CHAPTER IVIN SPORTING EUROPE
IT was evening when Sana arrived in Paris. The weary railroad trip from the seaboard had made her rather tired, so instead of looking around for less expensive accommodations she went at once to the Hotel Mercedes, facing the Place de l’Etoile.
In her room, she spent the next hour or so removing the stains of travel and then, fresh as a rose, set forth to satisfy the cravings of hunger that were making themselves quite apparent. She gave the hotel dining-room but a passing glance. No, that would not do. Paris already had her in its grip! She must seek gayety and refreshment. Ah! The very place. The Café de Paris. Here she would surely meet someone of past acquaintance. For the Café was noted for the pleasure it afforded and also for the excellence of the food. Some friend of hers would surely be there.
Her assumptions proved correct. Hardly had she seated herself when a gentleman at an adjoiningtable spoke rather loudly, “Well, if it isn’t Mademoiselle Sana!”
Sana turned her head and recognized the speaker as a Mr. Johns, an Englishman and a friend of the head of the Companie le Developpement du Sahara. His companion was an elderly lady of distinct refinement and apparent wealth. In response to his polite bow Sana smiled back “Bon soir!”
Mr. Johns rose and came over to her table with an invitation to join his companion and himself at dinner. To this Sana gladly consented.
Mr. Johns introduced his companion as the Princess Cassandra, adding in way of explanation, “Left Russia in time to escape the Soviets.”
The Princess was sipping black coffee, evidently preparing to keep awake the coming night. This she made clear to Sana by saying that they had the entire night before them and intended to wind up at Maxim’s. When they invited her to go with them Sana, pretending fatigue, begged to be excused. But her pleas were useless; she must go, so she finally agreed. Her first night again in gay Paris!
Finished dining, they left the Café and went to the Thêátre Chatelet to see the Ballet. The performance ended, the party went slumming through the Latin quartier, eventually finding themselves, about three in the morning, at Maxim’s. This wasthe place the Princess had been so anxious to see. Sana had been there before and knew what to expect in the way of dancing, and feminine display.
But all parties must come to an end, so the rosy fingered Dawn, tinting the east, finds Sana saying goodbye to her friends, a thoroughly tired but happy girl.
Sana soon renewed the acquaintance of many old friends, but her stay in Paris was short. Too short perhaps to suit the many admirers of the lovely girl! The Princess Cassandra had been attracted to the girl from the start and after much urging she secured Sana’s consent to accompany her as a companion on a tour of the continent.
Together they visited the great cities and famous resorts. Delighted as she was with the companionship of the girl, Cassandra gained in another direction. Sana proved a great attraction to the younger aristocrats of the places they visited. And it is easily seen that with such a host of admirers at Sana’s beck and call, it was hardly possible that some of them should not fall to the lot of the Princess, even though it be considered charity on the part of the man.
Wealth alone does not draw in circles of their kind, and Cassandra, still beautiful for her age, recognized the advantages of having Sana at her side.It was the philosophy of a homely woman making it her business to associate with a beautiful and charming girl. She might be left out of the play once in a while—when but one attendant was at hand. But when more than one put in an appearance she had the chances which, otherwise, she would never get. Many a mother with a marriageable daughter plays this role and not unconsciously. One seldom finds the grouchy, business-worn husband on the scene.
But regardless of the Princess’ aims, these new associations brought Sana recreation and forgetfulness of the past.
It was a daily experience of Sana’s to make new friends. Hers was a beauty and charm that none could resist. And few, if any, made any serious attempt to keep on resisting!
At Monte Carlo—that haven of chance, that has seen the birth of so many romances and their death, Sana met Count von Sarnoff, a nephew of the Princess. Von Sarnoff was nothing more or less than a sporting lounge-lizard, ever ready to call the tune but never willing to pay the piper.
With him it was a case of love at first sight. Sana, however, was in no mood to respond to his protestations of sincere love. Too bitterly disastroushad been the result of her first love and too fresh her memory of it.
