CHAPTER XII.ON THE NEVA.
The next day Jack went out alone, hoping to meet Chance. On his return, he told us he had missed the dog, but had called on Sophie, who was suffering from a cold, and had not left the house since we had taken supper with her.
“She seemed awfully nervous,” he added. “I guess it was the search for Ivan that has upset her, though she didn’t speak of it. Her mother was sick in bed, and the house blue generally.”
He had asked Sophie to go with us that evening to the Neva. It was to be a kind of gala night, with fireworks and more bands of music than usual, and it was rumored that some of the court dignitaries were to be present, and Jack was very anxious to go. Sophie had hesitated at first, he said, saying she was tired of everything, and was going back to Paris as soon as her mother was better. At last, however, she was persuaded, and agreed to join us at a certain hour and place she named. Jack was in high spirits, but Katy was very quiet, just asshe had been since the evening at Madame Scholaskie’s. She would like to see the fine sight, she said, but she was sorry Jack had persuaded Sophie, against her will, to join us. Two or three times she seemed on the point of telling me something, or asking something.
Twice she got as far as to begin: “Say, auntie——” and when I answered, “Yes. What is it?” she replied: “Oh, nothing. I only had a queer thought.”
What the thought was she did not tell me then, and by the time we were ready for the expedition she was as bright as usual, and had never looked lovelier. There was an eagerness in her manner which I had seldom seen. She could scarcely wait for us to start, and was more impatient than Jack, who had been counting the hours. Outside the hotel we found Chance, shaking his head, with a note in his mouth for me.
“Don’t go to the Neva to-night,” it read; “it is too cold. Wait till some other time!”
I was perplexed and mystified, and wondered how M. Seguin knew we were going upon the river.
“I know,” Jack said. “I met that girl Zaidee, who stood behind madame’s chair during the dinner. She can speak some English, and I talked with her, and askedif she was ever on the river at night. She nearly turned a somersault in the street trying to express her delight.”
We laughed, and Jack continued:
“Ye-us; be-u-tiful! be-u-tiful!” she said, and then I told her we were going to-night with Miss Sophie.
“‘Oh!’ she almost screeched, and nearly turned another somersault, and ran toward home. She told him, of course, and he must meddle and dictate! Come on! I’m going, and so is Chance; it will be fun to see him run up and down.”
Here Katy interposed, suggesting that we take M. Seguin’s advice and stay at home. “He had some reason besides the cold,” she said. But Jack was determined, and began to call back the dog, who had started for home.
“Jack,” Katy said, and I never saw her so firm, “if Chance comes, I shall stay at home. Miss Sophie”—and her voice shook—“does not like him, nor anything pertaining to the Seguins. She was white as a corpse when Chance was at the door clamoring to get in. She is afraid of dogs.”
“That’s so!” Jack said. “She was like a piece of chalk. Chancey, you will have to go home, but you must send him,” he said, turning to me. “He won’t budge for me.”
The dog had crouched at my feet, and was looking up earnestly at me as I stroked his head and bade him go home. He did not want to go, but I persisted until he started off very slowly, looking back occasionally, to see if he might not be recalled.
“If we had known,” I often said to myself afterward—“if we had only known, the events of that dreadful night might have been prevented.”
But we didn’t know, and we went forward blindly, our spirits rising as we joined the throng, all seemingly hurrying in the same direction—to the Neva.
Only those who have seen the Neva in the height of its glory can imagine the beauty of that night, when the frozen river was full of gayly costumed people, some skating, some driving, some gliding swiftly down the steep toboggans, others sitting in the little booths, looking on. Over all was the full moon, which, with the many lanterns and torches, made it nearly as light as day. We had seen nothing like it since we had been in the city, and Jack was wild with delight, as we hurried on to where Sophie was waiting for us at the foot of some stairs leading down to the river.
At first we did not see her, as she stood a little back inthe shadow; but, at the sound of our voices, she came forward, wrapped in furs, with her cap drawn so closely over her face that only a very small part of it was visible. I noticed, too, that she had on eyeglasses, which I had seen her wear once or twice in the street, and which I thought very becoming to her. By way of explanation, she said to me that her eyes were so weak from the effects of her cold that she was wearing the glasses as a protection from the wind and the glare of light on the river. I remembered afterward, when many things came to me, that there were no signs of her cold in her voice, which was natural, but very low, as we walked side by side to one of the shelters, where we took a seat.
Her mother was a good deal upset, she said, with the visit of the gendarme looking for Ivan, while she herself was nervous to an extent she did not understand.
“That it should have happened before you humiliated us greatly,” she said. “You saw my father arrested; you saw them searching for Ivan. Fate seems to have drawn us together in a strange manner. You may see me arrested before you leave this accursed country.”
She laughed, but there was bitterness in the laugh, and her voice had a hard ring in it I had never heard before. I wanted to ask her if she knew of what her brother was suspected, and if she had any reason to think he was in the city; but a feeling of delicacy restrained me.
