + +"I beg your Excellency's pardon a thousand times." + +"It appears that both mother and daughter are beset with the suspicion +that this duty has been put upon their English friend by unfair means. +At first I said to myself these suspicions were foolish; they now appear +to me more reasonable. You, at all events, are acquainted with the old +story against Ferdinand Lind; you know how he forfeited his life to the +Society; how it was given back to him. You would think it impossible he +would risk such another adventure. Well, perhaps I wrong him; but there +is a possibility; there are powerful reasons, I can gather, why he +should wish to get rid of this Englishman." + +Calabressa said nothing now, but he was greatly excited. + +"We had been urging him about money, Calabressa mio--that I will explain +to you. It has been coming in slowest of all from England, the richest +of the countries, and just when we had so much need. Then, again, there +is a vacancy in the Council, and Lind has a wish that way. What happens? +He tries to induce the Englishman to take an officership and give us +his fortune; the Englishman refuses; he says then, 'Part from my +daughter, and go to America.' The daughter says, 'If he goes, I follow.' +You perceive, my friend, that if this story is true, and it is +consecutive and minute as I received it, there was a reason for our +colleague Lind to be angry, and to be desirous of making it certain that +this Englishman who had opposed him should not have his daughter." + +"I perceive it well, Excellenza. Meanwhile?" + +"Meanwhile, that is all. Only, when an old friend--when one who has such +claims on our Society as a Berezolyi naturally has--comes and tells you +such a story, you listen with attention and respect. You may believe, or +you may not believe; one prefers not to believe when the matter touches +upon the faith of a colleague who has been trustworthy for many years. +But at the same time, if the Council, being appealed to, and being +anxious above all things that no wrong should be done, were to find an +agent--prudent, silent, cautious--who might be armed with plenary powers +of pardon, for example, supposing there were an accomplice to be +bribed--if the Council were to commission such a one as you, my +Calabressa, to institute inquiries, and perhaps to satisfy those two +appellants that no injustice has been done, you would undertake the task +with diligence, with a sense of responsibility, would you not?" + +"With joy--with a full heart, Excellenza!" Calabressa exclaimed. + +"Oh no, not at all--with prudence and disinterestedness; with calmness +and no prejudice; and, above all, with a resolution to conceal from our +friend and colleague Lind that any slight of suspicion is being put upon +him." + +"Oh, you can trust me, Excellenza!" Calabressa said, eagerly. + +"Let me do this for the sake of the sweetheart of my old age--that is +that beautiful-souled little one; and if I cannot bring her peace and +security one way--mind, I go without prejudice--I swear to you I go +without bias--I will harm no one even in intention--but this I say, that +if I fail that way there is another." + +"You have seen the two men, Beratinsky and Reitzei, who were of the +ballot along with Lind and the Englishman. To me they are but names. +Describe them to me." + +"Beratinsky," said Calabressa, promptly, "a bear--surly, pig-headed; +Reitzei, a fop--sinuous, petted." + +"Which would be the more easily started, for example?" the tall man +said, with a smile. + +"Oh, your Excellency, leave that to me," Calabressa answered. "Give me +no definite instructions: am I not a volunteer?--can I not do as I +please, always with the risk that one may knock me over the head if I am +impertinent?" + +"Well, then, if you leave it to your discretion, friend Calabressa, to +your ingenuity, and your desire to have justice without bias, have you +money?" + +"Not at all, Excellenza." + +"The Secretary Granaglia will communicate with you this evening. You can +start at once?" + +"By the direct train to-morrow morning at seven. Excellenza." Then he +added, "Oh, the devil!" + +"What now?" + +"There was a young fellow, Excellenza, committed the imprudence of +dogging my footsteps this afternoon. I know him. I stopped him and +referred him to the captain of the schooner _La Svezia_: he was to bring +me the receipt to morrow." + +"Never mind," said the general, laughing; "we will look after him when +he goes on board. Now do you understand, friend Calabressa, the great +delicacy of the mission the Council have intrusted to you? You must be +patient, sure, unbiassed; and if, as I imagine, Lind and you were not +the best of friends at one time in your life, you must forget all that. +You are not going as the avenger of his daughter; you are going as the +minister of justice--only you have power behind you; that you can allow +to be known indirectly. Do you understand?" + +"It is as clear as the noonday skies. Confide in me, Excellenza." The +other rose. + +"Use speed, my Calabressa. Farewell!" + +"One word, Excellenza. If it is not too great a favor, the hotel where +my beautiful Natalushka and her mother are staying?" + +The other gave him the name of the hotel; and Calabressa, saluting him +respectfully, departed, making his way down through the terraces of +fruit-trees under the clear twilight skies. + +Calabressa walked back to Naples, and to the hotel indicated, which was +near the Castello dell' Ovo. No sooner had the hotel porter opened for +him the big swinging doors than he recollected that he did not know for +whom he ought to ask; but at this moment Natalie came along the +corridor, dressed and ready to go out. + +"My little daughter!" he exclaimed, taking her by both hands, "did not +I say you would soon find me when there was need?" + +"Will you come up-stairs and see my mother, Signor Calabressa?" said +she. "You know why she and I are together now?--my grandfather is dead." + +"Yes, I will go and see your mother," said he, after a second: she did +not notice the strange expression of his face during that brief +hesitation. + +There was a small sitting-room between the two bedrooms; Natalie +conducted him into it, and went into the adjoining chamber for her +mother. A minute after these two friends and companions of former days +met. They held each other's hand in silence for a brief time. + +"My hair was not so gray when you last saw me," the worn-faced woman +said, at length, with a smile. + +Calabressa could not speak at all. + +"Mother," the girl said, to break in on this painful embarrassment, "you +have not seen Signor Calabressa for so long a time. Will he not stay and +dine with us? the _table-d'hote_, is at half-past six." + +"Not the _table-d'hote_, my little daughter," Calabressa said. "But if +one were permitted to remain here, for example--" + +"Oh yes, certainly." + +"There are many things I wish to speak about; and so little time. +To-morrow morning I start for England." + +"For England?" + +"Most certainly, little daughter. And you have a message, perhaps, for +me to carry? Oh, you may let it be cheerful," he said, with his usual +gay optimism. "I tell you--I myself, and I do not boast--let it be +cheerful! What did I say to you? You are in trouble; I said to you, +count upon having friends!" + +Calabressa did stay; and they had a kind of meal in this room; and there +was a great deal to talk over between the two old friends. But on all +matters referring to the moment he preserved a resolute silence. He was +not going to talk at the very outset. He was going to England--that was +all. + +But as he was bidding good-bye to Natalie, he drew her a step or two +into the passage. + +"Little child," said he, in a low voice, "your mother is suffering +because of your sorrow. It is needless. I assure you all will be well: +have I spoken in vain before? It is not for one bearing the name that +you have to despair." + +"Good-bye, then, Signor Calabressa." + +"_Au revoir_, child: is not that better?" + + + + +CHAPTER L. + +A WEAK BROTHER. + + +George Brand was sitting alone in these rooms of his, the lamps lit, the +table near him covered with papers. He had just parted with two +visitors--Molyneux and a certain learned gentleman attached to Owens +College--who had come to receive his final plans and hints as to what +still lay before them in the north. On leaving, the fresh-colored, +brisk-voiced Molyneux had said to him, + +"Well, Mr. Brand, seeing you so eager about what has to be done up +there, one might wonder at your leaving us and going off pleasuring. But +no matter; a man must have his holiday; so I wish you a pleasant +journey, and we'll do our best till you come back." + +So that also was settled. In fact, he had brought all his affairs up to +a point that would enable him to start at any moment. But about Natalie? +He had not heard from her through any channel whatever. He had not the +least idea whither she had gone. Moreover, he gathered from Reitzei that +her father--who, in Reitzei's opinion, could at once have discovered +where she was--refused to trouble himself in the matter, and, indeed, +would not permit her name to be mentioned in his presence. + +He leaned back in his chair with a sigh. Of what value to him now were +these carefully calculated suggestions about districts, centres, +conveners, and what not? And yet he had appeared deeply interested while +his two visitors were present. For the time being the old eagerness had +stirred him; the pride he had taken in his own work. But now that was +passed from him; he had relinquished his stewardship; and as he absently +gazed out into the black night before him, his thoughts drifted far +away. He was startled from his reverie by some one knocking at the door. +Immediately after Gathorne Edwards entered. + +"Waters said I should find you alone," said the tall, pale, blue-eyed +student. "I have come to you about Kirski." + +"Sit down. Well?" + +"It's a bad business," he said, taking a chair, and looking rather +gloomy and uncomfortable. "He has taken to drink badly. I have been to +him, talked to him, but I have no influence over him, apparently. I +thought perhaps you might do something with him." + +"Why, I cannot even speak to him!" + +"Oh, he is accustomed to make much out of a few words; and I would go +with you." + +"But what is the occasion of all this? How can he have taken to drink in +so short a time?" + +"A man can drink himself into a pretty queer state in a very short time +when he sets his mind to it," Edwards said. "He has given up his work +altogether, and is steadily boozing away the little savings he had made. +He has gone back to his blood and kill, too; wants some one to go with +him to murder that fellow out in Russia who first of all took his wife, +and then beat him and set dogs on him. The fact is, Calabressa's cure +has gone all to bits." + +"It is a pity. The unfortunate wretch has had enough trouble. But what +is the cause of it?" + +"It is rather difficult to explain," said Edwards with some +embarrassment. "One can only guess, for his brain is muddled, and he +maunders. You know Calabressa's flowery, poetical interpretation. It was +Miss Lind, in fact, who had worked a miracle. Well, there was something +in it. She was kind to him, after he had been cuffed about Europe, and a +sort of passion of gratitude took possession of him. Then he was led to +believe at that time that--that he might be of service to her or her +friends, and he gave up his projects of revenge altogether--he was ready +for any sacrifice--and, in fact, there was a project--" Edwards glanced +at his companion; but Brand happened at that moment to be looking out of +the window. + +"Well, you see, all that fell through; and he had to come back to +England disappointed; then there was no Calabressa to keep him up to his +resolutions: besides that, he found out--how, I do not know--that Miss +Lind had left London." + +"Oh, he found that out?" + +"Apparently. And he says he is of no further use to anybody; and all he +wants is to kill the man Michaieloff, and then make an end of himself." + +Brand rose at once. + +"We must go and see the unfortunate devil, Edwards. His brain never was +steady, you know, and I suppose even two or three days' hard drinking +has made him wild again. And just as I had prepared a little surprise +for him!" + +"What?" Edwards asked, as he opened the door. + +"I have made him a little bequest that would have produced him about +twenty pounds a year, to pay his rent. It will be no kindness to give it +to him until we see him straight again." + +But Edwards pushed the door to again, and said in a low voice, + +"Of course, Mr. Brand, you must know of the Zaccatelli affair?" + +Brand regarded him, and said, calmly, + +"I do. There are five men in England who know of it; you and I are two +of them." + +"Well," said Edwards, eagerly, "if such a thing were determined on, +wouldn't it have been better to let this poor wretch do it? He would +have gloried in it; he had the enthusiasm of the martyr just then; he +thought he was to be allowed to do something that would make Miss Lind +and her friends forever grateful to him." + +"And who put it into his head that Miss Lind knew anything about +it?--Calabressa, I suppose." + +Edwards colored slightly. + +"Well, yes--" + +"And it was Calabressa who intrusted such a secret as that to a +maniac--" + +"Pardon me, Kirski never knew specifically what lay before him; but he +was ready for anything. For my own part, I was heartily glad when they +sent him back to England. I did not wish to have any hand in such a +business, however indirectly; and, indeed, I hope they have abandoned +the whole project by this time." + +"It might be wiser, certainly," said Brand, with an indifferent air. + +"If they go on with it, it will make a fearful noise in Europe," said +Edwards, contemplatively. "The assassination of a cardinal! Well, his +life has been scandalous enough--but still, his death, in such a way--" + +"It will horrify people, will it not?" Brand said, calmly; "and his +murderer will be execrated and howled at throughout Europe, no doubt!" + +"Well, yes; you see, who is to know the motives?" + +"There won't be a single person to say a single word for him," said +Brand, absently. "It is an enviable fate, isn't it, for some wretched +mortal? No matter, Edwards; we will go and look up this fellow Kirski +now." + +They went out into the night--it was cold and drizzling--and made their +way up into Soho. They knocked at the door of a shabby-looking house; +and Kirski's landlady made her appearance. She was very angry when his +name was mentioned; of course he was not at home; they would find him in +some public-house or other--the animal! + +"But he pays his rent, doesn't he?" Brand remonstrated. + +Oh yes, he paid his rent. But she didn't like a wild beast in the house. +It was decent lodgings she kept; not a Wombwell's Menagerie. + +"I am sure he gives you no trouble, ma'am," said Edwards, who had seen +something of the meek and submissive way the Russian conducted himself +in his lodgings. + +This she admitted, but promptly asked how she was to know she mightn't +have her throat cut some night? And what was the use of her talking to +him, when he didn't know two words of a Christian language? + +They gathered from this that the good woman had been lecturing her +docile lodger, and had been seriously hurt because of his inattention. +However, she at last consented to give them the name of the particular +public-house in which he was likely to be found, and they again set off +in quest of him. + +They found him easily. He was seated in a corner of the crowded and +reeking bar-room by himself, nursing a glass of gin-and-water with his +two trembling hands. When they entered, he looked up and regarded them +with bleared, sunken eyes, evidently recognized them, and then turned +away sullenly. + +"Tell him I am not come to bully him," said Brand quickly. "Tell him I +am come about some work. I want a cabinet made by a first-class workman +like himself." + +Edwards went forward and put his hand on the man's shoulder and spoke to +him for some time; then he turned to Brand. + +"He says, 'No use; no use.' He cannot work any more. They won't give him +help to kill Pavel Michaieloff. He wishes to die." + +"Ask him, then, what the young lady who gave him her portrait will think +of him if she hears he is in this condition. Ask him how he has dared to +bring her portrait into a place like this." + +When this was conveyed to Kirski, he seemed to arouse himself somewhat; +he even talked eagerly for a few seconds; then he turned away again, as +if he did not wish to be seen. + +"He says," Edwards continued, "that he has not, that he would not bring +that portrait into any such place. He was afraid it might be found--it +might be taken from him. He made a small casket of oak, carved by his +own hands, and lined it with zinc; he put the photograph in it, and hid +himself in the trees of St. James's Park--at least, I imagine that St. +James's Park is what he means--at night. Then he buried it there. He +knows the place. When he has killed Michaieloff he will come back and +dig it up." + +"The poor devil--his brain is certainly going, drink or no drink. What +is to be done with him, Edwards?" + +"He says the young lady has gone away. He cares for nothing. He is of no +use. He despairs of getting enough money to take him back to Russia." + +After a great deal of persuasion, however, they got him to leave the +public-house with them and return to his lodgings. They got him some tea +and some bread-and-butter, and made him swallow both. Then Edwards, +under his friend's instructions, proceeded to impress on Kirski that the +young lady was only away from London for a short time: that she would be +greatly distressed if she were to hear he had been misconducting +himself; that, if he returned to his work on the following morning, he +would find that his master would overlook his absence; and that finally, +he was to abandon his foolish notions about going to Russia, for he +would find no one to assist him; whereas, on the other hand, if he went +about proclaiming that he was about to commit a crime, he would be taken +by the police and shut up. All this, and a great deal more, they tried +to impress on him; and Edwards promised to call the next evening and see +how he was getting on. + +It was late when Brand and Edwards again issued out into the wet night; +and Edwards, having promised to post a line to Kirski's employers, so +that they should get it in the morning, said good-bye, and went off to +his own lodgings. Brand walked slowly home through the muddy streets. He +preferred the glare and the noise to the solitude of his own rooms. He +even stood aimlessly to watch a theatre come out; the people seemed so +careless and joyous--calling to each other--making feeble jokes--passing +away under their umbrellas into the wet and shining darkness. + +But at length, without any definite intention, he found himself at the +foot of the little thoroughfare in which he lived; and he was about to +open the door with his latch-key when out of the dusk beyond there +stepped forth a tall figure. He was startled, it is true, by the +apparition of this tall, white-haired man in the voluminous blue cloak, +the upturned hood of which half concealed his face, and he turned with a +sort of instinct of anger to face him. + +"Monsieur mon frere, you have arrived at last!" said the stranger, and +instantly he recognized in the pronunciation of the French the voice of +Calabressa. + +"What!" he said; "Calabressa?" + +The other put a finger on his arm. + +"Hush!" he said. "It is a great secret, my being here; I confide in +you. I would not wait in your rooms--my faith no! for I said to myself, +'What if he brings home friends who will know me, who will ask what the +devil Calabressa is doing in this country.'" + +Brand had withdrawn his hand from the lock. + +"Calabressa," he said, quickly, "you, if anybody knows, must know where +Natalie and her mother are. Tell me!" + +"I will directly; but may I point out to you, my dear Monsieur Brand, +that it rains--that we might go inside? Oh yes, certainly, I will tell +you when we can say a word in secret, in comfort. But this devil of a +climate! What should I have done if I had not bought myself this cloak +in Paris? In Paris it was cold and wet enough; but one had nothing like +what you have here. Sapristi! my fingers are frozen." + +Brand hurried him up-stairs, put him into an easy-chair, and stirred up +the fire. + +"Now," said he, impatiently--"now, my dear Calabressa, your news!" + +Calabressa pulled out a letter. + +"The news--voila!" + +Brand tore open the envelope; these were the contents: + + * * * * * + +"Dearest,--This is to adjure you not to leave England for the +present--not till you hear from me--or until we return. Have patience, +and hope. You are not forgotten. My mother sends you her blessing. + + Your Betrothed." + + * * * * * + +"But there is no address!" he exclaimed. "Where are they?" + +"Where are they? It is no secret, do you see? They are in Naples." + +"In Naples!" + +"Oh, I assure you, my dear friend, it is a noble heart, a brave heart, +that loves you. Many a day ago I said to her, 'Little child, when you +are in trouble, go to friends who will welcome you; say you are the +daughter of Natalie Berezolyi; say to them that Calabressa sent you.' +And you thought she was in no trouble! Ah, did she not tell me of the +pretty home you had got for the poor mother who is my old friend? did +she not tell me how you thought they were to be comfortable there, and +take no heed of anything else? But you were mistaken. You did not know +her. She said,'My betrothed is in danger: I will take Calabressa at his +word: before any one can hinder me, or interfere, I will go and appeal, +in the name of my family, in the name of myself!' Ah, the brave child!" + +"But appeal to whom?" said Brand, breathlessly. + +"To the Council, my friend!" said Calabressa with exultation. + +"But gracious heavens!" Brand cried, with his hand nervously clutching +the arm of his chair, "is the secret betrayed, then? Do they think I +will shelter myself behind a woman?" + +"She could betray no secret," Calabressa said, triumphantly, "she +herself not knowing it, do you not perceive? But she could speak +bravely!" + +"And the result?" + +"Who knows what that may be? In the mean time, this is the result--I am +here!" + +At another moment this assumption of dignity would have been +ludicrous; but Brand took no heed of the manner of his companion; +his heart was beating wildly. And even when his reason forced him to +see how little he could expect from this intervention--when he +remembered what a decree of the Council was, and how irrevocable the +doom he had himself accepted--still the thought uppermost in his +mind was not of his own safety or danger, but rather of her love and +devotion, her resolve to rescue him, her quick and generous impulse +that knew nothing of fear. He pictured her to himself in Naples, +calling upon this nameless and secret power, that every man around +him dreaded, to reverse its decision! And then the audacity of her +bidding him hope! He could not hope; he knew more than she did. But +his heart was full of love and of gratitude as he thought of her. + +"My dear friend," said Calabressa, lowering his voice, "my errand is one +of great secrecy. I have a commission which I cannot altogether explain +to you. But in the mean time you will be so good as to give me--_in +extense_, with every particular--the little history of how you were +appointed to--to undertake a certain duty." + +"Unfortunately, I cannot," Brand said, calmly; "these are things one is +not permitted to talk about." + +"But I must insist on it, my dear friend." + +"Then I must insist on refusing you." + +"You are trustworthy. No matter: here is something which I think will +remove your suspicions, my good friend--or shall we not rather say your +scruples?" + +He took from his pocket-book a card, and placed it somewhat +ostentatiously on the table. Brand examined it, and then stared at +Calabressa in surprise. + +"You come with the authority of the Council?" + +"By the goodness of Heaven," Calabressa exclaimed with a laugh, "you +have arrived at the truth this time!" + + + + +CHAPTER LI. + +THE CONJURER. + + +There was no mistaking the fact that Calabressa had come armed with +ample authority from the Council, and yet it was with a strange +reluctance that Brand forced himself to answer the questions that +Calabressa proceeded to put to him. He had already accepted his doom. +The bitterness of it was over. He would rather have let the past be +forgotten altogether, and himself go forward blindly to the appointed +end. Why those needless explanations and admissions? + +Moreover, Calabressa's questions, which had been thought over during +long railway journeys, were exceedingly crafty. They touched here and +there on certain small points, as if he were building up for himself a +story. But at last Brand said, by way of protest, + +"Look here, Calabressa. I see you are empowered to ask me any questions +you like--and I am quite willing to answer--about the business of the +Council. But really, don't you see, I would rather not speak of private +matters. What can the Council want to know about Natalie Lind? Leave her +out of it, like a good fellow." + +"Oh yes, my dear Monsieur Brand," said Calabressa, with a smile, "leave +her out of it, truly, when she has gone to the Council; when the Council +have said, 'Child, you have not appealed to us for nothing;' when it is +through her that I have travelled all through the cold and wet, and am +now sitting here. Remember this, my friend, that the beautiful +Natalushka is now a--what do you call it?