Von Sarnoff, however, was not to be put off so easily. He kept continually showering her with messages of his affection, voicing his sentiments in ardent notes, accompanied by exquisite bouquets and rare gifts. He gave, with the moneyed aid of his aunt, the Princess, a series of elaborate entertainments in Sana’s honor. Persistent as he was in his effort to win her love, his determination availed nothing.
One evening, as he knelt at her feet, holding her hand, Sana unburdened herself of her true feelings.
“As much as I admire you, my dear boy,” she said earnestly, “I could not think of marriage. I want to be free, and after all, I do not care a great deal for this gay life.”
He broke in, pleadingly, “But, Sana, we can give up this sort of life and return to my estates in Russia to live a quiet life.”
“Live quietly in Russia!” Sana smiled, “you propose the impossible! Are not the Bolshevists after your very skin and did you not flee for your life? Were not your estates taken away? And now you propose to take me to that very place!”
“Do not treat the matter lightly, my beloved.Come with me, my queen. My parents will be only too delighted to receive you as their daughter.”
“But what would your aunt say of your intentions? I do not think she would approve of them.”
“Of course not. She would miss your charming companionship.”
“It is better, Sarnoff, that you forget me.”
“On account of my aunt?”
“No,” Sana said, rather hesitatingly.
“Why, then? For what reason? Do you not like me a little bit,” he pleaded, peering at her with anxious eyes.
Sana, shaking her head, responded to the last question with “Yes, I do. But not enough to marry you.”
“Then let me teach you how,” he acclaimed eagerly.
“I can readily believe you to be an excellent teacher in that respect, but your efforts would be useless.”
Anxiously, “Are you in love with someone else? Tell me.”
“Oh, no. I thought your aunt had told you....”
Von Sarnoff interrupted her quickly. “No. I only know that she does not want me to take you away as that would mean her loss of you, dearest.”
He pressed his lips to her hand, murmuring, “Dearest, dearest.”
Sana withdrew her hand and attempting to rise, said, “Come, Sarnoff, it is getting late. You must go.”
“I will, if you give me hope,” he begged, unsteadily getting on his feet.
“I shall soon leave this place.” Sana rose from her chair and turned away.
Von Sarnoff was at her side in an instant, crying in hurt surprise, “What, Sana, you are going to leave me?”
“Yes. Tomorrow, your aunt and I leave for Baden-Baden.”
“Positively?”
“Positively!”
“Then I shall see you there later. But now kiss your ‘little boy’ goodbye.”
Before Sana could realize it, or do anything to stop him, he held her tight in his arms, madly kissing her lips, forehead and hair.
Wrenching herself free Sana turned on him, a dangerous light flashing in her eyes, “I am not accustomed to that, Count von Sarnoff. I am no courtesan!”
Swiftly she crossed the room, returning with his hat and cane, which she tendered to him, with an icy“Good night.” Her manner plainly showed her contempt for his rashness.
Bowing low, von Sarnoff, even then dared kiss her hand, saying softly “Auf Wiedersehen,” to which Sana had not the heart to reply.
True to her word, Sana and the Princess Cassandra left the following morning for Baden-Baden, Sana noting gladly that von Sarnoff was not at the station to say “goodbye.”
Arriving at Baden-Baden they engaged rooms at the Hotel Stephanie, on the right bank of the Oos. Sana was fairly enchanted by this gorgeous hostelry, surrounded with its beautiful gardens and directly opposite the Lichtentaler-Allee. It was a fairyland, the playground of the wealth of Europe.
Princess Cassandra had many acquaintances there, and now, accompanied by the charming Sana, she was more popular than ever. Immediately she and Sana were in the midst of the social whirl. No dinner party or other function was complete without their presence.