“And with her a big dog, jumping and leaping.”
“And with her a big dog, jumping and leaping.”
“And with her a big dog, jumping and leaping.”
I spoke of the dinner with Madame Seguin, and she said:
“Yes, I know; and you ought to feel honored. Madame does not often entertain. She is proud and hard—harder than her son, whose vocation does not suit her.”
“Do you know why he took it up?” I asked, and she replied:
“Only by hearsay, which is not always reliable. I have heard that he was once a nihilist, or a sympathizer with them, and sought after by the police. To save himself, he left the ranks and became what he is. Just what he believes I do not know. He stands high with his employers as a faithful and competent officer. I think, too, that he means to be kind to the poor wretches who are so unfortunate as to be caught by him.”
I don’t know why I did it, but I told of the note sent me by Chance, asking me not to go out that night, it was so cold. With no apparent reason that I could see, Sophie was disturbed or annoyed.
“No colder to-night than to-morrow night,” she said. “How did he know of your intention, and did he know I was to be with you?”
I told her of Jack’s interview with Zaidee, and I presumed he had said Sophie was to accompany us.
“Zaidee!” she repeated. “She hears everything and knows everything! She is madame’s right hand, picked from the street, as you may have heard. She is the brightest girl I have ever seen, with as many sides to her as the occasion seems to require, but at heart I believe she is an anarchist. She was born in a hotbed of them. Madame makes much of her—takes her to Monte Carlo, where she stands or sits by her mistress, watching the play, which she frequently directs, telling madame where to put her money and taking charge of it after it is gained. Sometimes madame plays recklessly, and loses, when Zaidee scolds her sharply; then she plays recklessly again, and wins, and Zaidee makes her quit and come home before she loses it all. All this, of course, is gossip; but, somehow, we have a good deal of it with regard to families like the Seguins, once in the swim, now hovering around the edge. Not Michel. I do not think he cares a sou for society. His mother does, but she is too old to get a foothold again, and does not like it.”
During this conversation Jack and Katy had been taking a spin on the skating track, and some gendarmeshad passed us, looking a little curiously at us, as we sat by ourselves. One of these was Paul Strigoff.
“I detest him!” Sophie said. “He is cruel and feelingless,” and it seemed to me that she drew back into the shadow until the officers had gone by.
At this point Katy and Jack came back, flushed with the exercises, which Jack was eager to try again. But Katy was tired, and sat down between myself and Sophie, who took her hand, rubbing it and asking if she were cold.
“Oh, no; it was delightful,” Katy said. “I am only tired,” and I fancied that she leaned a little on Sophie, or that Sophie drew her to herself.
“I think it is time we went home,” Sophie said, at last. “There will be no more dukes or duchesses here to-night. You have seen all the notables you will see, and it must be nearly eleven. I told mother I would not stay late. She is very nervous if I am out of her sight.”
Jack protested that it was not late, and the sight too fine to lose. Sophie was firm.
“I thinkImust go,” she said, and was about to rise, when our attention was arrested by the sight of a girl, bareheaded, with her black hair streaming in the wind, as she came bounding across the ice, and with her a bigdog, jumping and leaping, sometimes behind her, sometimes in front, but never very far from her. It was Zaidee, who came to my side, and took me by the arm.
“Zaidee!” I said, trying to shake her off. “What is it? Why are you here?”
She was breathing so heavily that at first she could not speak, and, when at last she did, it was in long-drawn gasps.
“I’ve come,” she began, “to—tell—you—tell her—tell him”—and she pointed to Sophie—“tell him—to—go—now! They are after him! Too late! They’ve got him!” she wailed, and dropped at my side, exhausted.
Sophie had understood, and I shall never forget the expression of her face when, from some unseen quarter, a man appeared in front of us, and, laying his hand on her shoulder, said: “Ivan Scholaskie, I have found you at last!”
She was still holding Katy’s hand, and clung to it as if in this frail girl there was some hope of help. She had thrown back the collar of her coat, revealing her face more fully, and, rising to her feet, stood up erect, and taller than I had ever seen her. She had played a desperate game, and lost, and was now every inch a man in word and gesture.
“You have done a fine thing, Paul Strigoff! I congratulate you!” she said, with bitter scorn; “but I am sorry it should have occurred before these friends of mine,” and she turned toward me. I felt my strength leaving me for a moment, and I leaned on Zaidee for support.
Jack did not understand the gendarme’s words, but he did the action, and, with all his impulsive, American blood, sprang to the rescue.
“Let her go, I tell you! You don’t arrest girls, do you? Shame on you! Let her go! We know her well. She is our friend. She came with us from Paris.”
He held on to the officer’s arm with all his might, while Chance, who knew something was wrong, and that the feeling was against the gendarme, growled ominously, ready to spring, if told to do so. I think the gendarme was amused, or he would have walked off at once with his prisoner. As it was, he waited a few moments, while Sophie said to Jack: “No use, my boy! The game is up! I am not Sophie Scholaskie. I am Ivan, her brother!”