--a _ward_" (Calabressa put +this word in English into the midst of his odd French), "and a _ward_ of +a sufficiently powerful court, I can assure you, monsieur! Therefore, I +say, I cannot leave the beautiful child out. She is of importance to me; +why am I here otherwise? Be considerate, my friend; it is not +impertinence; it is not curiosity." + +Then he proceeded with his task; getting, in a roundabout, cunning, +shrewd way, at a pretty fair version of what had occurred. And he was +exceedingly circumspect. He endeavored, by all sorts of circumlocutions, +to hide from Brand the real drift of his inquiry. He would betray +suspicion of no one. His manner was calm, patient, almost indifferent. +All this time Brand's thoughts were far away. He was speaking to +Calabressa, but he was thinking of Naples. + +But when they came to Brand's brief description of what took place in +Lisle Street on the night of the casting of the lot, Calabressa became +greatly excited, though he strove to appear perfectly calm. + +"You are sure," he said, quickly, "that was precisely what happened?" + +"As far as I know," said Brand, carelessly. "But why go into it? If I do +not complain, why should any one else?" + +"Did I say that any one complained?" observed the astute Calabressa. + +"Then why should any one wish to interfere? I am satisfied. You do not +mean to say, Calabressa, that any one over there thinks that I am +anxious to back out of what I have undertaken--that I am going down on +my knees and begging to be let off? Well, at all events, Natalie does +not think that," he added, as if it did not matter much what any other +thought. + +Calabressa was silent; but his eyes were eager and bright, and he was +quickly tapping the palm of his left hand with the forefinger of the +right. Then he regarded Brand with a sharp, inquisitive look. Then he +jumped to his feet. + +"Good-night, my friend," he said, hurriedly. + +But Brand rose also, and sought to detain him. + +"No, no, my good Calabressa, you are not going yet; you have kept me +talking for your amusement; now it is your turn. You have not yet told +me about Natalie and her mother." + +"They are well--they are indeed well, I assure you," said Calabressa, +uneasily. He was clearly anxious to get away. By this time he had got +hold of his cloak and swung it round his shoulders. + +"Calabressa, sit down, and tell me something about Natalie. What made +her undertake such a journey? Is she troubled? Is she sad? I thought her +life was full of interest now, her mother being with her." + +Calabressa had got his cap, and had opened the door. + +"Another time, dear Monsieur Brand, I will sit down and tell you all +about the beautiful, brave child, and my old friend her mother. Yes, +yes--another time--to-morrow--next day. At present one is overwhelmed +with affairs, do you see?" + +So saying, he forced Brand to shake hands with him, and went out, +shutting the door behind him. + +But no sooner had he got into the street than the eager, talkative, +impulsive nature of the man, so long confined, broke loose. He took no +heed that it was raining hard. He walked fast; he talked aloud to +himself in his native tongue, in broken interjectional phrases; +occasionally he made use of violent gestures, which were not lessened in +their effect by the swaying cape of his cloak. + +"Ah, those English--those English!" he was excitedly saying--"such +children!--blue, clear eyes that see nothing--the devil! why should they +meddle in such affairs? To play at such a game!--fool's mate; scholar's +mate; asses and idiots' mate--they have scarcely got a pawn out, and +they are wondering what they will do, when whizz! along comes the queen, +and she and the bishop have finished all the fine combinations before +they were ever begun! And you, you others, imps of hell, to play that +old foolish game again! But take care, my friends, take care; there is +one watching you, one waiting for you, who does not speak, but who +strikes! Ah, it is a pretty game; you, you sullen brute; you, you fop +and dandy; but when you are sitting silent round the board, behold a +dagger flashes down and quivers into the wood! No wonder your eyes burn! +you do not know whence it has come? But the steel-blade quivers; is it a +warning?" + +He laughed aloud, but there were still omnibuses and cabs in the street; +so he was not heard. Indeed, the people who were on the pavement were +hurrying past to get out of the rain, and took no notice of the old +albino in the voluminous cloak. + +"Natalushka," said he, quite as if he were addressing some one before +him, "do you know that I am trudging through the mud of this infernal +city all for you? And you, little sybarite, are among the fine ladies of +the reading-room at the hotel, and listening to music, and the air all +scented around you. Never mind; if only I had a little bird that could +fly to you with a message--ah, would you not have pleasant dreams +to-night? Did I not tell you to rely on Calabressa? He chatters to you; +he tries to amuse you; but he is not always Policinella. No, not always +Policinella: sometimes he is silent and cunning; sometimes--what do you +think?--he is a conjurer. Oh yes, you are not seen, you are not heard; +but when you have them round the board, whirr! comes the gleaming blade +and quivers in the wood! You look round; the guilty one shakes with the +palsy; his wits go; his startled tongue confesses. Then you laugh; you +say, 'That is well done;' you say, 'Were they wrong in giving this +affair to Calabressa?'" + +Now, whether it was that his rapid walking helped to relieve him of this +over-excitement, or whether it was that the soaking rain began to make +him uncomfortable, he was much more staid in demeanor when he got up to +the little lane in Oxford Street where the Culturverein held its +meetings. Of course, he did not knock and demand admission. He stopped +some way down the street, on the other side, where he found shelter from +the rain in a door-way, and whence he could readily observe any one +coming out from the hall of the Verein. Then he succeeded in lighting a +cigarette. + +It was a miserable business, this waiting in the cold, damp night air; +but sometimes he kept thinking of how he would approach Reitzei in the +expected interview; and sometimes he thought of Natalie; and again, with +his chilled and dripping fingers he would manage to light a cigarette. +Again and again the door of the hall was opened, and this or the other +figure came out from the glare of the gas into the dark street; but so +far no Reitzei. It was now nearly one in the morning. + +Finally, about a quarter past one, the last batch of boon companions +came out, and the lights within were extinguished. Calabressa followed +this gay company, who were laughing and joking despite the rain, for a +short way; but it was clear that neither Beratinsky nor Reitzei was +among them. Then he turned, and made his way to his own lodgings, where +he arrived tired, soaked through, but not apparently disheartened. + +Next morning he was up betimes, and at a fairly early hour walked along +to Coventry Street, where he took up his station at the east corner of +Rupert Street, so that he could see any one going westward, himself +unseen. Here he was more successful. He had not been there ten minutes +when Reitzei passed. Calabressa hastened after him, overtook him, and +tapped him on the shoulder. + +"Ah, Calabressa!" said Reitzei, surprised, but in noway disconcerted. + +"I wish to speak with you," said Calabressa, himself a little agitated, +though he did not show it. + +"Certainly; come along. Mr. Lind will arrive soon." + +"No, alone. I wish to speak to you alone." + +Calabressa looked around. The only place of shelter he saw was a rather +shabby restaurant, chiefly used as a supper-room, and at this moment +having the appearance of not being yet woke up. Reitzei was in a +compliant mood. He suffered himself to be conducted into this place, to +the astonishment of one or two unwashed-looking waiters, who were seated +and reading the previous evening's papers. Calabressa and Reitzei sat +down at one of the small tables; the former ordered some coffee, the +latter a bottle of soda-water. + +By this time Calabressa had collected himself for the part he was about +to play. + +"Well, my friend," said he, cheerfully, "what news? When is Europe to +hear the fate of the Cardinal?" + +"I don't know; I know very little about it," said Reitzei, glancing at +him rather suspiciously. + +"It is a terrible business," said Calabressa, reflectively, "a decree of +the Council. You would think that one so powerful, so well protected, +would be able to escape, would you not? But he himself knows better. He +knows he is as powerless as you might be, for example, or myself." + +"Oh, as for that," said Reitzei, boldly, "he knows he has deserved it: +what more? He has had his little fling, now comes the settlement of the +score." + +"And I hear that our friend Brand is to be the instrument of justice: +how strange! He has not been so long with us." + +"That is Mr. Lind's affair: it has nothing to do with me," said Reitzei, +shortly. + +"Well," said Calabressa, toying with his coffee-cup. "I hope I shall +never be tempted to do anything that might lead the Council to condemn +me. Fancy such a life; every moment expecting some one to step up behind +you with a knife or a pistol, and the end sure! I would take Provana's +plan. The poor devil; as soon as he heard he had been condemned he could +not bear living. He never thought of escape: a few big stones in the +pockets of his coat, and over he slips into the Arno. And Mesentskoff: +you remember him? His only notion of escape was to give himself up to +the police--twenty-five years in the mines. I think Provana's plan was +better." + +Reitzei became a little uneasy, or perhaps only impatient. + +"Well, Calabressa," he said, "one must be getting along to one's +affairs--" + +"Oh yes, yes, truly," Calabressa said. "I only wished to know a little +more about the Cardinal. You see he cannot give himself up like +Mesentskoff, though he might confess to a hundred worse things than the +Russian ever did. Provana--well, you know the Society has always been +inexorable with regard to its own officers: and rightly, too, Reitzei, +is it not so? If one finds malversation of justice among those in a high +grade, should not the punishment be exemplary? The higher the power, the +higher the responsibility. You, for example, are much too shrewd a man +to risk your life by taking any advantage of your position as one of the +officers--" + +"I don't understand you, Calabressa," the other said, somewhat hotly. + +"I only meant to say," Calabressa observed, carelessly, "that the +punishment for malversation of justice on the part of an officer is so +terrible, so swift, and so sure, that no one but a madman would think of +running the risk--" + +"Yes, but what has that to do with me?" Reitzei said, angrily. + +"Nothing, my dear friend, nothing," said Calabressa, soothingly. "But +now, about this selection of Mr. Brand--" + +Reitzei turned rather pale for a second; but said instantly, and with +apparent anger, + +"I tell you that is none of my business. That is Mr. Lind's business. +What have I to do with it?" + +"Do not be so impatient, my friend," said Calabressa, looking at his +coffee. "We will say that, as usual, there was a ballot. All quite fair. +No man wishes to avoid his duty. It is the simplest thing in the world +to mark one of your pieces of paper with a red mark: whoever receives +the marked paper undertakes the commission. All is quite fair, I say. +Only you know, I dare say, the common, the pitiful trick of the conjurer +who throws a pack of cards on the table, backs up. You take one, look at +it privately, return it, and the cards are shuffled. Without lifting the +cards at all he tells you that the one you selected was the eight of +diamonds: why? It is no miracle: all the cards are eight of diamonds; +though you, you poor innocent, do not know that. It is a wretched +trick," added Calabressa, coolly. + +Reitzei drank off the remainder of his soda-water at a gulp. He stared +at Calabressa in silence, afraid to speak. + +"My dear friend Reitzei," said Calabressa, at length raising his eyes +and fixing them on his companion, "you could not be so insane as to play +any trick like that?--having four pieces of paper, for example, all +marked red, the marks under the paper? You would not enter into any such +conspiracy, for you know, friend Reitzei, that the punishment +is--death!" + +The man had turned a ghastly gray-green color. He was apparently choking +with thirst, though he had just finished the soda-water. He could not +speak. + +Calabressa calmly waited for him; but in his heart he was saying +exultingly, "_Ha! the dagger quivers in the board: his eyes are starting +from his head; is it Calabressa or Cagliostro that has paralyzed him?_" + +At length the wretched creature opposite him gasped out, + +"Beratinsky--" + +But he could say no more. He motioned to a waiter to bring him some +soda-water. + +"Yes, Beratinsky?" said Calabressa, calmly regarding the livid face. + +"--has betrayed us!" he said, with trembling lips. In fact, there was no +fight in him at all, no angry repudiation; he was helpless with this +sudden bewilderment of fear. + +"Not quite," said Calabressa; and he now spoke in a low, eager voice. +"It is for you to save yourself by forestalling him. It is your one +chance; otherwise the decree; and good-bye to this world for you! +See--look at this card--I say it is your only chance, friend +Reitzei--for I am empowered by the Council to promise you, or +Beratinsky, or any one, a free pardon on confession. Oh, I assure you +the truth is clear: has not one eyes? You, poor devil, you cannot speak: +shall I go to Beratinsky and see whether he can speak?" + +"What must I do--what must I do?" the other gasped, in abject terror. +Calabressa, regarding this exhibition of cowardice, could not help +wondering how Lind had allowed such a creature to associate with him. + +Then Calabressa, sure of victory, began to breathe more freely. He +assumed a lofty air. + +"Trust in me, friend Reitzei. I will instruct you. If you can persuade +the Council of the truth of your story, I promise you they will absolve +you from the operations of a certain Clause which you know of. Meanwhile +you will come to my lodgings and write a line to Lind, excusing yourself +for the day; then this evening I dare say it will be convenient for you +to start for Naples. Oh, I assure you, you owe me thanks: you did not +know the danger you were in; hereafter you will say, 'Well, it was no +other than Calabressa who pulled me out of that quagmire.'" + +A few minutes thereafter Calabressa was in a telegraph-office, and this +was the message he despatched: + + * * * * * + +"Colonna, London: to Bartolotti, Vicolo Isotta, No. 15, Naples. Ridotto +will arrive immediately, colors down. Send orders for Luigi and Bassano +to follow." + + * * * * * + +"It is a bold stroke," he was saying to himself, as he left the office, +"but I have run some risks in my time. What is one more or less?" + + + + +CHAPTER LII. + +FIAT JUSTITIA. + + +This scheme of Calabressa's had been so rapidly conceived and put in +execution, that he had had no time to think of its possible or certain +consequences, in the event of his being successful. His immediate and +sole anxiety was to make sure of his captive. There was always the +chance that a frightened and feeble creature like Reitzei might double +back; he might fly to Lind and Beratinsky, and seek security in a new +compact; for who could prove any thing if the three were to maintain +their innocence? However, as Calabressa shrewdly perceived, Reitzei was +in the dark as to how much the Council knew already. Moreover, he had +his suspicions of Beratinsky. If there was to be a betrayal, he was +clearly resolved to have the benefit of it. Nevertheless, Calabressa did +not lose sight of him for a moment. He took him to his, Calabressa's +lodgings; kept assuring him that he ought to be very grateful for being +thus allowed to escape; got him to write and despatch a note to Lind, +excusing himself for that day and the next, and then proceeded to give +him instructions as to what he should do in Naples. These instructions, +by-the-way, were entirely unnecessary; it is no part of Calabressa's +plan to allow Reitzei to arrive in Naples alone. + +After a mid-day meal, Calabressa and Reitzei walked up to the lodgings +of the latter, where he got a few travelling things put together. +By-and-by they went to the railway station, Calabressa suggesting that +it was better for Reitzei to get away from London as soon as possible. +The old albino saw his companion take his seat in the train for Dover, +and then turned away and re-entered the busy world of the London +streets. + +The day was fine after the rain; the pavements were white and dry; he +kept in the sunlight for the sake of the warmth; but he had not much +attention for the sights and sounds around him. Now that this sudden +scheme promised to be entirely successful, he could consider the +probable consequences of that success; and, as usual, his first thought +was about Natalie. + +"Poor child--poor child!" he said to himself, rather sadly. "How could +she tell how this would end? If she saves the life of her lover, it is +at the cost of the life of her father. The poor child!--must misfortune +meet her whichever way she turns?" + +And then, too, some touch of compunction or even remorse entered into +his own bosom. He had been so eager in the pursuit? he had been so +anxious to acquit himself to the satisfaction of the Council, that he +had scarcely remembered that his success would almost certainly involve +the sacrifice of one who was at least an old colleague. Ferdinand Lind +and Calabressa had never been the very best of friends; during one +period, indeed, they had been rivals; but that had been forgotten in the +course of years, and what Calabressa now remembered was that Lind and he +had at least been companions in the old days. + +"Seventeen years ago," he was thinking, "he forfeited his life to the +Society, and they gave it back to him. They will not pardon him this +time. And who is to take the news to Natalie and the beautiful brave +child? Ah, what will she say? My God, is there no happiness for any one +in this world?" + +He was greatly distressed; but in his distress he became desperate. He +would not look that way at all. He boldly justified himself for what he +had done, and strove to regard it with satisfaction. What if both Lind +and Beratinsky were to suffer; had they not merited any punishment that +might befall them? Had they not compassed the destruction of an innocent +man? Would it have been better, then, that George Brand should have +become the victim of an infamous conspiracy? _Fiat justitia!_--no matter +at what cost. Natalie must face the truth. Better that the guilty should +suffer than the innocent. And he, Calabressa, for one, was not going to +shirk any responsibility for what might happen. He had obeyed the orders +of the Council. He had done his duty: that was enough. + +He forced himself not to think of Natalie, and of the dismay and horror +with which she would learn of one of the consequences of her appeal. +This was a matter between men--to be settled by men: if the consciences +of women were tender, it could not be helped. Calabressa walked faster +and faster, as it he were trying to get away from something that +followed and annoyed him. He pretended to himself that he was deeply +interested in a shop-window here or there; occasionally he whistled; he +sung "Vado a Napoli in barchetta" with forced gayety; he twisted his +long white moustache, and then he made his way down to Brand's rooms. + +Here he was also very gay. + +"Now, my dear Monsieur Brand, to-day I have idleness; to-day I will talk +to you; yesterday I could not." + +"Unfortunately," said Brand, "our positions are reversed now, for here +is a letter from Lind wanting me to go up to Lisle Street. It seems +Reitzei has had to go off into the country, leaving a lot of +correspondence--" + +"You are, then, on good terms with Lind?" Calabressa interposed, +quickly. + +"Yes; why not?" said Brand, with a stare. + +"I, also--I say, why not? It is excellent. Then you have no time for my +chatter?" said Calabressa, carelessly regarding the open letter. + +"At least you can tell me something about Natalie and her mother. Are +they well? What hotel are they at?" + +Calabressa laughed. + +"Yes, yes, my friend Monsieur Brand, you say, 'Are they well?' What you +mean is, 'What has taken them to Naples?' _Bien_, you are right to +wonder; you will not have to wonder long. A little patience; you will +hear something; do not be surprised. And you have no message, for +example, by way of reply to the letter I brought you?" + +"You are returning to Naples, then?" + +"To-night. I will take a message for you: if you have no time now, send +it to me at Charing Cross. Meanwhile, I take my leave." + +Calabressa rose, but was persuaded to resume his seat. + +"I see," said he, again laughing, "that you have a little time to hear +about the two wanderers. Oh, they are in a good hotel, I assure you; +pretty rooms; you look over to Capri; quite near you the Castello dell' +Ovo; and underneath your windows the waves--a charming view! And the +little Natalushka, she has not lost her spirits: she says to me, 'Dear +Mr. Calabressa, will you have the goodness to become my champion?' I say +to her, 'Against all the world!' 