A week, the days and nights of which were a continual round of pleasure, passed before von Sarnoff put in an appearance. Sana was at dinner among a group of friends, when he was announced. Joining the party he proved the gayest of the gay. But his eyes were constantly upon Sana. He noted herevery word—her every act. He managed that evening to offer an apology for his rudeness and Sana, believing him to be sincere, forgave him.
Again she became the target of his amorous attentions. His determination seemed fired anew. He catered to her every whim—made a slave of himself, but pressing his suit all the while.
A few days later, to cap the climax, he gave a dinner in her honor. It was one of the most exotic revels ever held at the resort and that is saying a great deal.
At this private banquet he made violent love to her. Piqued somewhat at her constant refusal to entertain his suit, and encouraged, too, by the wine he had consumed von Sarnoff kneeling at her side, suddenly reached down, grasped one of Sana’s tiny feet and quickly removed the jewel encrusted slipper. Rising to his feet, rather shakily, it is true, he filled the slipper with champagne, and holding it aloft in one hand, the other sweeping over the select assembly, he cried, “To the health of Sana, the Queen of Queens.” Then amid the cheers of the diners, he drank from the slipper.
The eager von Sarnoff grasped the shimmering garmentThe eager von Sarnoff grasped the shimmering garment, buried his face into its perfumed folds and looked up with eyes of lust and passion.
The eager von Sarnoff grasped the shimmering garment, buried his face into its perfumed folds and looked up with eyes of lust and passion.
The eager von Sarnoff grasped the shimmering garment, buried his face into its perfumed folds and looked up with eyes of lust and passion.
Around them a group of professional dancers, scantily attired, were performing risque solo dances, but von Sarnoff, sensual though he was, had no eyes for their display. But like Herod of old begging Salome to dance, he pleaded with Sana to give them an exhibition of her dancing art. What tempestuous thoughts ran through her mind, one cannot tell, but with a wild laugh and the cry “I will” Sana sprang up on the table, and kicking off the remaining slipper sent it flying across the room. Her dinner gown was too long to allow of much freedom, so with deft hands she lowered the shoulder straps and cast it off. The eager Sarnoff grasped the shimmering garment, buried his face into its perfumed folds, and looking up with eyes full of lust and passion shouted, “This is the dance of the virtuous vampire.”
Sana was dancing the dance de Rochelle had taught her while under his hypnotic influence. Wild and free! It spoke of desert nights and starry skies; of whispering winds and silent places. A dance of beauty. Suddenly she ceased dancing. The fire had died down. The coaxing, passionate creature was gone, and in its place stood just a girl.
Springing from the table, she demanded her dress. With a mocking laugh von Sarnoff sprang aside, crying “No. I shall keep it always as a souvenir of passion’s maddest moment.”
With a look of supreme disgust at the laughing guests, Sana pulled the cloth off an adjoining table, regardless of the flying dishes and silver, and wrapping it about her body, fled from the room, followedby von Sarnoff, pouring forth words of endearment and affection.
Rushing to her rooms, she slammed the door in his face with a cry that bespoke the agony in her heart, “Keep away! I hate you!”
That night, counseled by heads wiser than his own, von Sarnoff left the place.
Among Sana’s various friends at the Stephanie was Herr Heinecke, a young German engineer.
Heinecke was combining business with pleasure during his stay at the hotel. He had been sent to Baden-Baden to supervise an electrical development in the suburbs of the city, and took advantage of the opportunity to partake of the baths, the efficacy of whose waters are known the world over—in fact the Romans were aware of it, in the days that are gone, and spoke of the waters as Aquae Aurelias.
But the waters and his work were not the only things to occupy his thoughts. There was Sana. If one could question his mind or seek out the innermost regions of his heart, Sana would loom up high above even his work. His work could be neglected, he reasoned with his conscience, but not Sana. She could not, would not be neglected.
Even though she had already refused his offer of marriage he was determined to win her.
Sana and he were at the Hotel Messmer, one afternoon, enjoying the music and refreshments, which were delightful. The hotel was a favored resort and attracted a large number of noblemen and people of wealth.