Then Katy, who still held Sophie’s hand, stood up, and, though she could not speak the gendarme’s language, nothing could have been more eloquent than herupturned face, on which the moonlight fell, bringing out all its outlines of beauty, while her blue eyes were full of tears and entreaty, as she looked steadily at the gendarme. She knew he could not understand her, but her lips framed the words, “Be merciful!”
She could not speak loud, and was obliged to whisper; but I heard it distinctly, and so did Sophie, who smiled upon the excited girl pleading for her. I was on my feet by this time, and felt Zaidee’s strong arm around me as I stood. I recognized the man whom I had encountered twice before, and I knew he recognized me.
There was a sneer on his face, as he said:
“Madame has brought with her two fine advocates for her friends. I wish I could do their bidding, but I cannot. The law must take its course, and Ivan Scholaskie has baffled us a long time.”
“Of what is he accused?” I asked; and Paul replied:
“A nihilist, steeped to the dregs, and plotting for the assassination of the present czar, just as the last one was assassinated.”
“Paul Strigoff,” and Sophie’s voice rang out with all the force of a strong, insulted man, “it is a lie! I am not a murderer! I know of no plot against the czar. If I did, I should try to stop it, even by giving information.I sympathize with the nihilists, but I did not come from Paris to meet them. I came to see my mother, and very foolishly went twice to one of the old haunts, in my proper guise as a man.”
This last she said to me, and continued:
“Tell my mother, please. Comfort her, if you can, and don’t feel too anxious about me. The fortress cannot hold me, nor Siberia keep me always. I shall escape—not at once, perhaps, but later on. They can prove nothing against me except sympathy. And now, one word of warning: Leave St. Petersburg! This is the second time you have been mixed up with the Scholaskies. A third time might be fatal. We are dangerous acquaintances. I am glad I have met you. I shall never forget it. Something tells me I shall see you again. Good-by!”
She still held Katy’s hand, and now she stooped and kissed her, just as she had done once before. It was a long, passionate kiss, which told me the truth, and made me shudder a little.
“Forgive me!” she said; “it will be something to remember in the days of banishment and loneliness to come.”
Katy did not resent it, and it seemed as if her quiveringlips wished to return it; but they didn’t. Meanwhile, Chance had pushed himself up close to Sophie, who recoiled from him in terror.
“Did you set the dog on me?” she asked the officer, while I answered, quickly:
“No; he came with Zaidee, and she came to warn you. Don’t you remember?”
“Yes; I do now,” Sophie said; and, taking her hand from Katy, she reached it out to the peasant girl, down whose face tears were falling, and almost freezing as they fell.
“Thank you, Zaidee,” she said. “How did you know I was to be arrested?”
“Oh, I knows, and hears, and acts,” was Zaidee’s reply, while Sophie continued:
“Did M. Seguin know you were coming?”
Zaidee shook her head. “I tells no secrets,” she said. “Only monsieur did not want any of you to come to-night. He sent Chance to tell you.”
She looked at me, and I now understood the purport of the note, as did Sophie.
“Thank him for me,” she said to Zaidee; and then, as people were beginning to gather near us, and whisper her identity, and the officer was growing impatient, andmuttering that she had talked quite long enough with those Americans, she said to him: “I am ready, but don’t escort me as a prisoner. I shall go quietly. I know there is no escape.”
She looked at us, with the most pitiful smile I ever saw on a human face; then walked away, with a firm step, by the officer’s side, while Chance, who had sniffed mischief in the atmosphere, set up a most unearthly howl, which went echoing across the river and was heard above the noise of a band not far away. It was Chance’s farewell, and Zaidee put her hand over his mouth, to keep it from being repeated.
“How did Paul know just where to find us?” I said to Zaidee.
She shrugged her shoulders, and replied:
“Somebody knew he was coming with you; not Monsieur Seguin; he had nothing to do with it. But his mother—eh! eh!” and she grated her little, sharp teeth. “They knew she was to be with the three Americans—madame, a young lady and a boy—and the young lady would probably wear a scarlet cloak and hood.”
“Oh, auntie, it was my cloak which betrayed her, and I’ll never wear it again!” Katy exclaimed; and, laying her head in my lap, she sobbed bitterly.
Jack was growing cold, and standing first on one foot, then on the other, while Zaidee’s teeth were chattering, and she had taken off her apron and tied it around her head and ears. Chance was getting almost beyond control, with his low yelps of disapprobation. Many curious eyes were upon us, and I felt that we must leave.
“I will go with you to the hotel, and help lead her,” Zaidee said; and it was her strong arm which kept Katy up and moving until we reached the hotel, where she went into violent hysterics for half an hour, during which I found Zaidee of great service.
It was late before Zaidee left us, saying: “Old madame will look at the clock, and blow; but I’m used to it, and I’m not afraid. She can’t do without me. I’ll tell you if I hear things about him. Good-by!”