'Oh no,' she answers, 'not quite so +much as that. It is a man who sells agates and pebbles, and such things; +and no matter when I go out, he will follow me, and thrust himself +before me. Dear Mr. Calabressa, I do not want agates and pebbles, and he +is more importunate than all the others put together; and the servants +of the hotel can do nothing with him.' Oh, I assure you, it would have +made you laugh--her pretence of gravity! I said nothing--not I; what is +the use of making serious promises over trifles? But when I went out I +encountered the gentleman with the agates and pebbles. 'Friend,' said I, +'a word with you. Skip, dance, be off with you to the steps of some +other hotel; your presence is not agreeable here.' 'Who are you?' said +he, naturally. 'No matter,' said I; 'but do you wish to be presented +with two dozen of the school-master's sweetmeats?' 'Who are you?' said +he again. Then I took him by the ear and whispered something to him. By +the blood of Saint Peter, Monsieur Brand, you should have heard the +quick snap of his box, and seen the heels of him as he darted off like +an antelope! I tell you the grave-faced minx, that mocking Natalushka, +who makes fun of old people like me--well, she shall not any more be +troubled with agates and pebbles!" + +"Then she is quite cheerful and happy?" said Brand, somewhat wondering. + +"Sometimes," Calabressa said, more gravely. "One cannot always be +anxious; one has glimpses of hope; then the spirit rises; the eyes +laugh. You, for example, you do not seem much cast down?" + +Brand avoided his inquisitive look, and merely said, + +"One must take things as one finds them. There is no use repining over +what happens." + +Calabressa now rose and took his cap; then he laid it down on the table +again. + +"One moment before I go, my dear Monsieur Brand. I told you to expect +news; perhaps you will not understand. Shall I show you something to +help? Regard this: it is only a little trick; but it may help you to +understand when the news comes to you." + +He took from his pocket a piece of white paper, square, and with +apparently nothing on it. He laid it on the table, and produced a red +pencil. + +"May I trouble you for a small pair of scissors, my dear friend?" + +Brand stepped aside to a writing-desk, and brought him the scissors; he +was scarcely thinking of Calabressa, at all; he was thinking of the +message he would send to Naples. + +Calabressa slowly and carefully cut the piece of paper into four +squares, and proceeded to fold these up. Brand looked on, it is true, +but with little interest; and he certainly did not perceive that his +companion had folded three of these pieces with the under side inward, +the fourth with the upper side inward, while this had the rough edges +turned in a different direction from the other three. + +"Now, Mr. Brand," said Calabressa, calmly, "if one were drawing lots, +for example, what more simple than this? I take one of these pieces--you +see there is nothing on it--I print a red cross with my pencil; there, +it is folded again, and they all go into my cap." + +"Enough, Calabressa," Brand said, impatiently; "you show me that you +have questioned me closely enough. There is enough said about it." + +"I ask your pardon, my dear friend, there is not," said Calabressa, +politely; "for this is what I have to say now: draw one of the pieces of +paper." + +Brand turned away. + +"It is not a thing to be gone over again, I tell you; I have had enough +of it; let it rest." + +"It must not rest. I beg of you--my friend, I insist--" + +He pressed the cap on him. Brand, to get rid of him, drew one of the +papers and tossed it on to the table. Calabressa took it up, opened it, +and showed him the red cross. + +"Yes, you are again unfortunate, my dear Monsieur Brand. Fate pursues +you, does it not? But wait one moment. Will you open the other three +papers?" + +As Brand seemed impatient, Calabressa himself took them out and opened +them singly before him. On each and all was the same red mark. + +But now Brand was indifferent no longer + +"What do you mean, Calabressa?" he said, quickly. + +"I mean," said Calabressa, regarding him, "that one might prepare a +trick by which you would not have much chance of escape." + +Brand caught him by the arm. + +"Do you mean that these others--" He could not complete the sentence; +his brain was in a whirl; was this why Natalie had sent him that strange +message of hope? + +Calabressa released himself, and took his cap, and said, + +"I can tell you nothing, my dear friend--nothing. My lips are sealed for +the present. But surely one is permitted to show you a common little +trick with bits of paper!" + +"But you _must_ tell me what you mean," said Brand, breathlessly, and +with his face still somewhat pale. "You suggest there has been a trick. +That is why you have come from Naples? What do you know? What is about +to happen? For God's sake, Calabressa, don't have any mystification +about it: what is it that you know--that you suspect--that you have +heard?" + +"My dear friend," said Calabressa, with some anxiety, "perhaps I have +been indiscreet. I know nothing: what can I know? But I show you a +trick--if only to prepare you for any news--and you think it is very +serious. Oh no; do not be too hopeful--do not think it is serious--think +it was a foolish trick--" + +And so, notwithstanding all that Brand could do to force some definite +explanation from him, Calabressa succeeded in getting away, promising to +carry to Natalie any message Brand might send in the evening; and as for +Brand himself, it was now time for him to go up to Lisle Street, so that +he had something else to think of than idle mystifications. + +For this was how he took it in the end: Calabressa was whimsical, +fantastic, mysterious; he had been playing with the notion that Brand +had been entrapped into this service; he had succeeded in showing +himself how it might have been done. The worst of it was--had he been +putting vain hopes into the mind of Natalie? Was this the cause of her +message? In the midst of all this bewildering uncertainty, Brand set +himself to the work left unfinished by Reitzei, and found Ferdinand Lind +as pleasant and friendly a colleague as ever. + +But a few days after he was startled by being summoned back to Lisle +Street, after he had gone home in the afternoon. He found Ferdinand Lind +as calm and collected as usual, though he spoke in a hard, dry voice. He +was then informed that Lind himself and Beratinsky were about to leave +London for a time; that the Council wished Brand to conduct the business +at Lisle Street as best he could in their absence; and that he was to +summon to his aid such of the officers of the Society as he chose. He +asked no explanations, and Lind vouchsafed none. There was something +unusual in the expression of the man's face. + +Well, Brand installed himself in Lisle Street, and got along as best he +could with the assistance of Gathorne Edwards and one or two others. But +not one of them, any more than himself, knew what had happened or was +happening. No word or message of any kind came from Calabressa, or Lind, +or the Society, or any one. Day after day Brand get through his work +with patience, but without interest; only for the time being, these +necessities of the hour beguiled him from thinking of the hideous, +inevitable thing that lay ahead in his life. + +When news did come, it was sudden and terrible. One night he and Edwards +were alone in the rooms in Lisle Street, when a letter, sent through a +roundabout channel, was put into his hands. He opened it carelessly, +glanced at the beginning of it, then he uttered an exclamation; then, as +he read on, Edwards noticed that his companion's face was ghastly pale, +even to his lips. + +"Gracious heavens!--Edwards, read it!" he said, quite breathlessly. He +dropped the letter on the table. There was no wild joy at his own +deliverance in this man's face, there was terror rather; it was not of +himself at all he was thinking, but of the death-agony of Natalie Lind +when she should hear of her father's doom. + +"Why, this is very good news, Brand," Edwards cried, wondering. "You are +released from that affair--" + +But then he read farther, and he, too, became agitated. + +"What--what does it mean? Lind, Beratinsky, Reitzei accused of +conspiracy--misusing the powers intrusted to them as officers of the +Society--Reitzei acquitted on giving evidence--Lind and Beratinsky +condemned!" + +Edwards looked at his companion, aghast, and said, + +"You know what the penalty is, Brand?" + +The other nodded. Edwards returned to the letter, reading aloud, in +detached scraps, his voice giving evidence of his astonishment and +dismay. + +"Beratinsky, allowed the option of undertaking the duty from which you +are released, accepts--it is his only chance, I suppose--poor devil! +what chance is it, after all?" He put the letter back on the table. +"What is all this that has happened, Brand?" + +Brand did not answer. He had risen to his feet; he stood like one bound +with chains; there was suffering and an infinite pity in the haggard +face. + +"Why is not Natalie here?" he said; and it was strange that two men so +different from each other as Brand and Calabressa should in such a +crisis have had the same instinctive thought. The lives and fates of men +were nothing; it was the heart of a girl that concerned them. "They will +tell her--some of them over there--they will tell her suddenly that her +father is condemned to die! Why is she--among--among strangers?" + +He pulled out his watch hastily, but long ago the night-mail had left +for Dover. At this moment the bell rung below, and he started; it was +unusual for them to have a visitor at such an hour. + +"It is only that drunken fool Kirski," Edwards said. "I asked him to +come here to-night." + + + + +CHAPTER LIII. + +THE TRIAL. + + +It was a dark, wet, and cold night when Calabressa felt his way down the +gangway leading from the Admiralty Pier into the small Channel steamer +that lay slightly rolling at her moorings. Most of the passengers who +were already on board had got to leeward of the deck-cabins, and sat +huddled up there, undistinguishable bundles of rugs. For a time he +almost despaired of finding out Reitzei, but at last he was successful; +and he had to explain to this particular bundle of rugs that he had +changed his mind, and would himself travel with him to Naples. + +It was a dirty night in crossing, and both suffered considerably; the +difference being that, as soon as they got into the smooth waters of +Calais harbor, Calabressa recovered himself directly, whereas Reitzei +remained an almost inanimate heap of wrappings, and had to be assisted +or shoved up the steep gangway into the glare of the officials' lamps. +Then, as soon as he had got into a compartment of the railway-carriage, +he rolled himself up in a corner, and sought to forget his sufferings in +sleep. + +Calabressa was walking up and down on the platform. At length the bell +rung, and he was about to step into the compartment, when he found +himself preceded by a lady. + +"I beg your pardon, madame," said he, politely, "but it is a carriage +for smokers." + +"And if one wishes to smoke, one is permitted--is it not so?" said the +stranger, cheerfully. + +Calabressa at once held open the door for her, and then followed. These +three had the compartment to themselves. + +She was a young lady, good-looking, tall, bright-complexioned, with +brown eyes that had plenty of fire in them, and a pleasant smile that +showed brilliant teeth. Calabressa, sitting opposite her, judged that +she was an Austrian, from the number of bags and knickknacks she had, +all in red Russia leather, and from the number of trinkets she wore, +mostly of polished steel or silver. She opened a little tortoise-shell +cigarette-case, took out a cigarette, and gracefully accepted the light +that Calabressa offered her. By this time the train had started, and was +thundering through the night. + +The young lady was very frank and affable; she talked to her companion +opposite--Reitzei being fast asleep--about a great many things; she lit +cigarette after cigarette. She spoke of her husband moreover; and +complained that he should have to go and fight in some one else's +quarrel. Why could not ladies who went to the tables at Monte Carlo keep +their temper, that a perfectly neutral third person should be summoned +to fight a duel on behalf of one of them? + +"You are going to rejoin him, then, madame?" said Calabressa. + +"Not at all," she said, laughing. "I have my own affairs." + +After some time, she said, with quite a humorous smile, + +"My dear sir, I hope I do not keep you from sleeping. But you are +puzzled about me; you think you have seen me before, but cannot tell +where." + +"There you are perfectly right, madame." + +"Think of the day before yesterday. You were crossing in the steamer. +You were so good as to suggest to a lady on board that nearer the centre +vessel would be safer for her--" + +He stared at her again. Could this be the same lady who, on the day that +he crossed, was seated right at the stern of the steamer her brown hair +flying about with the wind, her white teeth flashing as she laughed and +joked with the sailors, her eyes full of life and merriment as she +pitched up and down? Calabressa, before the paroxysms of his woe +overtook him, had had the bravery to go and remonstrate with this young +lady, and to tell her she would be more comfortable nearer the middle of +the boat; but she had laughingly told him she was a sailor's daughter, +and was not afraid of the sea. Well, this handsome young lady opposite +certainly laughed like that other, but still-- + +"Oh," she said, "do I puzzle you with such a simple thing? My hair was +brown the day before yesterday, it is black to-day; is that a sufficient +disguise? _Pardieu_, when I went to a music-hall in London that same +night to see some stupid nonsense--bah! such stupid nonsense I have +never seen in the world--I went dressed as a man. Only for exercise, you +perceive: one does not need disguises in London." + +Calabressa was becoming more and more mystified, and she saw it, and her +amusement increased. + +"Come, my friend," she said, "you cannot deny that you also are +political?" + +"I, madame?" said Calabressa, with great innocence. + +"Oh yes. And you are not on the side of the big battalions, eh?" + +"I declare to you, madame--" + +She glanced at Reitzei. + +"Your friend sleeps sound. Come, shall I tell you something? You did not +say a word, for example, when you stepped on shore, to a gentleman in a +big cloak who had a lantern--" + +"Madame, I beg of you!" he exclaimed, in a low voice, also glancing at +Reitzei. + +"What!" she said, laughing. "Then you have the honor of the acquaintance +of my old friend Biard? The rogue, to take a post like that! Oh, I think +my husband could speak more frankly with you; I can only guess." + +"You are somewhat indiscreet, madame," said Calabressa, coldly. + +"I indiscreet?" she said, flickering off the ash of her cigarette +with a finger of the small gloved hand. Then she said, with mock +seriousness, "How can one be indiscreet with a friend of the good man +Biard? Come, I will give you a lesson in sincerity. My husband is gone +to fight a duel, I told you; yes, but his enemy is a St. Petersburg +general who belonged to the Third Section. They should not let Russians +play at Monte Carlo; it is so easy to pick a quarrel with them. And now +about myself; you want to know what I am--what I am about. Ah, I +perceive it, monsieur. Well, this time, on the other hand, I shall be +discreet. But if you hear of something within a few weeks--if the whole +of the world begins to chatter about it--and you say, 'Well, that woman +had pluck'--then you can think of our little conversation during the +night. We must be getting near Amiens, is it not so?" + +She took from her traveling-bag a small apparatus for showering +eau-de-cologne in spray, and with this sprinkled her forehead; afterward +removing the drops with a soft sponge, and smoothing her rebellious +black hair. Then she took out a tiny flask and cup of silver. + +"Permit me, monsieur, to give you a little cognac, after so many +cigarettes. I fear you have only been smoking to keep me company--" + +"A thousand thanks, madame!" said Calabressa, who certainly did not +refuse. She took none herself; indeed, she had just time to put her +bags in order again when the train slowed into Amiens station; and she, +bidding her bewildered and bewitched companion a most courteous +farewell, got out and departed. + +Calabressa himself soon fell asleep, and did not wake until they were +near Paris. By this time the bundle of rugs in the corner had begun to +show signs of animation. + +"Well, friend Reitzei you have had a good sleep," said Calabressa, +yawning, and stretching his arms. + +"I have slept a little." + +"You have slept all night--what more? What do you know, for example, of +the young lady who was in the carriage?" + +"I saw her come in," Reitzei said, indifferently, "and I heard you +talking once or twice. What was she?" + +"There you ask me a pretty question. My belief is that she was either +one of those Nihilist madwomen, or else the devil himself in a new +shape. At any rate, she had some good cognac." + +"I should like some coffee now, Signor Calabressa; and you?" + +"I would not refuse it." + +Indeed, during all this journey to Naples, Calabressa and his companion +talked much more of the commonplace incidents and wants of travel than +of the graver matters that lay before them. Calabressa was especially +resolute in doing so. He did not like to look ahead. He kept reminding +himself that he was simply the agent of the Council; he was carrying out +their behests; the consequences were for others to deal with. He had +fulfilled his commission; he had procured sufficient proof of the +suspected conspiracy; if evil-doers were to be punished, was he +responsible? _Fiat justitia!_ he kept repeating to himself. He was +answerable to the Council alone. He had done his duty. + +But from time to time--and especially when they were travelling at +night, and he was awake--a haunting dread possessed him. How should he +appear before these two women in Naples? His old friend Natalie +Berezolyi had been grievously wronged; she had suffered through long +years; but a wife forgets much when her husband is about to die. And a +daughter? Lind had been an affectionate father enough to this girl; +these two had been companions all her lifetime; recent incidents would +surely be forgotten in her terror over the fact that it was her own +appeal to the Council that had wrought her father's death. And then he, +Calabressa, what could he say? It was through him she had invoked these +unknown powers; it was his counsel that had taken her to Naples; and he +was the immediate instrument that would produce this tragic end. + +He would not think of it. At the various places where they stopped he +worried about food and drink, and angrily haggled about hotel-bills: he +read innumerable stupid little newspapers from morning till night; he +smoked Reitzei nearly blind. At last they reached Naples. + +Within an hour after their arrival Calabressa, alone, was in Tommaso's +wine-vaults talking to the ghoul-like occupant. A bell rung, faint and +muffled, in the distance; he passed to the back of the vaults, and lit a +candle that Tommaso handed him; then he followed what seemed, from the +rumble overhead, some kind of subterranean corridor. But at the end of +this long sub-way he began to ascend; then he reached some steps; +finally, he was on an ordinary staircase, with daylight around him, and +above him a landing with two doors, both shut. + +Opening one of these doors, after having knocked thrice, he entered a +large, bare chamber which was occupied by three men, all seated at a +table which was covered with papers. One of them, Von Zoesch, rose. + +"That is good; that is very well settled," he said to the other two. "It +is a good piece of work. Now here is this English business, and the +report of our wily friend, Calabressa. What is it, Calabressa? We had +your telegram; we have sent for Lind and Beratinsky; what more?" + +"Excellency, I have fulfilled your commission, I hope with judgment," +Calabressa said, his cap in his hand. "I believe it is clear that the +Englishman had that duty put upon him by fraudulent means." + +"It is a pity if it be so; it will cost us some further trouble, and we +have other things to think about at present." Then he added, lightly, +"but it will please your young lady friend, Calabressa. Well?" + +"Excellency, you forget it may not quite so well please her if it is +found that her father was in the conspiracy," said Calabressa, +submissively. + +"Why not?" answered the bluff, tall soldier. "However, to the point, +Calabressa. What have you discovered? and your proofs." + +"I have none, your Excellency; but I have brought with me one of the +four in the ballot who is willing to confess. Why is he willing to +confess?" said Calabressa, with a little triumphant smile; "because he +thinks the gentlemen of the Council know already." + +"And you have frightened the poor devil, no doubt," said Von Zoesch, +laughing. + +"I have on the contrary, assured him of pardon," said Calabressa, +gravely. It is within the powers you gave me, Excellency. I have pledged +my honor--" + +"Oh yes, yes; very well. But do you mean to tell us, my good +Calabressa," said this tall man, speaking more seriously, "that you have +proof of these three--Lind, Beratinsky, Reitzei--having combined to +impose on the Englishman? Not Lind, surely? Perhaps the other two--" + +"Your Excellency, it is for you to investigate further and determine. I +will tell you how I proceeded. I went to the Englishman, and got minute +particulars of what occurred. I formed my own little story, my guess, my +theory. I got hold of Reitzei, and hinted that it was all known. On my +faith, he never thought of denying anything, he was so frightened! But +regard this, Excellency; I know nothing. I can give you the Englishman's +account; then, if you get that of Reitzei, and the two correspond, it is +a good proof that Reitzei is not lying in his confession. It is for you +to examine him, Excellency."' + +"No, it is not for me," the ruddy-faced soldier-looking man said, and +then he turned to his two companions. The one was the Secretary +Granaglia: the other was a broad-shouldered, elderly man, with +strikingly handsome features of the modern Greek type, a pallid, +wax-like complexion, and thoughtful, impenetrable eyes. "Brother +Conventzi, I withdraw from this affair. I leave it in hands of the +Council; one of the accused was in former days my friend; it is not +right that I should interfere." + +"And I also, Excellency," said Calabressa, eagerly. "I have fulfilled my +commission; may not I retire now also?" + +"Brother Granaglia will take down your report in writing; then you are +free, my Calabressa. But you will take the summons of the Council to +your friend Reitzei; I suppose he will have to be examined before the +others arrive." + +And so it came about that neither the General von Zoesch nor Calabressa +was present when the trial, if trial it could be called, took place. +There were no formalities. In this same big bare room seven members of +the Council sat at the table, Brother Conventz presiding, the Secretary +Granaglia at the foot, with writing-materials before him. Ferdinand Lind +and Beratinsky stood between them and the side-wall apparently +impassive. Reitzei was nearer the window, pallid, uneasy, his eyes +wandering about the room, but avoiding the place where his former +colleagues stood. + +The