Heinecke had just asked Sana a second time for her hand when she felt a strange sensation stealing over her. It was as if some power were seeking to enter her mind and control her body. Against her will she turned her head to look behind her. For a moment she stared in amazement. Her breath came in gasps. She sank back in her chair as though on the point of fainting, then finding her voice she shrieked “de Rochelle!”
It was but too true. There at a table a few steps away sat de Rochelle, as forbidding as ever. He had seen her with Heinecke and resorting to the powers he had exercised of old, he concentrated his mind upon hers, while staring at the back of her head, thus drawing her attention to him.
Heinecke, who was somewhat upset by this strange and unaccountable state of affairs, questioned Sana as to the cause. As briefly as possible and in a low trembling tone, Sana answered, “That man, the fourth table over, is François de Rochelle, who was once my sweetheart. He possesses a strange hypnotic influence over me and may causeme to commit rash acts. Even now I feel his power and I am afraid.”
Sana’s companion looked over to de Rochelle, who did not once take his eyes from the girl, although he was aware that Heinecke was watching him. This attitude made even the phlegmatic Heinecke furious. As in the days when he was a member of a student’s corps, he was ready to fight a duel at a moment’s notice—the three scars on his right cheek bore mute testimony to this spirit of younger days. So calling a waiter he sent his card to de Rochelle.
Rochelle well knew the intent of that action. He picked up the card, looked at it and with a sneering laugh, tore it into bits, tossing the scraps of paste-board back on the salver, in such a way that there was no mistaking his meaning.
Heinecke could only stare, muttering to himself, “No satisfaction to be had. Too bad.”
Sana was eager to get away from de Rochelle, from the hotel, from everybody, so hurriedly taking Heinecke by the arm, she fairly dragged him away, saying, for want of something better, “Now, look at what you have done!”
From the time that Sana had been carried unconscious from the morgue, in New York, to the hour of her departure for Europe Sana had been underthe constant care of Dr. White and the O’Briens and they had purposely withheld from her the news that the body that had been found in the river was not that of de Rochelle. A newspaper reporter, who was at the scene of the drowning when the body was recovered, took it upon himself to say that the man was de Rochelle. Some cards and papers had been found on the body bearing the name of “François de Rochelle,” so it was as a “François de Rochelle” that the man was buried. As a matter of fact it developed a few days later that the suicide was a young bank clerk, who, with de Rochelle, had speculated heavily with part of the funds raised for the purpose of carrying out the work of the Sahara Development Organization. Things had gone wrong on the market that day and the clerk had called on de Rochelle, with a view to securing some money to cover their margins. De Rochelle was not to be found, but on the table lay a note, addressed to Sana, in which he stated that he had been discovered at last. He was going away forever. He asked her, also, to tell the bank clerk of his leaving.
The clerk, believing at once that de Rochelle was referring to his shady dealings on the Street, in his note to Sana, set about to destroy the note upon the radiator. He had been equally guilty in these money matters and wanted to hide his trail as much as possible.It was while crossing the Bridge that his mind, haunted by the fear of possible consequences, gave way and he took the fatal leap.
Once more had Fate thrown Sana and de Rochelle together. To the girl it meant grave dangers and misery. In the silence of her apartment she determined to leave the place—secretly if necessary. Slipping quietly down to the lobby of the hotel, she dispatched a message to her mother, announcing her intention to come home. Sana realized what she would have to sacrifice, but nothing counted. She only wanted to get away, far away from de Rochelle.
The following day, about noon, Sana was crossing the gardens at the Kurhaus, where hundreds were promenading and listening to the band. She had been shopping, purchasing little odds and ends, among them gifts for her mother.
Suddenly a hand was placed upon her arm. Frightened she turned to confront de Rochelle. She tried to evade him, but he only grasped her arm more tightly so that escape was impossible. In a low, but not unkindly tone, de Rochelle spoke, asking her to join him at lunch at the Messmer. Sana refused and while he was insisting upon her doing so, aid came in the form of Heinecke.