President briefly stated the accusation against them, and read +Reitzei's account of his share in what had taken place. He asked if they +had anything to deny or to explain. + +Beratinsky was the first to speak. + +"Illustrious Brethren of the Council," he began, as if with some set +speech; but his color suddenly forsook him, and he halted and looked +helplessly round. Then he said, wildly, "I declare that I am innocent--I +say that I am innocent! I never should have thought of it, gentlemen. It +was Lind's suggestion; he wished to get rid of the man; I declare I had +nothing to gain. Gentlemen, judge for yourselves: what had I to gain?" + +He looked from one to the other; the grave faces were mostly regarding +Granaglia, who was slowly and carefully putting the words down. + +Then Lind spoke, clearly and coldly: + +"I have nothing to deny. What I did was done in the interests of the +Society. My reward for my long services is that I am haled here like a +pickpocket. It is the second time; it will be the last. I have done, +now, with the labor of my life. You can reap the fruits of it. Do with +me what you please." + +The President rose. + +"The gentlemen may now retire; the decision of the Council will be +communicated to them hereafter." + +A bell rung; Tommaso appeared; Lind and Beratinsky were conducted down +the stairs and through the dark corridor. In a few seconds Tommaso +returned, and performed a like office for Reitzei. + +The deliberation of the Council were but of short duration. The guilt of +the accused was clear; and clear and positive was the penalty prescribed +by the articles of the Society. But, in consideration of the fact that +Beratinsky had been led into this affair by Lind, it was resolved to +offer him the alternative of his taking over the service from which +Brand was released. This afforded but a poor chance of escape, but +Beratinsky was in a desperate position. That same evening he accepted; +and the Secretary Granaglia was forthwith ordered to report the result +of these proceedings to England, and give certain instructions as to the +further conduct of business there. + +The Secretary Granaglia performed this task with his usual equanimity. +He was merely a machine registering the decrees of the Council; it was +no affair of his to be concerned about the fate of Ferdinand Lind; he +had even forgotten the existence of the two women who had been patiently +waiting day after day at that hotel, alternately hoping and fearing to +learn what had occurred. + + + + +CHAPTER LIV. + +PUT TO THE PROOF. + + +It was not at all likely that, at such a crisis, George Brand should pay +much attention to the man Kirski, who was now ushered into the room. He +left Edwards to deal with him. In any case he could not have understood +a word they were saying, except through the interpretation of Edwards, +and that was a tedious process. He had other things to think of. + +Edwards was in a somewhat nervous and excited condition after hearing +this strange news, and he grew both impatient and angry when he saw that +Kirski was again half dazed with drink. + +"Yes, I thought so!" he exclaimed, looking as fierce as the mild +student-face permitted. "This is why you are not at the shop when I +called to-day. What do you mean by it? What has become of your +promises?" + +"Little father, I have great trouble," said the man, humbly. + +"You! You in trouble!" said Edwards, angrily. "You do not know what +trouble is. You have everything in the world you could wish for. You +have good friends, as much employment as you can want, fair wages, and a +comfortable home. If your wife ran away from you, isn't it a good +riddance? And then, instead of setting about your work like a good +citizen, you think of nothing but murdering a man who is as far away +from you as the man in the moon, and then you take to drinking, and +become a nuisance to every one." + +"Little father, I have many troubles, and I wish to forget." + +"Your troubles!" said Edwards, though his anger was a little bit +assumed: he wished to frighten the man into better ways. "What are your +troubles? Think of that beautiful lady you are always talking about, who +interested herself in you--the bigger fool she!--think of her trouble +when she knows that her father is to die; and for what? Because he was +not obedient to the laws of the Society. And he is punished with death; +and you, have you been obedient? What has become of your promises to +me?" + +The man before him seemed at this moment to arouse himself. He answered +nothing to the reproaches hurled at him; but said, with a glance of +eager interest in the sunken eyes, + +"Is she in great trouble, little father?" + +This gleam of intelligence rather startled Edwards. He had been merely +scolding a half-drunken poor devil, and had been incautious as to what +he said. He continued, with greater discretion, + +"Would she have her troubles made any the less if she knew how you were +behaving? She was interested in you; many a time she asked about you--" + +"Yes, yes," the man said, slowly; and he was twisting about the cap that +he held in his hand. + +"And she gave you her portrait. Well, I am glad you knew you were not +fit to retain such a gift. A young lady like that does not give her +portrait to be taken into public-houses--" + +"No more--do not say any more, little father," Kirski said, though in +the same humble way. "It is useless." + +"Useless?" + +"I will not go back to any public-house--never." + +"So you said to me four days ago," Edwards answered. + +"This time it is true," he said, though he did not lift his bleared +eyes. "To-morrow I will take back the portrait, little father; it shall +remain with me, in my room. I do not go back to any public-house, I +shall be no more trouble." Then he said, timidly raising his eyes, "Does +she weep--that beautiful one?" + +"Yes, no doubt," said Edwards, hastily, and in some confusion. "Is it +not natural? But you must not say a word about it; it is a secret. Think +of it, and what one has to suffer in this world, and then ask yourself +if you will add to the trouble of one who has been so kind to you. Now +do I understand you aright? Is it a definite promise this time?" + +"This time, yes, little father. You will have no more need to complain +of me, I will not add to any one's trouble. To-morrow--no, to-night I +take back the portrait; it is sacred; I will not add to any one's +trouble." + +There was something strange about the man's manner, but Edwards put it +down to the effects of drink, and was chiefly concerned in impressing +on the dazed intelligence before him the responsibility of the promises +he had given. + +"To-morrow, then, at nine you are at the shop." + +"Assuredly, if you wish it, little father." + +"Remember, it is the last chance your master will give you. He is very +kind to give you this chance. To-morrow you begin a new course of +conduct; and when the young lady comes back I will tell her of it." + +"I will not add to her troubles, little father; you may be sure of it +this time." + +When he had gone, Brand turned to his companion. He still held that +letter in his hands. His face, that had grown somewhat haggard of late, +was even paler than usual. + +"I suppose I ought to feel very glad, Edwards," he said. "This is a +reprieve, don't you see, so far as I am concerned. And yet I can't +realize it; I don't seem to care about it; all the bitterness was +over--" + +"You are too bewildered yet, Brand--no wonder." + +"If only the girl and her mother were over here!" he said; and then he +added, with a quick instinct of fear, "What will she say to me? When she +appealed to the Council, surely she could not have imagined that the +result would be her father's death. But now that she finds it so--when +she finds that, in order to rescue me, she has sacrificed him--" + +He could not complete the sentence. + +"But he has richly deserved it," said Edwards. + +"That is not what she will look to," he said. "Edwards," he added, +presently, "I am going home now. This place stifles me. I hate the look +of it. That table is where they played their little sleight-of-hand +business; and oh! the bravery of the one and the indifference of the +other, and Lind's solemn exposition of duty and obedience, and all the +rest of it! Well, what will be the result when this pretty story becomes +known? Rascality among the very foremost officers of the Society! what +are all those people who have recently joined us, who are thinking of +joining us, likely to say? Are these your high-priests? Are these the +apostles of self-sacrifice, and all the virtues?" + +"It is bad enough, but not irreparable," said Edwards, calmly. "If a +member here or there falls out, the association remains; if one of its +high officers betrays his trust, you see how swift and terrible the +punishment is." + +"I do not," said Brand. "I see that the paper decree is swift enough, +but what about the execution of it? Have the Council a body of +executioners?" + +"I don't know about that," said Edwards, simply; "but I know that when +I was in Naples with Calabressa, I heard of the fate of several against +whom decrees had been pronounced; and I know that in every instance they +anticipated their own fate; the horror of being continually on the watch +was too much for them. You may depend on it, that is what Lind will do. +He is a proud man. He will not go slinking about, afraid at every +street-corner of the knife of the Little Chaffinch, or some other of +those Camorra fellows--" + +"Edwards," said Brand, hastily, "there is a taint of blood--of +treachery--about this whole affair that sickens me. It terrifies me when +I think of what lies ahead. I--I think I have already tasted death, and +the taste is still bitter in the mouth. I must get into the fresh air." + +Edwards got his coat and hat, and followed. He saw that his companion +was strangely excited. + +"If all this work--if all we have been looking forward to--were to turn +out to be a delusion," Brand said, hurriedly, when they had got into the +dark clear night outside, "that would be worse than the suicide of +Ferdinand Lind or the disappearance of Beratinsky. If this is to be the +end--if these are our companions--" + +"But how can you suggest such a thing?" Edwards protested. "Your +imagination is filled with blackness, Brand. You are disturbed, shocked, +afraid. Why, who are your colleagues? What do you think of--" Here he +mentioned a whole string of names, some of them those of well-known +Englishmen. "Do you accuse them of treachery? Have you not perfect +confidence in them? Have they not perfect confidence in the work we are +all pledged to?" + +But he could not shake off this horrible feeling. He wished to be alone, +to fight with it; he did not even think of going to Lord Evelyn; perhaps +it was now too late. Shortly afterward he bade Edwards good-night, and +made his way to his rooms at the foot of Buckingham Street. + +Waters had left the lights low; he did not turn them up. Outside lay the +black night-world of London, hushed and silent, with its thousand golden +points of fire. He was glad to be alone. + +And yet an unknown feeling of dread was upon him. It seemed as if now +for the first time he realized what a terrible destiny had nearly been +his; and that his escape, so far from rendering him joyful, had left him +still trembling and horrified. Hitherto his pride had conquered. Even as +he had undertaking that duty, it was his pride that had kept him +outwardly calm and indifferent. He would not show fear, he would not +even show repugnance, before these men. And it was pride, too, that had +taught him at length and successfully to crush down certain vague +rebellions of conscience. He would not go back from his oath. He would +not go back from the promise to which Natalie's ring bound him. He would +go through with this thing, and bid farewell to life; further than that +no one could have demands on him. + +But the sudden release from this dire pressure of will left his nerves +somewhat unstrung. For the mere sake of companionship he would like to +have taken Natalie's hand, to have heard her voice: that would have +assured him, and given him courage. He knew not what dangers encompassed +her, what agony she might not be suffering. And the night did not answer +these sudden, wavering, confused questionings; the darkness outside was +as silent as the grave. + +Then a deeper gloom, almost touching despair, fell upon him. He saw in +all those companions of his only so many dupes; the great hope of his +life left him, the future became blank. He began to persuade himself +that he had only toyed with that new-found faith; that it was the +desperation of _ennui_, not a true hope, that had drawn him into this +work; that henceforth he would have no right to call upon others to join +in a vain undertaking. If such things as had just occurred were possible +in this organization, with all its lofty aims and professions--if there +was to be a background of assassination and conspiracy--why, this dream +must go as others had done. Then what remained to him in life? He almost +wished he had been allowed to go forward to this climax unknowing; to +have gone with his heart still filled with faith; to be assured until +the last moment that Natalie would remember how he had fulfilled his +promise to her. + +It was a dark night for him, within and without. But as he sat there at +the window, or walked up and down, wrestling with these demons of doubt +and despair, a dull blue light gradually filled the sky outside; the +orange stars on the bridges grew less intense; the broad river became +visible in the dusk. Then by-and-by the dull blue cleared into a pale +steel-gray, and the forms of the boats could be made out, anchored in +the stream there: these were the first indications of the coming dawn. + +Somehow or other he ceased these restless pacings of his, and was +attracted to the window, though he gazed but absently on the slow change +taking place outside--the world-old wonder of the new day rising in the +east. Up into that steely-gray glides a soft and luminous +saffron-brown; it spreads and widens; against it the far dome of St. +Paul's becomes a beautiful velvet-purple. A planet, that had been golden +when it was in the dusk near the horizon, has now sailed up into the +higher heaven, and shines a clear silver point. And now, listen! the +hushed and muffled sounds in the silence; the great city is awakening +from its sleep--there is the bark of a dog--the rumble of a cart is +heard. And still that saffron glow spreads and kindles in the east, and +the dome of St. Paul's is richer in hue than ever; the river between the +black-gray bridges, shines now with a cold light, and the gas-lamps have +grown pale. And then the final flood of glory wells up in the eastern +skies, and all around him the higher buildings catch here and there a +swift golden gleam: the sunrise is declared; there is a new day born for +the sons and daughters of men. + +The night had fled, and with it the hideous phantoms of the night. It +seemed to him that he had escaped from the grave, and that he was only +now shaking off the horror of it. Look at the beautiful, clear colors +without; listen to the hum of the city awakening to all its cheerful +activities; the new day has brought with it new desires, new hopes. He +threw open the windows. The morning air was cold and sweet--the sparrows +were beginning to chirp in the garden-plots below. Surely that black +night was over and gone. + +If only he could see Natalie for one moment, to assure her that he had +succumbed but once, and for the last time, to despair. It was a +confession he was bound to make; it would not lessen her trust in him. +For now all through his soul a sweet, clear voice was ringing: it was +the song the sunrise had brought him; it was the voice of Natalie +herself, with all its proud pathos and fervor, as he had heard it in the +olden days: + + "A little time we gain from time + To set our seasons in some chime, + For harsh or sweet, or loud or low, + With seasons played out long ago-- + And souls that in their time and prime + Took part with summer or with snow, + Lived abject lives out or sublime, + And had there chance of seed to sow + For service or disservice done + To those days dead and this their son. + + "A little time that we may fill + Or with such good works or such ill + As loose the bonds or make them strong, + Wherein all manhood suffers wrong. + By rose-hung river and light-foot rill + There are who rest not; who think long + Till they discern, as from a hill, + At the sun's hour of morning song, + Known of souls only, and those souls free, + The sacred spaces of the sea." + +Surely it was still for him and her together to stand on some such +height, hand-in-hand, and watch the sunrise come over the sea and +awakening world. They would forget the phantoms of the night, and the +traitors gone down to Erubus; perhaps, for this new life together, they +might seek a new clime. There was work for them still; and faith, and +hope, and the constant assurance of love: the future might perchance be +all the more beautiful because of these dark perils of the past. + +As he lay thus communing with himself, the light shining in on his +haggard face, Waters came into the room, and was greatly concerned to +find that not only had his master not been to bed, but that the supper +left out for him the night before had not been touched. Brand rose, +without betraying any impatience over his attendant's pertinacious +inquiries and remonstrances. He went and got writing materials, and +wrote as follows: + +"Dear Evelyn,--If you could go over to Naples for me--at once--I would +take it as a great favor. I cannot go myself. Whether or not, come to +see me at Lisle Street to-day, by twelve. + + "Yours, G.B." + +"Take this to Lord Evelyn, Waters; and if he is up get an answer." + +"But your breakfast, sir. God bless me--" + +"Never mind breakfast. I am going to lie down for an hour or two now: I +have had some business to think over. Let me have some breakfast about +eleven--when I ring." + +"Very well, sir." + +That was his phrase--he had had some business to think over. But it +seemed to him, as he went into the adjacent room, that that night he had +passed through worse than the bitterness of death. + + + + +CHAPTER LV. + +CONGRATULATIONS. + + +The Secretary Granaglia, the business of the Council being over, carried +the news to Von Zoesch. It was almost dark when he made his way up the +steep little terraces in the garden of the villa at Posilipo. He found +the tall general seated at the entrance to the grotto-like retreat, +smoking a cigar in the dusk. + +"You are late, Granaglia," he said. + +"I had some difficulty in coming here," said the little man with the +sallow face and the tired eyes. "The police are busy, or pretending to +be. The Commendatore tells me that Zaccatelli has been stirring them +up." + +"Zaccatelli!" said Von Zoesch, with a laugh. "It will soon be time now +for Zaccatelli to come down from his perch. Well, now, what is the +result?" + +Granaglia briefly recounted what had occurred: the other manifested no +surprise. + +"So this is the end of the Lind episode," he said, thoughtfully. "It is +a pity that so able a man should be thrown away. He has worked well; I +know of no one who will fill his place; but that must be seen to at +once, Granaglia. How long have they given him?" + +"A month, your Excellency. He wishes to go back to England to put his +affairs in order. He has a firm nerve." + +"He was a good-looking man when he was young," said Von Zoesch, +apparently to himself. Then he added: "This Beratinsky, to whom the +Zaccatelli affair has been transferred--what do you think of him? There +must be no bungling, Granaglia. What do you think of him--is he to be +trusted?" + +"Your Excellency, if I were to give you my own impression, I should say +not in the least. He accepts this service--why? Because he is +otherwise lost for certain, and here is a chance: it is perhaps better +than nothing. But he does not go forward with any conviction of duty: +what is he thinking but of his chance of running away?" + +"And perhaps running away beforehand, for example?" + +"Oh no, your Excellency; at least, that has been provided for. Caprone +and the brother of Caprone will wait upon him until the thing is over; +and what is more, he will receive a hint that these two humble +attendants of his are keeping an eye on him." + +"Caprone dare not go to Rome." + +"He is ready to go anywhere. They might as well try to lay hands on a +ghost." + +Von Zoesch rose, and stretched his huge frame, and yawned. + +"So this is the end of the episode Lind," he said, idly. "It is a pity. +But if a man plays a risky game and loses, he must pay. Perhaps the +warning will be wholesome, Granaglia. Our friends must understand that +our laws are not laid down for nothing, and that we are not afraid to +punish offenders, even if these be among ourselves. I suppose there is +nothing further to be done to-night?" + +"I would ask your Excellency to remain here for a little time yet," said +the Secretary. + +"Are they coming so near? We must get Calabressa to procure some of them +a dozen or two on board the schooner. However--" + +He sat down again, and lit another cigar. + +"We must pay Calabressa a compliment, Granaglia; it was well done--very +clever; it has all turned out just as he imagined; it is not the first +time he has done us good service, with all his volubility. Oh yes; the +rascal knows when to hold his tongue. At this moment, for example, he +refuses to open his lips. + +"Pardon, your Excellency; but I do not understand you." + +The general laughed a little, and continued talking--it was one way of +passing the time. + +"It is a good joke enough. The wily old Calabressa saw pretty clearly +what the decision of the Council would be, and so he comes to me and +entreats me to be the bearer of the news to Madame Lind and her +daughter. Oh yes; it is good news, this deliverance of the Englishman; +Madame Lind is an old friend of mine; she and her daughter will be +grateful. But you perceive, Granaglia, that what the cunning old dog was +determined to avoid was the reporting to Madame Lind that her husband +had been sentenced. That was no part of the original programme. And now +Calabressa holds his mouth shut; he keeps out of the way; it is left for +me to go and inform the mother and daughter." + +His voice became more serious. + +"The devil take it, it is no pleasant task at all! One is never sure how +the brain of a woman will work; you start the engine, but it may plunge +back the wrong way and strike you. Calabressa is afraid. The fox is +hiding in some hole until it is all over." + +"Cannot I be of some service, your Excellency?" the Secretary said. + +"No, no; but I thank you, friend Granaglia. It is a delicate matter; it +must be approached with circumspection; and I as an old acquaintance of +Madame Lind, ought not to shirk the duty." + +Apparently, it was not Calabressa only who had some dread of the +difficulties of news-bearer. + +"It is impossible for your Excellency to go near the hotel at present," +said the Secretary, promptly. + +But his chief refused to accept this offered means of escape. + +"That is true, but it is not a difficulty. To-night, friend Granaglia, +you will send a message to the hotel, bidding them be at the Villa +Odelschalchi to-morrow morning at eleven--you understand?" + +"Certainly, your Excellency." + +"Then I will meet them, and take the risk. Everything must be settled +off at once: we have wasted too much time over this affair, Granaglia. +When does the Genoa Council meet?" + +"On the Seventh." + +"To-morrow you must issue the summonses. Come, Granaglia, let us be +stirring; it is cold. Where does Brother Conventz sleep to-night?" + +"On board the schooner, your Excellency." + +"I also. To-morrow, at eleven, you will be at Portici; to-night you will +send the message to the ladies at the hotel; and also, if you can, find +out where that rogue Calabressa is hiding." + +That was the last of their talking. There was some locking up inside; +then they passed down through the dark garden and out into the road. +There was no one visible. They walked on in silence. + +Punctually at eleven the next morning Natalie and her mother appeared at +the iron gates of the Villa Odelschalchi and rang the bell. The porter +appeared, admitted them, and then turned to the great white staircase, +which Granaglia was at that moment seen to be descending. + +"Will the ladies have the goodness to step into the garden?" said the +Secretary, with grave courtesy. "General von Zoesch will be with them +directly." + +He accompanied them as far as the top of the terrace, and then bowed and +withdrew. + +If Natalie Lind was agitated now, it was not with fear. There was a +fresh animation of color in her cheek; her eyes were brilliant and +excited; she spoke in low, eager whispers. + +"Oh, I know what he is coming to tell us, mother--you need not be +afraid: I shall see it in his face before he comes near--I think I shall +be able to hear it in the sound of his steps. Have courage, mother! why +do you tremble so? Remember what Calabressa said. They are so powerful +they can do everything; and you and the General von Zoesch old friends, +too. Look at this, mother: do you see what I have brought with me?" + +She opened her purse--her fingers were certainly a little nervous--and +showed her mother a folded-up telegraph form. + +"I am going to telegraph to him, mother: surely it is from me he should +hear the news first. And then he might come here, mother, to go back +with us: you will rest a few days after so much anxiety." + +"I hope, my darling, it will all turn out well," said the mother, +turning quickly as she heard footsteps. + +The next second Von Zoesch appeared, his face red with embarrassment; +but still Natalie with her first swift glance saw that his eyes were +smiling and friendly, and her heart leaped up with a bound. + +"My dear young lady," said he, taking her hand, "forgive me for making +such a peremptory appointment--" + +"But you bring good news'?" she said, breathlessly. "Oh, sir, I can see +that you have succeeded--yes, yes--the danger is removed--you have saved +him!" + +"My dear young lady," said he smiling, but still greatly embarrassed, +"it is my good fortune to be able to congratulate you. Ah, I thought +that would bring some brightness to your eyes--" + +She raised his hand, and kissed it twice passionately. + +"Mother," she said, in a wild, joyful way, "will you not thank him for +me? I do not know what I am saying--and then--" + +The general had turned to her mother. Natalie quickly took out the +telegraph-form, unfolded it, knelt down and put it on the garden-seat, +and with trembling fingers wrote her message: "_You are saved! Come to +us at once; my mother and I wait here for you;_" that was the substance +of it. Then she rose, and for a second or two stood irresolute, silent, +and shamefaced. Happily no one had noticed her. These two had gone +forward, and were talking together in a low voice. She did not join +them; she could not have spoken then, her heart was throbbing so +violently with its newly-found joy. + +"Stefan," said the mother--and there was a pleasant light in her sad +eyes too--"I shall never forget the gratitude we owe you. I have nothing +else to regard now but my child's happiness. You have saved her life to +her." + +"Yes, yes," he said, in stammering haste, "I am glad the child is happy. +It would be a pity, at her time of life, and such a beautiful, brave +young lady--yes, it would be a pity if she were to suffer: I am very +glad. But there is another side to the question, Natalie; it refers to +you. I have not such good news for you--that is, it depends on how you +take it; but it is not good news--it will trouble you--only, it was +inevitable--" + +"What do you mean?" she said, calmly. + +"Your husband," he said, regarding her somewhat anxiously. + +"Yes," she said, without betraying any emotion. + +"Well, you understand, we had not the power to release your English +friend unless there had been injustice--or worse--in his being +appointed. There was. More than that, it was very nearly a repetition of +the old story. Your husband was again implicated." + +She merely looked at him, waiting for him to continue. + +"And the Council," he said, more embarrassed than ever, "had to try him +for his complicity. He was tried and--condemned." + +"To what?" she said, quite calmly. + +"You must know, Natalie. He loses his life!" + +She turned very pale. + +"It was not so before," she managed to say, though her breath came and +went quickly. + +"It was; but then he was pardoned. This time there is no hope." + +She stood silent for a second or two; then she said, regarding him with +a sad look, + +"You think me heartless, Stefan. You think I ought to be overwhelmed +with grief. But--but I have been kept from my child for seventeen years. +I have lived with the threat of the betrayal of my father hanging over +me. The affection of a wife cannot endure everything. Still, I +am--sorry--" + +Her eyes were cast down, and they slowly filled with tears. Von Zoesch +breathed more freely. He was eagerly explaining to her how this result +had become inevitable--how he himself had had no participation in it, +and so forth--when Natalie Lind stepped quickly up to them, looking from +the one to the other. She saw something was wrong. + +"Mother, what is it?" she said, in vague fear. She turned to Von Zoesch. +"Oh, sir, if there is something you have not told me--if there is +trouble--why was it not to me that you spoke?" + +She took hold of her mother's hand. + +"Mother, what is it?" + +"My dear young lady," said Von Zoesch, interposing, "you know that life +is made up of both bitter and sweet--" + +"I wish to know, signore," she said, proudly, "what it is you have told +my mother. If there is trouble, it is for her daughter to share it." + +"Well, then, dear young lady, I will tell you," he said, "though it will +grieve you also. I must explain to you. You cannot suppose that the +happy news I deliver to you was the result of the will of any one man, +or number of men. No. It was the result of the application of law and +justice. Your--sweetheart, shall I call him?--was intrusted with a grave +duty, which would most probably have cost him his life. In the ordinary +way, no one could have released him from it, however much certain +friends of yours here might have been interested in you, and grieved to +see you unhappy. But there was this possibility--it was even a +probability--that he had been selected for this service unfairly. Then, +no doubt, if that could be proved, he ought to be released." + +"Yes, yes," she said, impatiently. + +"That was proved. Unfortunately, I have to tell you that among those +convicted of this conspiracy was your father. Well, the laws of our +association are strict--they are even terrible where a delinquent is in +a position of high responsibility. My dear young lady, I must tell you +the truth: your father has been adjudged guilty--and--and the punishment +is--death!" + +She uttered a quick, short cry of alarm, and turned with frightened eyes +to her mother. + +"Mother, is it true? is it true?" + +The mother did not answer; she had clasped her trembling hands. Then the +girl turned; there was a proud passion in her voice. + +"Oh, sir, what tiger is there among you that is so athirst for blood? +You save one man's life--after intercession and prayer you save one +man's life--only to seize on that of another. And it is to me--it is to +me, his daughter--that you come with congratulations! I am only a child; +I am to be pleased: you speak of a sweetheart; but you do not tell me +that you are about to murder my father! You give me my lover; in +exchange you take my father's life. Is there a woman in all the world +so despicable as to accept her happiness at such a cost?" + +Involuntarily she crushed up the telegram she held in her hand and threw +it away from her. + +"It is not I, at all events," she exclaimed. "Oh, signore, you should +not have mocked me with your congratulations. That is not the happiness +you should offer to a daughter. But you have not killed him yet--there +is time; let things be as they were; that is what my sweetheart, as you +call him, will say; he and I are not afraid to suffer. Surely, rather +that, than that he should marry a girl so heartless and cowardly as to +purchase her happiness at the cost of her father's life?" + +"My dear young lady," he said, with a great pity and concern in his +face, "I can assure you what you think of is impossible. What is done +cannot be undone." + +Her proud indignation now gave way to terror. + +"Oh no, signore, you cannot mean that! I cannot believe it! You have +saved one man--oh, signore, for the love of Heaven, this other also! +Have pity! How can I live, if I know that I have killed my father?" + +He took both her hands in his, and strove to soothe down her wild terror +and dismay. He declared to her she had nothing to do with it, no more +than himself; that her father had been tried by his colleagues; that if +he had not been, a fearful act of treachery would have been committed. +She listened, or appeared to listen; but her lips were pale; her eyes +had a strange look in them; she was breathless. + +"Calabressa said they were all-powerful," she interrupted suddenly. "But +are they all-powerful to slay only? Oh no, I cannot believe it! I will +go to them; it cannot be too late; I will say to them that I would +rather have died than appealed to them if I had known that this was to +be the terrible result. And Calabressa--why did he not warn me? Or is he +one of the blood-thirsty ones also--one of the tigers that crouch in the +dark? Oh, signore, if they are all-powerful, they are all-powerful to +pardon. May I not go to themselves?" + +"It would be useless, my dear signorina," said Von Zoesch, with deep +compassion in his voice. "I am sorry to grieve you, but justice has been +done, and the decision is past recall. And do not blame poor old +Calabressa--" + +At this moment the bell of the outer gate rang, echoing through the +empty house, and he started somewhat. + +"Come, child," said her mother. "We have taken up too much of your time, +Stefan. I wish there had been no drawback to your good news." + +"At the present moment," he said, glancing somewhat anxiously toward +the building, "I cannot ask you to stay, Natalie; but on some other +occasion, and as soon as you please, I will give you any information you +may wish. Remember, you have good friends here." + +Natalie suffered herself to be led away. She seemed too horror-stricken +to be able to speak. Von Zoesch accompanied them only to the terrace, +and there bade them good-bye. Granaglia was waiting to show them to the +gate. A few moments afterward they were in their carriage, returning to +Naples. + +They sat silent for some time, the mother regarding her daughter +anxiously. + +"Natalushka, what are you thinking of?" + +The girl started: her eyes were filled with a haunting fear, as if she +had just seen some terrible thing. And yet she spoke slowly and sadly +and wistfully. + +"I was thinking, mother, that perhaps it was not so hard to be condemned +to die; for then there would come an end to one's suffering. And I was +wondering whether there had been many women in the world who had to +accuse themselves of taking a part in bringing about their own father's +death. Oh, I hope not--I hope not!" + +A second afterward she added, with more than the bitterness of tears in +her trembling voice, "And--and I was thinking of General von Zoesch's +congratulations, mother." + + + + +CHAPTER LVI. + +A COMMISSION. + + +Lord Evelyn obeyed his friend's summons in considerable anxiety, if not +even alarm; for he made no doubt that it had some connection with that +mysterious undertaking to which Brand was pledged; but when he reached +Lisle Street, and was shown into the larger room, no very serious +business seemed going forward. Two or three of the best-known to him +among the English members of the Society were present, grouped round a +certain Irish M.P., who, with twinkling eyes but otherwise grave face, +was describing the makeshifts of some provincial manager or other who +could not pay his company their weekly salary. To the further surprise +of the new-comer, also, Mr. Lind was absent; his chair was occupied by +Gathorne Edwards. + +He was asked to go into an inner room; and there he found Brand, looking +much more like himself than he had done for some time back. + +"It is awfully kind of you, Evelyn, to come at once. I heard you had +returned to town yesterday. Well, what of the old people down in +Wiltshire?" + +Lord Evelyn was quite thrown off his guard by this frank cheerfulness. +He forgot the uneasy forebodings with which he had left his house. + +"Oh, capital old people!" he said, putting his hat and umbrella on the +table--"excellent. But you see, Brand, it becomes a serious question if +I have to bury myself in the country, and drink port-wine after dinner, +and listen to full-blown, full-fed glorious old Tories, every time a +sister of mine gets engaged to be married. And now that Rosalys has +begun it, they'll all take to it, one after the other, like sheep +jumping a ditch." + +"They say Milbanke is a very nice young fellow," said Brand. + +"Petted, a little. But then, an only son, and heaps of money: perhaps +its natural. I know he is a ghastly hypocrite," added Lord Evelyn, who +seemed to have some little grudge against his brother-in-law in +prospect. "It was too bad of him to go egging on those old megatheria to +talk politics until they were red in the face, denouncing Free-trade, +and abusing the Ballot, and foretelling the ruin of the former as soon +as the Education Act began to work. Then he pretended to be on their +side--" + +"What did you do?" + +"I sat quiet. I was afraid I might be eaten. I relapsed into +contemplation; and began to compose a volume on 'Tory Types: Some +Survivals in English Politics. For the Information of Town Readers.'" + +"Well, now you have done your duty, and cemented the alliance between +the two families--by drinking port-wine, I suppose--what do you say to a +little pleasure-trip?" + +"Oh, is that all?" he said, looking up quickly. "Is that what your note +meant?" + +"The fact is, Evelyn," he said, with a trifle of embarrassment, "Natalie +and her mother are in Naples, and I don't know precisely in what +circumstances. I am a little anxious about them--I should like to know +more of their surroundings: why, for one thing, I don't know whether +they have any money, even. I would go over myself, Evelyn, but the +truth is I cannot--not very well. At least I ought not to go; and I +thought, if you had time--being an old friend of Natalie's--you would +like to see that she was all right. + +"Where is Lind?" said Lord Evelyn, suddenly. + +"Lind is in Italy also," said Brand, evasively. + +"Not with them?" + +"Oh no." + +There was an awkward silence. At length Brand said, + +"Something very serious has happened, Evelyn: and the question is +whether, in the interests of the Society, it should not be kept a +secret, if it is possible." + +"I do not wish to know any secret," Lord Evelyn said, simply. "I am +willing to go over to Naples at once, if I can be of any service." + +"It is very kind of you; I thought you would say as much," Brand said, +still hesitating. "But then I doubt whether you could be of much service +unless you understood the whole situation of affairs. At present only +two over here know what has occurred--Edwards and myself. Yes, I think +you must know also. Read this letter; it came only last night." + +He unlocked a drawer, took out a letter, and gave it to Lord Evelyn, who +read it slowly. When he had finished, he put it on the table without a +word. + +"You understand?" Brand said, calmly. "That means that Lind is to be +punished with death for treachery. Don't think about me; I've had a +narrow escape, but I have escaped--thanks to Natalie's courage and +decision. What I am concerned about is the effect that such a disclosure +might have on the fortunes of the Society. Would it not provoke a +widespread feeling of disgust? Wouldn't there always be a suspicion?" + +"But you yourself, Brand!" Evelyn exclaimed, in amazement. "Why, you--I +thought you would be the first to resign, after such an escape." + +"I have fought all through that, Evelyn," he said, absently. "It was my +first impulse--I confess it. The thought of being associated with such +men sickened me; I despaired; I wished they had never been found out, +and that I had been let blindly go on to the end. Well, I got over the +fit--with a struggle. It was not reasonable, after all. Surely one's +belief in the future of the Society ought to be all the firmer that +these black sheep have been thrust out? As for myself, at all events, I +ought to have more hope, not less. I never did trust Lind, as you know; +I believed in his work, in the usefulness of it, and the prospects of +its success; but I never was at ease in his presence; I was glad to get +away to my own work in the north. And now, with the way clearer, why +should one think of giving up? To tell you the truth, Evelyn, I would +give anything to be in America at the present moment, if only Natalie +and her mother were in safety. There is a chance for us there bigger +than anything Lind ever dreamed about. You know the Granges, the +associations of the 'Patrons of Husbandry,' that were founded by the +Scotchman Saunders? It is an immense social organization; the success of +it has been quite unprecedented; they have an immense power in their +hands. And it isn't only agriculture they deal with; they touch on +politics here and there; they control elections; and the men they choose +are invariably men of integrity. Well, now, don't you see this splendid +instrument ready-made? From what I hear from Philadelphia--" + +Lord Evelyn's thoughts were elsewhere than in Philadelphia. + +"You must tell me about yourself, Brand!" he exclaimed. "Your life is no +longer in danger, then? How has it happened?" + +"Oh," said Brand, somewhat carelessly, "I don't know all the particulars +as yet. What I do know is that Natalie and her mother disappeared from +London; I had no idea whither they had gone. Then Calabressa turned up; +and I heard that Natalie had appealed to the Council. Fancy, she, a +young girl, had had the courage to go and appeal to the Council! Then +Calabressa suspected something, I saw by his questions; then Lind, +Beratinsky, and Reitzei appear to have been summoned to Naples. The +result is in that letter; that is about all I know." + +"And these others in there?" said Lord Evelyn, glancing to the door. + +"They know nothing at all. That is what I am uncertain about: whether to +leave the disappearance of Lind unaccounted for--merely saying he had +been summoned away by the Council--or to let everybody who may hear of +it understand that, powerful as he was, he had to succumb to the laws of +the Society, and accept the penalty for his error. I am quite uncertain; +I have no instructions. You might find out for me in Naples, Evelyn, if +you went over there--you might find out what they consider advisable." + +"You are in Lind's place, then?" + +"Not at all," said he, quickly, and with a slight flush. "Edwards and I +are merely keeping the thing going until matters are settled. Did you +notice whether Molyneux was in the next room when you came through?" + +"Yes he was." + +"Then excuse me for a minute or two. I want to speak to you further +about Naples." + +Brand was gone some time, and Lord Evelyn was left to ponder over these +strange tidings. To him they were very joyful tidings; for ever since +that communication was made to him of the danger that threatened his +friend's life, he had been haunted by the recollection that, but for +him, Brand would in all probability have never heard of this +association. It was with an infinite sense of personal relief that he +now knew this danger was past. Already he saw himself on his way to +Naples, to find out the noble girl who had taken so bold a step to save +her lover. Not yet had darkness fallen over these two lives. + +Brand returned, carefully shut the door after him, and seated himself on +a corner of the table. + +"You see, Evelyn," he said, quite in his old matter-of-fact way, "I +can't pretend to have very much regret over what has happened to Lind. +He tried to do me an ill turn, and he has got the worst of it; that is +all. On the other hand, I bear him no malice: you don't want to hurt a +man when he is down. I can guess that it isn't the death-penalty that he +is thinking most of now. I can even make some excuse for him, now that I +see the story plain. The temptation was great; always on the +understanding that he was against my marrying his daughter; and that I +had been sure of it for some time. To punish me for not giving up my +property, to keep Natalie to himself, and to get this difficult duty +securely undertaken all at once--it was worth while trying for. But his +way of going about it was shabby. It was a mean trick. Well, there is +nothing more to be said on that point: he has played--played a foul +game--and lost." + +He added, directly afterward, + +"So you think you can go to Naples?" + +"Certainly," said Evelyn, with promptness. "You don't know how glad I am +about this, Brand. If you had come to grief over your relations with +this Society, it would have been like a mill-stone hanging on my +conscience all my life. And I shall be delighted to go to Italy for you. +I should like to see the look on Natalie's face." + +"You will probably find her in great trouble," Brand said, gravely. + +"In trouble?" + +"Naturally. Don't you see, Evelyn, she could not have foreseen that the +result of her appeal would involve the destruction of her father. It is +impossible to believe that she could have foreseen that. I know her; she +would not have stirred hand or foot. And now that this has been +discovered, it is not her father's guilt she will be thinking of; it is +his fate, brought about indirectly by herself. You may be sure, Evelyn, +she will not be overjoyed at the present moment. All the more reason why +one who knows her should be near her. I have no idea what sort of people +are about her; I should be more satisfied if I knew you were there." + +"I am ready to go; I am ready to start this afternoon, as I say," Evelyn +repeated; but then he added, with some hesitation: "But I am not going +to play the part of a hypocrite, Brand. I could not pretend to +sympathize with her, if that is the cause of her trouble; I should tell +her it served her father right." + +"You could not be so brutal if you tried, Evelyn," Brand said; "you +might think so: you could not tell her so. But I have no fear: you will +be discreet enough, and delicate enough, when you see her." + +"And what am I to say from you?" + +"From me?" he said. "Oh, you can say I thank her for having saved my +life. That will be enough, I think; she will understand the rest." + +"I mean, what do you advise her to do? Ought they to return to England?" + +"I think so, certainly. Most likely she will be waiting there, trying to +get the Council to reverse the sentence. Having been successful in the +one case, the poor child may think she ought to succeed in the other. I +fear that is too much to expect. However, if she is anxious, she may +try. I should like to know there was somebody near her she could rely +on--don't you understand, Evelyn?--to see that she is situated and +treated as you would like one of your own sisters to be." + +"I see what it is, Brand," Lord Evelyn said, laughing, "you are jealous +of the foreigners. You think they will be using tooth-picks in her +presence, and that kind of thing." + +"I wish to know that she and her mother are in a good hotel," said +Brand, simply, "with proper rooms, and attendance, and--and a carriage: +women can't go walking through these beastly streets of Naples. The long +and short of it is, Evelyn," he added, with some embarrassment, as he +took out from his pocket-book two blank checks, and sat down at the +table and signed them, "I want you to play the part of big brother to +them, don't you know? And you will have to exercise skill as well as +force. Don't you see, Calabressa is the best of fellows; but he would +think nothing of taking them to stay in some vile restaurant, if the +proprietor were politically inclined--" + +"Yes, yes; I see: garlic; cigarettes during breakfast, right opposite +the ladies; wine-glasses used as finger-glasses: well, you are a +thorough Englishman, Brand!" + +"I suppose, when your sisters go abroad, you see that they are directed +to a proper hotel?" said Brand, somewhat angrily. + +"I know this," said Evelyn, laughing, "that my sisters, and you, and +Calabressa, and myself, all boiled together, wouldn't make half as good +a traveller as Natalie Lind is. Don't you believe she has been led away +into any slummy place, for the sake of politics or anything else. I will +bet she knows the best hotels in Naples as well as you do the Waldegrave +Club." + +"At any rate, you've got to play the big brother, Evelyn; and it is my +affair, of course: I will not allow you to be out of pocket by it. Here +are two checks; you can fill them in over there when you see how matters +stand: ----, at Rome, will cash them." + +"Do you mean to say I have to pay their hotel-bills?" + +"If they have plenty of money, certainly not; but you must find out. You +must take the bull by the horns. It is far more likely that they have so +little money that they may be becoming anxious. Then you must use a firm +hand--I mean with Natalie. Her mother will acquiesce. And you can tell +Natalie that if she would buy something--some dress, or something--for +the mother of old Calabressa, who is still living--at Spezia, I +think--she would make the old chap glad. And that would be a mark of my +gratitude also; you see, I have never had even the chance of thanking +him as yet." + +Lord Evelyn rose. + +"Very well," said he, "I will send you a report of my mission. How am I +to find them?" + +"You must find them through Calabressa," he said, "for I have not got +their address. So you can start this evening?" + +"Yes, certainly." + +"Then I will telegraph at once to Calabressa to let them know you are +coming. Mind you, I am very grateful to you, Evelyn; though I wish I was +going in your stead." + +Lord Evelyn got some further instructions as to how he was to discover +Calabressa on his arrival in Naples; and that evening he began his +journey to the south. He set out, indeed, with a light heart. He knew +that Natalie would be glad to have a message from England. + +At Genoa he had to break the journey for a day, having some commission +to perform on behalf of the Society: this was a parting bequest from +Gathorne Edwards. Then on again; and in due time he entered Naples. + +He scarcely noticed, as he entered the vehicle and drove away to his +hotel, what bare-footed lads outside the station were bawling as they +offered the afternoon papers to the newly-arrived passengers. What +interest had he in Zaccatelli? + +But what the news-venders were calling aloud was this: + +"_The death of the Cardinal Zaccatelli! Death of Zaccatelli! The death +of the Cardinal Zaccatelli!_" + + + + +CHAPTER LVII. + +FAREWELL! + + +"Natalushka," said the tender and anxious mother, laying her hand on the +girl's head, "you must bestir yourself. If you let grief eat into your +heart like that, you will become ill; and what shall we do then, in a +strange hotel? You must bestir yourself; and put away those sad thoughts +of yours. I can only tell you again and again that it was none of your +doing. It was the act of the Council: how could you help it? And how can +you help it now? My old friend Stefan says it is beyond recall. Come, +Natalushka, you must not blame yourself; it is the Council, not you, who +have done this; and no doubt they think they acted justly." + +Natalie did not answer. She sighed slightly. Her eyes were turned toward +the blue waters beyond the Castello dell' Ovo. + +"Child," the mother continued, "we must leave Naples." + +"Leave Naples!" the girl cried, with a sudden look of alarm; "having +done nothing--having tried nothing?" Then she added, in a lower voice, +"Well, yes, mother, I suppose it is true what they say, that one can do +nothing by remaining. Perhaps--perhaps we ought to go; and yet it is +terrible." + +She shivered slightly as she spoke. + +"You see, Natalushka," her mother said, determined to distract her +attention somehow, "this is an expensive hotel; we must be thinking of +what money we have left to take us back. We have been here some time; +and it is a costly journey, all the way to England." + +"Oh, but not to England--not to England, mother!" Natalie exclaimed, +quickly. + +"Why not to England, then?" + +"Anywhere else, mother," the daughter pleaded. If you wish it, we will +go away: no doubt General von Zoesch knows best; there is no hope. We +will go away from Naples, mother; and--and you know I shall not be much +of a tax on you. We will live cheaply somewhere; and perhaps I could +help a little by teaching music, as Madame Potecki does. Whenever you +wish it, I am ready to go." + +"But why not to England?" + +"I cannot tell you, mother." + +She rose quickly, and passed into her own room and shut the door. + +There she stood for a second or two, irresolute and breathless, like one +who had just escaped into a place of refuge. Then her eyes fell on her +writing desk, which was on a side-table, and open. Slowly, and with a +strange, pained expression about her mouth, she went and sat down, and +took out some writing materials, and absently and mechanically arranged +them before her. Her eyes were tearless, but once or twice she sighed +deeply. After a time she began to write with an unsteady hand: + +"My Dearest,--You must let me send you a few lines of farewell; for it +would be hard if, in saying good-bye, one were not permitted to say a +kind word or two that could be remembered afterward. And your heart will +have already told you why it is not for you and me now to look forward +to the happiness that once seemed to lie before us. You know what a +terrible result has followed from my rashness; but then you are +free--that is something; for the rest, perhaps it is less misery to die, +than to live and know that you have caused another's death. You +remember, the night they played _Fidelio_, I told you I should always +try to remain worthy of your love; and how could I keep that promise if +I permitted myself to think of enjoying a happiness that was made +possible at the cost of my father's life? You could not marry a woman so +unnatural, so horrible: a marriage purchased at such a price would be +foredoomed; there would be a guilty consciousness, a life-long remorse. +But why do I speak? Your heart tells you the same thing. There only +remains for us to say good-bye, and to thank God for the gleam of +happiness that shone on us for a little time. + +"And you, my dearest of friends, you will send me also a little message, +that I can treasure as a remembrance of bygone days. And you must tell +me also whether what has occurred has deterred you from going farther, +or whether you still remain hoping for better things in the world, and +resolved to do what you can to bring them about. That would be a great +consolation to me, to know that your life still had a noble object. Then +the world would not be quite blank, either for you or for me; you with +your work, I with this poor, kind mother of mine, who needs all the +affection I can give her. Then I hope to hear of you from time to time; +but my mother and myself do not return to England. + +"And now what am I to say, being so far away from you, that will sound +pleasant to you, and that you will remember after with kindness? I look +back now over the time since I have known you, and it appears a +beautiful dream--anxious sometimes, and troubled, but always with a +golden future before it that almost bewildered the eyes. And what am I +to say of your goodness, so unvarying and constant; and your +thoughtfulness; and your great unselfishness and outspokenness? When was +there the least misunderstanding between us? I could read your heart +like my own. Only once, you remember, was there a chance of a shadow +coming between us--through my own folly; and yet perhaps it was only +natural for a girl, fancying that everything was going to be smooth and +happy in her life, to look back on what she had said in times of +trouble, and to be afraid of having spoken with too little reserve. But +then you refused to have even the slightest lovers' quarrel; you laughed +away my folly. Do you wonder if I was more than ever glad that I had +given my life into your wise and generous guidance? And it is not now, +when I am speaking to you for the last time, that I can regret having +let you know what my feelings were toward you. Oh, my darling! you must +not imagine, because these words that I am writing are cold and formal, +that my heart beats any the less quickly when I think of you and the +days we were together. I said to you that I loved you; I say to you now +that I love you with my whole heart, and I have no feeling of shame. If +you were here, I would look into your face and repeat it--I think +without a blush; I would kiss you; I would tell you that I honor you; +that I had looked forward to giving you all the trust and affection and +devotion of a wife. That is because I have faith in you; my soul is open +and clear to you; read, and if you can find there anything but +admiration for your nobleness of heart, and earnest hopes for your +happiness, and gratitude to you for all your kindness, then, and not +otherwise, shall I have cause for shame. + +"Now I have to send you my last word of good-bye--" + +[She had borne up so far; but now she put the pen aside, and bent her +head down on to her hands, and her frame was shaken with her sobbing. +When she resumed, she could scarcely see for the bitter tears that kept +welling her eyes.] + +"--and you think, looking at these cold words on the paper, that it was +easy for me to do so. It has not been so easy. I pray God to bless you, +and keep you brave and true and unselfish, and give you happiness in the +success of your work. And I ask a line from you in reply--not sad, but +something that I may look at from time to time, and that will make me +believe you have plenty of interests and hopes in the world, and that +you do not altogether regret that you and I met, and were friends, for a +time. + + NATALIE." + +This was a strange thing: she took another sheet of paper, and slowly +and with a trembling hand wrote on it these words, "_Your Wife._" That +was all. No doubt it was the signature she had hoped one day to use. She +regarded it long, and earnestly, and sadly, until, indeed, she could not +see it for the tears that rose afresh into her eyes. Then she tore up +the piece of paper hastily, folded her letter and addressed it, without +sealing the envelope, and carried it into the other room. + +"Read it mother," she said; and she turned to the window to conceal her +tear-stained face. + +The mother opened the letter and glanced at it. + +"You forget, child," she said. "I know so little English. Tell me what +it is you have written." + +So she was forced to turn; and apparently, as she spoke, she was quite +calm; but there was a darkness underneath her eyes, and there was in her +look something of the worn, sad expression of her mother's face. Briefly +and simply she repeated the substance of the letter, giving no reasons +or justifications. She seemed to take it for granted that her decision +was unavoidable, and would be seen to be so by every one. + +"Natalushka," the mother said, looking anxiously at the troubled face, +"do you know what you are about to do? It is an act of expiation for +something you have not committed." + +"Could I do otherwise?" she said. "You, mother: would you have me think +of a marriage procured through my father's death? It is too horrible!" + +The mother went to her, and took her two hands. + +"My poor child, are you to have no happier life than I have had, after +all? When I used to see you, I used to say to myself, 'Ah, my little +Natalushka will never know what has befallen me--she will have a happy +life!' I could see you laughing as you walked in the gardens there. You +looked so pleased, so content, so bright and cheerful. And now you also +are to have a life of disappointment and sad memories--" + +"Oh, you must not talk like that, mother," the girl said, hastily, in a +low voice. "Have I not you with me? We shall always be together, shall +we not? And you know we shall not have time for brooding over what is +past; we shall have much to do; we must make a pleasant small home +somewhere. Oh, there are many, many people far worse off in the world +than we are. So you must think of getting away from Naples, mother; and +think of where you would like to live, and where I should be most likely +to be able to earn a little. The years will teach us to +forget--and--and--And now you know why I do not wish to go back to +England." + +Her eyes were cast down, but she was forcing herself to speak quite +cheerfully. + +"You see, mother, my knowing English is a great advantage. If we were to +go to one of the towns on the Riviera, like Nice or Mentone, where so +many English families are, one might get pupils who would want to learn +English songs as well as Italian and German--" + +"Yes, yes, Natalushka; but I am not going to have you slave for me. The +little allowance that my cousins send me will do very well for us two, +though you will not get so fine dresses. Then, you see, Natalushka, +Mentone or Nice would be a dear place to live in." + +"Very well, mother," said the girl, with the same apparent cheerfulness, +"I will go down and post my letter, and at the same time get the loan of +a guide book. Then we shall study the maps, and pick out a nice, quiet, +remote little place, where we can live--and forget." + +The last two words were uttered to herself as she opened the door and +went out. She sighed a little as she went down the staircase--that was +all; she was thinking of things very far away. She passed into the hall, +and went to the bureau for some postage-stamps. As she stood there, some +one, unperceived, came up to her: it was Calabressa. + +"Little daughter," said he, in a trembling voice. + +She uttered a slight cry, and shrunk back. + +"Little daughter," said he, holding out his hand. + +But some strange instinct possessed her. She could not avoid touching +his hand--or the tips of his fingers, rather--for one brief second; then +she turned away from him with an involuntary shudder, and went back +through the hall, her head bent down. Calabressa stood looking after her +for a moment or two, then he turned and left the hotel. + +He walked quickly: there were tears running down his face. He looked +neither to the right nor to the left; he was talking in a broken voice +to himself; he repeated again and again, "No, she shall not turn away +from me. She will be sorry for that soon. She will say she should not +have crushed the heart of her old friend Calabressa." + +He walked out to Posilipo. Near the villa where he had formerly sought +the representatives of the Council he passed an old woman who was +selling fruit by the roadside. She glanced up at him, and said, + +"The door is closed, signore." + +"The door must be opened, good mother," said he, scarcely regarding her +as he hurried on. + +Arrived in the garden of the villa, his summons brought out to the +entrance of the grotto the Secretary Granaglia, who somewhat impatiently +told him that it was quite impossible that any member of the Council +should see him. + +"And no doubt it is about that Lind affair?" + +"Indirectly only," Calabressa said. "No, it concerns myself mostly." + +"Quite enough time, the Council think, has been given to the Lind +affair. I can tell you, my friend, there are more important matters +stirring. Now, farewell; I am wanted within." + +However, by dint of much persuasion, Calabressa got Granaglia to take in +a message to Von Zoesch. And, sure enough, his anticipations were +correct; the good-natured, bluff old soldier made his appearance, and +seemed glad to get a breath of fresh air for a minute or two. + +"Well, well, Calabressa, what is it now? Are you not all satisfied? the +young lady with her sweetheart, and all that? You rogue! you guessed +pretty rightly; to tell them the news was no light matter; but by-and-by +she will become reconciled. Her lover is to be envied; she is a +beautiful child, and she has courage. Well, are they not satisfied?" + +"I crave your pardon, Excellency, for intruding upon you," Calabressa +said, in a sort of constrained voice. "It is my own affair that brings +me here. I shall not waste your time. Your Excellency, I claim to be +substitute for Ferdinand Lind." + +The tall soldier burst out laughing. + +"What the devil is the matter with you, Calabressa; have you gone mad?" + +For a second Calabressa stood silent; his eyes downcast; his fingers +working nervously with the cap he held in his hands. + +"Your Excellency," he said, as if struggling to repress some emotion, +"it is a simple matter. I have been to see the beautiful child you speak +of; I addressed her, in the hall of the hotel; she turned away from me, +shuddering, as if I were a murderer--from me, who loves her more than I +love life. Oh, your Excellency, do not smile at it; it is not a girlish +caprice; she has a noble heart; it is not a little thing that would make +her cruel. I know what she thinks--that I have been the means of +procuring her father's death. Be it so. I will give her father his life +again. Take mine--what do I care?" + +"Nonsense, nonsense, my Calabressa. The girl has bewitched you. One must +talk to her. Take your life in exchange for that of Lind? Pooh! We +cannot send good men after bad; you are too valuable to us; whereas he, +if he were released, could be of no more use at all. It is a generous +notion on your part, friend Calabressa, but it is quixotic; moreover, +impossible." + +"You forget, Excellency, that I can claim it," said Calabressa, firmly. +"Under Article V. I can claim to be the substitute of Ferdinand Lind. +Your Excellency yourself has not the power to refuse me. I call upon you +to release Lind from the death-penalty: to-morrow I will take his place; +then you can send a message to--to Natalie Berezolyi's daughter, that, +if I have wronged her, I have made amends." + +Von Zoesch grew more serious; he eyed Calabressa curiously. The elder +man stood there trembling a little with nervous excitement, but with a +firm look on his face: there was no doubt about his resolve. + +"Friend Calabressa," said Von Zoesch, in a kindly way, "it seems as if +you had transferred your old love for Natalie Berezolyi to Natalie's +daughter, only with double intensity; but, you see, we must not allow +you to sacrifice yourself merely because a girl turns her heel on you. +It is not to be thought of. We cannot afford to lose you; besides, it is +monstrous that the innocent should suffer, and the guilty go free--" + +"The articles of the Society, your Excellency--" + +"That particular article, my Calabressa, was framed with a view to +encourage self-sacrifice and generosity, no doubt, but not with a view, +surely, to any such extreme madness as this. No. The fact is, I had no +time to explain the circumstances of the case to the young lady, or I +could easily have shown her how you were no more involved than herself +in procuring the decree against her father. To-day I cannot; to-morrow I +cannot; the day after to-morrow, I solemnly assure you, I will see her, +and reason with her, and convince her that you have acted throughout as +her best friend only could have done. You are too sensitive, my +Calabressa: ah, is it not the old romance recalled that is making you +so? But this I promise you, that she shall beg your pardon for having +turned away from you." + +"Then," said Calabressa, with a little touch of indignant pride, "then +your Excellency imagines that it is my vanity that has been wounded?" + +"No; it is your heart. And she will be sorry for having pained a true +friend: is not that as it should be? Why, your proposal, if she agreed +to it, what would be the result? You would stab her with remorse. For +this momentary slight you would say, 'See, I have killed myself. Learn +now that Calabressa loved you.' But that would be very like revenge, my +Calabressa; and you ought not to think of taking revenge on the daughter +of Natalie Berezolyi." + +"Your Excellency--" + +Calabressa was about to protest: but he was stopped. + +"Leave it to me, my friend. The day after to-morrow we shall have more +leisure. Meanwhile, no more thoughts of quixotism. _Addio!_" + + + + +CHAPTER LVIII. + +A SACRIFICE. + + +It would be difficult to say whether Calabressa was altogether sincere +in claiming to become the substitute for Ferdinand Lind, or whether he +was not practising a little self-deception, and pacifying his wounded +pride and affection by this outburst of generosity, while secretly +conscious that his offer would not be accepted. However, what Calabressa +had declared himself ready to do, in a fit of wild sentimentalism, +another had already done, in terrible earnest. A useless life had +suddenly become ennobled by a tragic and self-sacrificing death. + +Two days after Lord Evelyn left for Naples, Brand and Gathorne Edwards +were as usual in the chambers in Lisle Street, and, the business of the +morning being mostly over, they were chatting together. There was a +brighter look on George Brand's face than there had been there for many +a day. + +"What an indefatigable fellow that Molyneux is!" Edwards was saying. + +"It is a good thing some one can do something," Brand answered. "As for +me, I can't settle down to anything. I feel as if I had been living on +laughing-gas these last two days. I feel as if I had come alive again +into another world, and was a little bit bewildered just as yet. +However, I suppose we shall get shaken into our new positions by-and-by; +and the sooner they let us know their final arrangements the better." + +"As for me," said Edwards, carelessly, "now that I have left the Museum +I don't care where I may have to go." + +At this moment a note was brought in by the old German, and handed to +Edwards. He glanced at the straggling, almost illegible, address in +pencil on the dirty envelope. + +"Well, this is too bad," he said, impatiently. + +"What is it?" + +"That fellow Kirski. He is off again. I can see by his writing. He never +was very good at it; but this is the handwriting of delirium tremens." + +He opened the letter, and glanced at the first page. + +"Oh yes," he said, in disgust, "he's off again, clearly." + +"What does he say?" + +"The usual rigmarole--only not quite so legible. The beautiful angel +who was so kind to him--he has taken her portrait from its +hiding-place--it is sacred now--no more public house--well, it looks +rather as if he had been to several." + +At this point, however, Edwards's pale, high forehead flushed a little. + +"I wish I had not told him; but he speaks of Miss Lind being in +trouble--and he says God never meant one so beautiful and kind as she to +be in trouble--and if her father--" + +His face grew grave. + +"What is this?" + +He turned the leaf suddenly, and glanced at the remainder of the letter. + +"Good God! what does the man mean? What has he done?" he exclaimed. + +His face was quite pale. The letter dropped from his hands. Then he +jumped to his feet. + +"Come, Brand--quick--quick!" he said, hurriedly. "You must come with +me--" + +"But what is the matter?" Brand said, following him in amazement. + +"I don't know," said Edwards, almost incoherently. "He may be raving--it +may only be drunkenness--but he says he is about to kill himself in +place of Lind: the young lady shall not be troubled--she was kind to +him, and he is grateful. I am to send her a message." + +By this time the two friends were hurrying to the dingy little +thoroughfare in which Kirski had his lodgings. + +"Don't alarm yourself, Edwards," said Brand; "he has broken out again, +that is all." + +"I am not so sure. He was at his work yesterday, and sober enough." + +"His brain may have given way, then; it was never very strong. But these +continual ravings about murder or suicide are dangerous; they will +develop into homicidal mania, most likely; and if he cannot get at his +enemy Michaieloff he may do a mischief to somebody else." + +"I hope he has not done a mischief to himself already," said Edwards, +who had had more opportunities than his companion of studying the +workings of Kirski's disordered brain. + +They reached the house and knocked at the door. The landlady made her +appearance. + +"Is Kirski in the house?" Edwards asked, eagerly. + +"No, he ain't," she said, with but scant courtesy. + +"Thank God!" he exclaimed, in great relief. "You are sure? He went out +to his work as usual?" + +"How should I know?" said the woman, who was evidently not on good terms +with her lodger. + +"He had his breakfast as usual?" + +"His breakfast!" she said scornfully. "No, he hadn't. He may pick up his +breakfast about the streets, like a cat; but he don't have any 'ere. And +a cat he is, sneaking up and down the stairs: how do I know whether he +is in the house or whether he ain't?" + +At this Edwards turned pale again with a sudden fear. Brand interposed. + +"You don't know? Then show us his room; we will see for ourselves." + +He passed the woman, leaving her to shut the door, and went into the +small dark passage, waiting for her at the foot of the stairs. Grumbling +to herself, she came along to show them the way. It did not pay her to +waste her time like this, she said, for a lodger who took no food in the +house, and spent his earnings in the gin-shop. She should not be +surprised if they were to find him asleep at that time of the day. He +had ways like a cat. + +The landing they reached was as dark as the staircase; so that when she +turned a handle and flung a door open there was a sudden glare of light. +At the same moment she uttered a shrill scream, and retreated backward. +She had caught a glimpse of some horrible thing--she hardly knew what. +It was the body of the man Kirski lying prone upon the uncarpeted floor, +his hands clinched. There was a dark pool of blood beside him. + +Edwards sunk shuddering into a chair, sick and faint. He could neither +move nor speak; he dared hardly look at the object lying there in the +wan light. But Brand went quickly forward, and took hold of one of these +clinched hands. It was quite cold. He tried to turn over the body, but +relinquished that effort. The cause of death was obvious enough. Kirski +had stabbed himself with one of the tools used in his trade; either he +had deliberately lain down on the floor to make sure of driving the +weapon home, or he had accidentally fallen so after dealing himself the +fatal blow. Apparently he had been dead for some hours. + +Brand rose. The landlady at the door was alternately screaming and +sobbing; declaring that she was ruined; that not another lodger would +come to her house. + +"Be quiet, woman, and send to the police-station at once," Brand said. +"Wait a moment: when did you last see this man?" + +"This morning, sir--early this morning, sir," said she, in a profusion +of tears over her prospective loss. "He came down-stairs with a letter +in his hand, and there was twopence for my little boy to take it when he +came home from school. How should I know he had gone back, sir, to make +away with himself like that, and ruin a poor widow woman, sir?" + +"Have you a servant in the house?" + +"No sir; no one but myself--and me dependent--" + +"Then go at once to the police-station, and tell the inspector on duty +what has happened. You can do that, can't you? You will do no good by +standing crying there, or getting the neighbors in. I will stop here +till you come back." + +She went away, leaving Brand and his paralyzed companion with this +ghastly object lying prone on the floor. + +"Poor devil!" Brand said; "his troubles are at an end now. I wonder +whether I should lift him on to the bed, or wait until they come." + +Then another thought struck him: and he turned quickly to his companion, +who sat there horrified and helpless. + +"Edwards," said he, "you must pull yourself together. The police will +ask you what you know about this affair. Then you will have to give +evidence before the coroner's inquest. There is nothing material for you +to conceal; but still, no mention must be made of Lisle Street, do you +understand?" + +Edwards nodded. His face was of a ghastly white. Then he rose and said, + +"Let us go somewhere else, Brand." + +His companion took him down-stairs into the landlady's parlor, and got +him a glass of water. Apparently there was not a human being in the +house but themselves. + +"Do you understand, Edwards? Give your private address--not Lisle +Street. Then you can tell the story simply enough: that unfortunate +fellow came all the way from Russia--virtually a maniac--you can tell +them his story if you like; or shall I?" + +"Yes, yes. It has been too much for me, Brand. You see, I had no +business to tell him about Lind--" + +"The poor wretch would have ended his days miserably anyhow, no doubt in +a mad-house, and probably after killing some quite innocent person. +By-the-way, they will ask you how you came to suspect. Where is that +letter?" + +Edwards took it from his pocket. + +"Tear it up." + +He did so; but Brand took the fragments and put them in his own pocket. + +"You can tell them he wrote to you, and from the madness of the letter +you thought something was wrong. You destroyed the letter. But where is +Natalie's portrait?--that must not fall into their hands." + +He instantly went up-stairs again, leaving his companion alone. There +was something strange in his entering this room where the corpse lay; it +seemed necessary for him to walk on tiptoe: he uncovered his head. A +glance round the almost empty room speedily showed him what he wanted; +there was a small wooden casket in a dusky corner by the window, and +that, he made no doubt, was the box the unhappy Kirski had made to +contain Natalie's portrait, and that he had quite recently dug out from +its place of concealment. Brand was surprised, however, to find the +casket empty. Then he glanced at the fireplace; there was a little dust +there, as of burnt card-board. Then he made sure that Kirski himself had +taken steps to prevent the portrait falling into alien hands. + +Beside the box, however, lay a piece of paper, written over in pencil. +He took it up and made out it was chiefly ill-spelled Italian: +"_Whatever punishment may be decreed against any Officer, Companion, or +Friend of the Society, may be vicariously borne by any other Officer, +Companion, or Friend, who, of his own full and free consent, acts as +substitute--the original offender becoming thereby redeemed, acquitted, +and released._" Then followed some words which he could not make out at +all. + +He carried the paper down-stairs. + +"He appears to have burnt the photograph, Edwards; but he has left +this--see." + +Edwards glanced at the trembling scrawl with a slight shiver; the +handwriting was the same as that he had received half an hour before. + +"It is only Article V.," he said. "The poor fellow used to keep +repeating that, after Calabressa and I taught him in Venice." + +"But what is written below?" + +Edwards forced himself to take the paper in his hands, and to scan more +carefully its contents. + +"It is Russian," he said, "but so badly written. '_My life is not +endurable longer, but I shall die happy in being of service to the +beautiful angel who was kind to me. Tell her she need not be in trouble +any more. I forgive Pavel Michaieloff, as my masters desire. I do not +wish my wife or my neighbors to know what I have done._'" + +"This we have no right to meddle with," Brand said, thoughtfully. "I +will put it back where I got it. But you see, Edwards, you will have to +admit that you were aware this poor wretch was in communication with +some secret society or other. Further than that you need say nothing. +The cause of his suicide is clear enough; the man was mad when he came +to England with that wild craving for revenge in his brain." + +Brand carried the paper up-stairs again, and placed it where he had +found it. At the same moment there was a sound of footsteps below; and +presently the police-officers, accompanied by the landlady and by +Gathorne Edwards, who had somewhat recovered his composure, entered to +hold their preliminary investigation. The notes that the inspector took +down in his pocket-book were brief enough, and were mostly answers to +questions addressed to Brand, regarding what he knew of the deceased +man's circumstances. The police-surgeon had meanwhile had the body +placed on the bed; he also was of opinion that the man had been dead +some hours. Edwards translated for the inspector the writing on the +paper found lying there, and said he believed Kirski had some connection +with a secret society, but that it was obvious he had destroyed himself +from despair; and that, indeed, the unhappy man had never been properly +right in his mind since ever he had known him, though they had hoped, by +getting him to do steady work and sure wages, to wean him away from +brooding over the wrongs that had driven him from his native country. +Edwards gave the officer his address, Brand saying that he had to leave +England that same night, and would not be available for any further +inquiry, but that his friend knew precisely as much about the case as +himself. Then he and his companion left. + +Edwards breathed more freely when he got out of the house, even into the +murky atmosphere of Soho. + +"It is a tragic end," he said, "but perhaps it is the best that could +have befallen him. I called yesterday at the shop, and found he was +there, and sober, though I did not see him. I was surprised to find he +had gone back." + +"I thought he had solemnly promised you not to drink any more," Brand +said. + +"He had made the same promises before. He took to drink merely to +forget--to drown this thing that was working in his brain. If he had +lived, it would have been the old story over again. He would have buried +the portrait in St. James's Park, as he did before, gone back to the +gin-shop, and in course of time drank himself to death. This end is +terrible enough, but there is a touch of something fine about it--it +redeems much. What a worship the poor fellow had for Miss Lind, to be +sure; because she was kind to him when he was half mad with his wrongs. +I remember he used to go about the churches in Venice to see if any of +the saints in the pictures were like her, but none satisfied him. You +will send her a message of what he has done to repay her at last?" + +"I will take it myself," said Brand, hastily. "I must go, Edwards. You +must get ---- or ---- to come to these chambers--any one you may think of. +I must go myself, and at once." + +"To-night, then?" + +"Yes, to-night. It is a pity I troubled Evelyn to go." + +"He would stay a day, perhaps two days, in Genoa. It is just possible +you might overtake him by going straight through." + +"Yes," said Brand, with a strange smile on his face, as if he were +looking at something far away, and it was scarcely to his companion that +he spoke, "I think I will go straight through. I should not like any one +but myself to take Natalie this news." + +They walked back to the chambers, and Brand began to put things in order +for his going. + +"It is rather a shame," he said, during this business, "for one to be +glad that this poor wretch has come to such an end; but what better +could have happened to him, as you say? You will see about a decent +funeral, Edwards; and I will leave you something to stop the mouth of +that caterwauling landlady. You can tell them at the inquest that he has +no relations in this country." + +By-and-by he said, + +"If there are any debts, I will pay them; and if no one has any +objection I should like to have that casket, to show to--to Miss Lind. +Did you see the carving on it?" + +"I looked at it." + +"He must have spent many a night working at that. Poor wretch, I wish I +had looked after him more, and done more for him. One always feels that +when people are dead, and it is too late." + +"I don't see how you could have done more for him," Edwards said, +honestly enough: though indeed it was he himself who had been Kirski's +chief protector of late. + +Before evening came Brand had put affairs in proper trim for his +departure, and he left London with a lighter heart than had been his for +a long time. But ever and anon, as he journeyed to the south, with a +wonderful picture of joy and happiness before him, his mind would wander +away back to the little room in Soho, and he could see the unhappy +Russian lying dead, with the message left behind for the beautiful angel +who had been kind to him; and he could not but think that Kirski would +have died happier if he had known that Natalie herself would come some +day and put flowers, tenderly and perhaps even with tears, on his grave. +Who that knew her could doubt but that that would be her first act on +returning to England? At least, Brand thought so. + + + + +CHAPTER LIX. + +NATALIE SPEAKS. + + +It was about five in the morning, and as yet dark, when George Brand +arrived in Naples. He wrote a note asking Calabressa to call on him, and +left it to be despatched by the porter of the hotel; then he lay down +for an hour or two, without undressing, for he was somewhat fatigued +with his continuous travelling. + +On going down to breakfast he got Calabressa's answer, saying he was +very sorry he could not obey the commands of his dear friend Monsieur +Brand, because he was on duty; but that he could be found, if Monsieur +Brand would have the goodness to seek out the wine-vaults of one +Tommaso, in the Vicolo Isotta. There, also, Monsieur Brand would see +some others. + +Accordingly, after breakfast Brand set out, leisurely and observantly, +for he did not think there was any great hurry. It was a beautiful, +brisk, breezy morning, though occasionally a squall of rain swept across +the roughened sea, blotting out Capri altogether. There were crisp +gleams of white on the far plain, and there was a dazzling mist of +sunlight and sea-foam where the waves sprung high on the rocks of the +citadel; and even here in the busy streets there was a fresh sea-odor as +the gusts of the damp wind blew along. Naples was alive and busy, but +Brand regarded this swarming population with but little interest. He +knew that none of his friends would be out and abroad so early. + +In due time he found out the gloomy little court and the wine-vaults. +Moreover, he had no trouble with the ghoul-like Tommaso, who had +apparently received his instructions. No sooner had Brand inquired for +Calabressa than he was invited to follow his guide, who waddled along, +candle in hand, like some over-grown orang-outang. At length they +reached the staircase, where there was a little more light, and here he +found Calabressa waiting to receive him. Calabressa seemed overjoyed. + +"Yes, yes, my dear Monsieur Brand, you have arrived opportunely. You +also will remonstrate with that beautiful child for having fallen out +with her old friend Calabressa. Think of it! one who would wear his +knees out to serve her; and when I go to the hotel--" + +"One word, Calabressa," said Brand, as he followed him into a small +empty room. "Tell me, is Lind in Naples?" + +"Assuredly. He has petitioned for a year's grace: he wishes to join the +Montenegrins." + +"He will have more than a year's grace," said Brand, gravely. "Something +has happened. You remember the man Kirski? Well, he has killed himself +to release Lind." + +"Just Heaven!" Calabressa exclaimed; but the exclamation was one of +astonishment, not in the least of regret. On the contrary, he began to +speak in tones of exultation. + +"Ah, let us hear now what the beautiful child will say! For who was it +that reclaimed that savage animal, and taught him the beautifulness of +self-sacrifice, and showed him how the most useless life could be made +serviceable and noble? Who but I? He was my pupil: I first watched the +light of virtue beginning to radiate through his savage nature. That is +what I will ask the beautiful Natalushka when I see her. Perhaps she +will not again turn away from an old friend--" + +"You seem to forget, Calabressa, that your teaching has brought this man +to his death," Brand said. + +"Why not?" said Calabressa, with a perfectly honest stare. "Why not? Was +it not well done? Was it not a fitting end? Why I, even I, who watched +him long, did not expect to see that: his savagery falling away from him +bit by bit; himself rising to this grand height, that he should give his +life to save another: I tell you it is a beautiful thing; he has +understood what I taught him; he has seen clear." + +Calabressa was much excited, and very proud. It seemed to him that he +had saved a soul as he remarked in his ornate French. + +"Perhaps it has all happened for the best," Brand said; "perhaps it was +the best that could have befallen that poor devil, too. But you are +mistaken, Calabressa, about his reasons for giving up his life like +that. It was not for the sake of a theory at all, admirable as your +teachings may have been; it was for the sake of Natalie Lind. He heard +she was in trouble, and he learned the cause of it. It was gratitude to +her--it was love for her--that made him do this." + +Calabressa changed his ground in an instant. + +"Assuredly--assuredly, my dear friend: do you think I fail to understand +that--I, who perceived that he worshipped that beautiful child as if she +were a saint, and more than all the saints--do you think I cannot mark +that--the sentiment of love, the fervor of worship, growing brighter and +purer day by day until it burst into the beautiful flame of +self-sacrifice? My faith! this must be told at once. Remain here a few +moments, my dear Mr. Brand. This is news indeed." + +"Wait a bit, Calabressa. I came to you to get the name of Natalie's +hotel: and where is Lord Evelyn?" + +"One moment--one moment," said the old albino, as he went out and shut +the door behind him. + +When Calabressa ceased to talk in French, he ceased to use roundabout +literary sentimental metaphors; and his report, delivered in the next +room, would appear to have been brief enough; for almost immediately he +returned, accompanied by Von Zoesch, to whom Brand was introduced. + +"I am honored in making your acquaintance," the tall soldier said, in a +pleasant way. "I have heard much of you; you are a good worker; likewise +you do not flinch when a duty is demanded of you. Perhaps, if you would +only condescend to re-enforce the treasury sometimes, the Council would +be still further grateful to you. However, we are not to become beggars +at a first interview--and that a short one, necessarily--for to-day we +start for Genoa." + +"I am sorry for that," Brand said, simply. "There were some +representations I wished to lay before the Council--some very serious +representations." + +"Perhaps some other time, then. In the meanwhile, our hands are full. +And that reminds me that the news you bring makes one of my tasks to-day +a pleasant one. Yes, I remember something of that maniac-fellow babbling +about a saint and an angel--I heard of it. So it was your beautiful Miss +Lind who was the saint and the angel? Well, do you know that I was +about to give that young lady a very good scolding to-day?" + +Brand flushed quickly. The authority of the Council had no terrors for +him where Natalie was concerned. + +"I beg to remind you," he said, respectfully but firmly, "that the fact +of Miss Lind's father being connected with the Society gives no one the +right to intermeddle in her private affairs--" + +"Oh, but, my dear sir," said Von Zoesch laughing. "I have ample right. +Her mother Natalie and I are very old friends indeed. You have not seen +the charming young lady, then, since your arrival?" + +"No." + +"Excellent--excellent! You shall come and hear the scolding I have to +give her. Oh, I assure you it will not harm her much. Calabressa will +bring you along to the Villa Odelschalchi, eleven sharp. We must not +keep a lady--two ladies, indeed--waiting, after making an appointment." + +He rose from the plain wooden chair on which he had been sitting; and +his visitor had to rise also. But Brand stood reluctant to go, and his +brows were drawn down. + +"I beg your pardon," said he, "but if you are so busy, why not depute +some friend of the young lady to carry her a message? A girl is easily +frightened." + +"No, no, my dear sir; having made an appointment, must we not keep it? +Come, I shall expect you to make one of the party; it will be a pleasant +little comedy before we go to more serious matters. _Au revoir!_" He +bowed slightly, and withdrew. + +Some little time afterward Brand, Evelyn, and Calabressa were driving +along the rough streets in an open carriage. The presence of Lord Evelyn +had been a last concession obtained from General von Zoesch by +Calabressa. + +"Why not?" Von Zoesch had said, good-naturedly; "he is one of us. +Besides, there is nothing of importance at Portici. It is a little +family party; it is a little comedy before we go to Genoa." + +As they rattled along, Lord Evelyn was very talkative and joyous. He had +seen Natalie the evening before, within an hour after his arrival. He +was laughing at Brand for fearing she might have been induced to go to +some wretched inn. + +"I myself, did I not say to you it was a beautiful hotel?" said +Calabressa, with a hurt air. "The most beautiful view in Naples." + +"I think, after what she will hear to-day," said Evelyn, "she ought to +ask us to dine there. That would be an English way of finishing up all +her trials and troubles." But he turned to Calabressa with a graver +look. "What about Lind? Will they reinstate him now? Will they send him +back to England?" + +"Reinstate him in office?" said Calabressa, with a scornful smile. "My +faith, no! Neither him nor Beratinsky. They will give them letters to +Montenegro: isn't it enough?" + +"Well, I think so. And Reitzei?" + +"Reitzei has been stationed at Brindisi--one of our moral police; and +lucky for him also." + +When they arrived at the Villa Odelschalchi they were shown into a +little anteroom where they found Granaglia, and he was introduced to the +two strangers. + +"Who have come?" Calabressa said, in a low voice. + +The little sallow-faced Secretary smiled. + +"Several Brothers of the Council," he said. "They wish to see this young +lady who has turned so many heads. You, for example, my Calabressa, are +mad with regard to her. Well, they pay her a compliment. It is the first +time any woman has been in the presence of the Council." + +At this moment Von Zoesch came in, and hastily threw aside his +travelling-cloak. + +"Come, my friends," said he, and he took them with him, leaving +Granaglia to receive the ladies when they should arrive. + +The lofty and spacious apartment they now entered, on the other side of +the corridor, was apparently one of a suite of rooms facing the sea. Its +walls were decorated in Pompeian fashion, with simulated trellis-work, +and plenty of birds, beasts, and fishes about; but the massive curtains +and spreading chandeliers were all covered over as if the house had not +been inhabited for some time. All that was displayed of the furniture of +the chambers were some chairs of blue satin, with white and gold backs +and legs; and these looked strange enough, seeing that they were placed +irregularly round an oblong, rough deal table, which looked as if it had +just come from the workshop of some neighboring carpenter. At or near +this table several men, nearly all elderly, were sitting, talking +carelessly to each other; one of them, indeed, at the farthermost +corner, was a venerable patriarch, who wore a large soft wide-awake over +his snow-white hair. At the head of the table sat the handsome, +pale-faced, Greek-looking man who has been mentioned as one Conventz. He +was writing a letter, but stopped when Brand and Evelyn were introduced +to him. Then Calabressa drew in some more of the gilt and blue chairs, +and they sat down close by. + +Brand kept anxiously looking toward the door. He had not long to wait. +When it opened, Granaglia appeared, conducting into the room two figures +dressed in black. These dark figures looked impressive in the great, +white, empty room. + +For a second Natalie stood bewildered and irresolute, seeing all these +faces turned to her; and when her eyes fell on her lover, she turned +deadly pale. But she went forward, along with her mother, to the two +chairs brought for them by Granaglia, and they sat down. The mother was +veiled. Natalie glanced at her lover again; there was a strange look in +his face, but not of pain or fear. + +"My dear young lady," said Von Zoesch, in his pleasantest way, "we have +nothing but good news to communicate to you, so you must not be alarmed. +You are among friends. We are going away to-day; we all wish to say +good-bye to you, and wish you a happy journey back to England; that is +all. But I will tell you that my first object in asking you to come here +was to give you a good rating; when you and I should have been alone +together I would have asked you if you had no consideration for old +friends, that you should have turned away from my colleague, Calabressa, +and wounded him grievously. I would have reminded you that it was not +he, but you yourself, who put the machinery in motion which secured your +father's righteous conviction." + +"I ask you to spare me, signore," the girl said, in a low and trembling +voice. + +"Oh, I am not now going to scold you, my dear young lady. I intended to +have done so. I intended to have shown you that you were wrong, and +exceedingly ungrateful, and that you ought to ask pardon of my friend +Calabressa. However, it is all changed. You need not fear him any more; +you need not turn away from him. Your father is pardoned, and free!" + +She looked up, uncertain, as if she had not heard aright. + +"I repeat: your father is pardoned, and free. You shall learn how and +why afterward. Meanwhile you have nothing before you, as I take it, but +to reap the reward of your bravery." + +She did not hear this last sentence. She had turned quickly to her +mother. + +"Mother, do you hear?" she said in a whisper. + +"Yes, yes, child: thank God!" + +"Now, you see, my dear young lady," Von Zoesch continued, "it is not a +scolding, but good news I have given you; and nothing remains but that +you should bid us good-bye, and say you are not sorry you appealed to us +when you were in trouble, according to the advice of your good friend +Calabressa. See, I have brought here with me a gentleman whom you know, +and who will see you safe back to Naples, and to England; and another, +his companion, who is also, I understand, an old friend of yours: you +will have a pleasant party. Your father will be sent to join in a good +cause, where he may retrieve his name if he chooses; you and your +friends go back to England. So I may say that all your wishes are +gratified at last, and we have nothing now but to say good-bye!" + +The girl had been glancing timidly and nervously at the figures grouped +round the table, and her breast was heaving. She rose; perhaps it was to +enable herself to speak more freely; perhaps it was only out of +deference to those seated there. + +"No," she said, in a low voice, but it was heard clearly enough in the +silence. "I--I would say a word to you--whom I may not see again. Yes, I +thank you--from my heart; you have taken a great trouble away from my +life. I--I thank you; but there is something I would say." + +She paused for a second. She was very pale. She seemed to be nerving +herself for some effort; and, strangely enough, her mother's hand, +unseen, was stretched up to her, and she clasped it and held it tight. +It gave her courage. + +"It is true, I am only a girl; you are my elders, and you are men; but I +have known good and brave men who were not ashamed to listen to what a +woman thought was right; and it is as a woman that I speak to you," she +said; and her voice, low and timid as it was, had a strange, pathetic +vibration in it, that went to the heart. "I have suffered much of late. +I hope no other woman will ever suffer in the same way." + +Again she hesitated, but for the last time. + +"Oh, gentlemen, you who are so powerful, you who profess to seek only +mercy and justice and peace, why should you, also, follow the old, bad, +cruel ways, and stain yourselves with blood? Surely it is not for you, +the friends of the poor, the champions of the weak, the teachers of the +people, to rely on the weapon of the assassin! When you go to the world, +and seek for help and labor, surely you should go with clean hands--so +that the wives and the sisters and the daughters of those who may join +you may not have their lives made terrible to them. It is not a reign +of terror you would establish on the earth! For the sake of those who +have already joined you--for the sake of the far greater numbers who may +yet be your associates--I implore you to abandon these secret and +dreadful means. Surely, gentlemen, the blessing of Heaven is more likely +to follow you and crown your work if you can say to every man whom you +ask to join you, 'You have women-folk around you. They have tender +consciences, perhaps; but we will ask of you nothing that your sister or +your wife or your daughter would not approve.' Then good men will not be +afraid of you; then brave men will not have to stifle their conscience +in serving you; and whether you succeed or do not succeed, you will have +walked in clear ways." + +Her mother felt that she was trembling; but her voice did not +tremble--beyond that pathetic thrill in it which was always there when +she was deeply moved. + +"I have to beg your pardon, sir," she said, addressing herself more +particularly to Von Zoesch, but scarcely daring to lift her eyes. +"But--but do not think that, when you have made everything smooth for a +woman's happiness, she can then think only of herself. She also may +think a little about others; and even with those who are nearest and +dearest to her, how can she bear to know that perhaps they may be +engaged in something dark and hidden, something terrible--not because it +involves danger but because it involves shame? Gentlemen, if you choose, +you can do this. I appeal to you. I implore you. If you do not seek the +co-operation of women--well, that is a light matter; you have our +sympathy and love and gratitude--at least you can pursue ways and means +of which women can approve; ways and means of which no one, man or +woman, needs be ashamed. How otherwise are you what you profess to +be--the lovers of what is just and true and merciful?" + +She sat down, still all trembling. She held her mother's hand. There was +a murmur of sympathy and admiration. + +Brand turned to Von Zoesch, and said, in a low voice, + +"You hear, sir? These are the representations I had wished to lay before +the Council. I have not a word to add." + +"We will consider by-and-by," said Von Zoesch, rising. "It is not a +great matter. Come to me in Genoa as you pass through." + +But the tall old gentleman with the long white hair had already risen +and gone round to where the girl sat, and put his hand on her shoulder. + +"My noble child, you have spoken well," said he, in a quavering, feeble +voice, "Forgive me that I come so near; my eyes are very weak now; and +you--you do not recognize me any more?" + +"Anton!" said the mother. + +"Child," said he, still addressing Natalie, "it is old Anton Pepczinski +who is speaking to you. But you are disturbed; and I have greatly +changed, no doubt. No matter. I have travelled a long way to bring you +my blessing, and I give it to you now: I shall not see you again in this +world. You were always brave and good; be that to the end; God has given +you a noble soul." + +She looked up, and something in her face told him that she had +recognized him, despite the changes time had made. + +"Yes, yes," he said, in great delight; "you remember now that you used +to bring me tobacco for my pipe, and ask if I would fight for your +country; I can see it in your eyes, my child: you remember, then, the +old Anton Pepczinski who used to bring you sweet things? Now come and +take me to the English gentleman; I wish to speak to him. Tell me, does +he love you--does he understand you?" + +She was silent, and embarrassed. + +"No! you will not speak?" the old man said, laughing; "you cast your +eyes down again. See, now, how one changes! for in former days you made +love openly enough--oh yes!--to me, to me myself--oh, my dear, I can +remember. I can remember very well. I am not so old that I cannot +remember." + +Brand rose when he saw them coming. She regarded him earnestly for a +brief second or two, and said something to him in English in an +undertone, not understood by those standing round. + + + + +CHAPTER LX. + +NEW SHORES. + + +The moonlight lay on the moving Atlantic, and filled the hollow world +with a radiance soft and gray and vague; but it struck sharp and white +on the polished rails and spars of this great steamer, and shone on the +long and shapely decks, and on the broad track of foam that went away +back and back and back until it was lost in the horizon. It was late; +and nearly all the passengers had gone below. In the silence there was +only heard the monotonous sound of the engines, and the continuous rush +and seething of the waters as the huge vessel clove its way onward. + +Out there by the rail, in the white light, Natalie Lind lay back in her +chair, all wrapped up in furs, and her lover was by her side, on a rug +on the deck, his hand placed over her hand. + +"To-morrow, then, Natalie," he was saying, "you will get your first +glimpse of America." + +"So you see I have procured your banishment after all," she said, with a +smile. + +"Not you," was the answer. "I had thought of it often. For a new life, a +new world; and it is a new life you and I are beginning together." + +Here the bell in the steering-room struck the half-hour; it was repeated +by the lookout forward. The sound was strange, in the silence. + +"Do you know," he said, after a while, "after we have done a fair share +of work, we might think ourselves entitled to rest; and what better +could we do than go back to England for a time, and go down to the old +place in Buckinghamshire? Then Mrs. Alleyne would be satisfied at last. +How proud the old dame was when she recognized you from your portrait! +She thought all her dreams had come true, and that there was nothing +left but to the Checkers and carry off that old cabinet as a wedding +present." + +"Natalie," he said, presently, "how is it that you always manage to do +the right thing at the right time? When Mrs. Alleyne took your mother +and you in to the Checkers, and old Mrs. Diggles led you into her parlor +and dusted the table with her apron, what made you think of asking her +for a piece of cake and a cup of tea?" + +"My dearest, I saw the cake in the bar!" she exclaimed. + +"I believe the old woman was ready to faint with delight when you +praised her currant-wine, and asked how she made it. You have a +wonderful way of getting round people--whether by fair means or +otherwise I don't know. Do you think if it had been anybody else but you +who went to Von Zoesch in Genoa, he would have let Calabressa come with +us to America?" + +"Poor old Calabressa!" she said, laughing; "he is very brave now about +the sea; but he was terribly frightened that bad night we had after +leaving Queenstown." + +Here some one appeared in the dusky recess at the top of the +companion-stairs, and stepped out into the open. + +"Are you people never coming below at all?" he said. "I have to inform +you, Miss Natalie, with your mamma's compliments, that she can't get on +with her English verbs because of that fat girl playing Strauss; and +that she is going to her cabin, and wants to know when you are coming." + +"Now, at once," said Natalie, getting up out of her chair. "But wait a +moment, Evelyn: I cannot go without bidding good-night to Calabressa. +Where is Calabressa?" + +"Calabressa! Oh, in the smoking-room, betting like mad, and going in for +all the mock-auctions. I expect some of them will sit up all night to +get their first sight of the land. The pilot expects that will be +shortly after daybreak." + +"You will be in time for that, Natalie, won't you?" Brand asked. + +"Oh yes. Good-night, Evelyn!" and she gave him her hand. + +Brand went with her down the companion-stairs, carrying her rugs and +shawls. In the corridor she turned to bid him good-night also. + +"Dearest," she said, in a low voice, "do you know what I have been +trying all day--to get you to say one word, the smallest word, of +regret?" + +"But if I have no regret whatever, how can I express any?" + +"Sure?" + +He laughed, and kissed her. + +"Good-night, my darling!" + +"Good-night; God bless you!" + +Then he made his way along the gloomy corridor again and up the broad +zinc steps, and out into the moonlight. Evelyn was there, leaning with +his arms on the hand-rail, and idly watching, far below, the gleams of +light on the gray-black waves. + +"It is too fine a night to go below," he said. "What do you say, +Brand--shall we wait up for the daylight and the first glimpse of +America?" + +"If you like," said Brand, taking out his cigar-case, and hauling along +the chair in which Natalie had been sitting. + +They had the whole of this upper deck to themselves, except when one or +other of the officers passed on his rounds. They could talk without risk +of being overheard: and they had plenty to talk about--of all that had +happened of late, of all that might happen to them in this new country +they were nearing. + +"Well," he said, "Evelyn, that settlement in Genoa clinched everything, +as far as I am concerned. I have no longer any doubt, any hesitation: +there is nothing to be concealed now--nothing to be withheld, even from +those who are content to remain merely as our friends. One might have +gone on as before; for, after all, these death-penalties only attached +to the officers; and the great mass of the members, not being touched by +them, need have known nothing about them. But it is better now." + +"It was Natalie's appeal that settled that," Lord Evelyn said, as he +still watched the shining waves. + +"The influence of that girl is extraordinary. One could imagine that +some magnetism radiated from her; or perhaps it is her voice, and her +clear faith, and her enthusiasm. When she said something to old Anton +Pepczinski, on bidding him good-bye--not about herself, or about him, +but about what some of us were hoping for--he was crying like a child! +In other times she might have done great things: she might have led +armies." + +By-and-by he said, + +"As for those decrees, what use were they? From all I could learn, only +ten have been issued since the Society was in existence; and eight of +those were for the punishment of officers, who ought merely to have been +expelled. Of course you will get people like Calabressa, with a touch of +theatrical-mindedness, who have a love for the terrorism such a thing +can produce. But what use is it? It is not by striking down an +individual here or there that you can help on any wide movement; and +this great organization, that I can see in the future will have other +things to do than take heed of personal delinquencies--except in so far +as to purge out from itself unworthy members--its action will affect +continents, not persons." + +"You can see that--you believe that, Brand?" Lord Evelyn, said, turning +and regarding him. + +"Yes, I think so," he answered, without enthusiasm, but with simple +sincerity. Presently he said, "You remember, Evelyn, the morning we +turned out of the little inn on the top of the Niessen, to see the sun +rise over the Bernese Alps?" + +"I remember it was precious cold," said Lord Evelyn, almost with a +shiver. + +"You remember, when we got to the highest point, we looked down into the +great valleys, where the lakes and the villages were, and there it was +still night under the heavy clouds. But before us, where the peaks of +the Jungfrau, and the Wetterhorn, and the rest of them rose into the +clear sky, there was a curious faint light that showed the day was +coming. And we waited and watched, and the light grew stronger, and all +sorts of colors began to show along the peaks. That was the sunrise. But +down in the valleys everything was misty and dark and cold--everything +asleep; the people there could see nothing of the new day we were +looking at. And so I suppose it is with us now. We are looking ahead. We +see, or fancy we see, the light before the others; but, sooner or later, +they will see it also, for the sunrise is bound to come." + +They continued talking, and they paced up and down the decks, while the +half-hours and hours were struck by the bells. The moon was declining to +the horizon. Long ago the last of the revellers had left the +smoking-room, and there was nothing to interrupt the stillness but the +surge of the waters. + +Then again-- + +"Have you noticed Natalie's mother of late? It is a pleasure to watch +the poor woman's face; she seems to drink in happiness by merely looking +at her daughter; every time that Natalie laughs you can see her mother's +eyes brighten." + +"I have noticed a great change in Natalie herself," Evelyn said. "She is +looking younger; she has lost that strange, half-apprehensive expression +of the eyes; and she seems to be in excellent spirits. Calabressa is +more devotedly her slave than ever." + +"You should have seen him when Von Zoesch told him to pack up and be off +to America." + +By-and-by he said, + +"You know, Evelyn, if you can't stay in America with us altogether--and +that would be too much to expect--don't say anything as yet to Natalie +about your going back. She has the notion that our little colony is to +be founded as a permanency." + +"Oh, I am in no hurry," said Evelyn, carelessly. "Things will get along +at home well enough without me. Didn't I tell you that, once those girls +began to go, they would go, like lightning? It is rough on Blanche, +though, that Truda should come next. By-the-way, in any case, Brand, I +must remain in America for your wedding." + +"Oh, you will, will you?" said Brand. "Then that settles one point--you +won't be going back very soon." + +"Why?" + +"Of course, Natalie and I won't marry until she is of age; that is a +good year and a half yet. Did you hear of Calabressa's mad proposal that +he should extort from Lind his consent to our marriage as the price of +the good news that he, Calabressa, had to reveal? Like him, wasn't it? +an ingenious scheme." + +"What did you say?" + +"Why, what could I say? I would not be put under any obligation to Lind +on any account whatever. We can wait; it is not a long time." + +The moonlight waned, and there was another light slowly declaring itself +in the east. The two friends continued talking, and did not notice how +that the cold blue light beyond the sea was gradually yielding to a +silver-gray. The pilot and first mate, who were on the bridge, had just +been joined by the captain. + +The silver-gray in its turn gave place to a clear yellow, and high up +one or two flakes of cloud became of a saffron-red. Then the burning +edge of the sun appeared over the waves; the world lightened; the masts +and funnels of the steamer caught the glory streaming over from the +east. The ship seemed to waken also; one or two stragglers came tumbling +up from below, rubbing their eyes, and staring strangely around them; +but as yet no land was in sight. + +The sunrise now flooded the sky and the sea; the number of those on deck +increased; and at last there was an eager passing round of binoculars, +and a murmur of eager interest. Those with sharp eyes enough could make +out, right ahead, in the midst of the pale glow of the morning, a thin +blue line of coast. + +The great steamer surged on through the sunlit waters. And now even +those who were without glasses could distinguish, here and there along +that line of pale-blue land, a touch of yellowish-white; and they +guessed that the new world there was already shining with the light of +the new day. Brand felt a timid, small hand glide into his. Natalie was +standing beside him, her beautiful black hair a trifle dishevelled, +perhaps, and her eyes still bearing traces of her having been in the +realm of dreams; but those eyes were full of tenderness, nevertheless, +as she met his look. He asked her if she could make out that strip of +coast beyond the shining waters. + +"Can you see, Natalie? It is our future home!" + +"Oh yes, I can see it," she said; "and the sunrise is there before us: +it is a happy sign." + + * * * * * + +There remains to be added only this--that about the last thing Natalie +Lind did before leaving England was to go and plant some flowers, +carefully and tenderly, on Kirski's grave; and that about the first +thing she did on landing in America was to write to Madame Potecki, +asking her to look after the little Anneli, and sending many loving +messages: for this girl--or, rather, this beautiful child, as Calabressa +would persist in calling her--had a large heart, that could hold many +affections and many memories, and that was not capable of forgetting any +one who had been kind to her. + + + THE END. + + +[Transcriber's Note: obvious printer's errors / misspellings have been +corrected, please see the HTML version for detail.] + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Sunrise, by William Black + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SUNRISE *** + +***** This file should be named 17308.txt or 17308.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/3/0/17308/ + +Produced by Robert Cicconetti, Michael Punch and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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