A few curt words from him placed de Rochelle on the defensive. An instance later, however,Heinecke had taken his glove and struck de Rochelle across the face. Taking Sana’s arm he walked off, leaving the furious de Rochelle, whose face had turned to ashen gray, to cry, “You will meet me?”
Heinecke turned, drew himself up to full height and with a stiff bow, retorted, “I am at your service!”
The next morning, before Heinecke had arisen, a knock was heard at his door. The seconds of de Rochelle were announced. They had come to inform him that de Rochelle was the insulted one and that he was exercising his privilege of choosing weapons. He had decided upon pistols, shots to be exchanged until one or the other fell.
Had Heinecke the option he would have chosen the sabre of his student days, that being his favorite weapon. However, he was not afraid. His army training had taught him the use of a pistol, and in his heart he was sure that this affair would certainly win Sana.
Sana, however, on hearing of the coming duel, sought Heinecke and begged him to desist, saying “de Rochelle is an expert in the use of a pistol. I have seen him sever a telephone cord at twenty paces and hit a plum I had thrown into the air.”
To which entreaties Heinecke replied, with ashrug of his shoulders, “This is an affair of honor.”
The next morning, the two duelists, with their seconds and a doctor, went to a secluded section of the Black Forest, about an hour’s ride from the resort. The day was bright and the cleared spot in the forest, where blood would flow and probably a life be sacrificed, had been well chosen by the seconds the preceding day.
The preliminaries over, the two men took their stand, facing each other at fifteen paces. Pistols were leveled. They awaited the word to fire—Heinecke cool and determined, de Rochelle perhaps equally determined but rather shaky, having spent the previous evening drinking champagne in celebration of the coming duel.
Sana was up before daybreak that morning. When Heinecke left, she followed in an automobile, at a distance, so as not to arouse suspicion. At a road crossing she had lost track of Heinecke’s car, but shortly afterward discovered it, and another, parked by the roadside. She ordered the chauffeur to stop the car, jumping from it before it had come to a standstill.
As she did so, she heard two shots ring out simultaneously, echoing and re-echoing through the silent forest. In feverish haste she ran in the direction from whence the sound had come. Another deafeningreport vibrated the morning air. Turning aside, Sana came upon the clearing. The two combatants still held their ground, while the seconds were reloading the pistols. The weapons again in their hands, Heinecke and de Rochelle renewed the combat. As they leveled the pistols, Sana wanted to cry out, but running forward blindly, stumbled and fell. As she arose, she heard the word “Three” and looking up saw the flash of the shots. To her horror, she saw one of the men, she could not tell which, waver and sink helpless to the earth.
“Oh, God!” The words came in a quivering cry. Because of her, a woman, a man had just fallen wounded, perhaps dead.
At the cry a man stepped forward. It was Heinecke. He pointed in the direction of de Rochelle, who, badly wounded in the right shoulder, was being attended by the doctor.
Sana looked at the fallen man. Then came reaction. With a withering look of scorn, and unmindful of Heinecke’s outstretched hand, she upbraided him, “Shame unto you! You have soiled your hands and stained your soul with the blood of a creature not worthy of the bullet you fired into him!”
At her cry he stepped forwarAt her cry he stepped forward, pointing in the direction of de Rochelle, who, badly wounded in the right shoulder, was being attended by the doctor.
At her cry he stepped forward, pointing in the direction of de Rochelle, who, badly wounded in the right shoulder, was being attended by the doctor.
At her cry he stepped forward, pointing in the direction of de Rochelle, who, badly wounded in the right shoulder, was being attended by the doctor.
Heinecke looked at the girl in a strange, curious way, then looking toward de Rochelle, he spoke in a low and somewhat sad tone, “If it had not been for his coming, you might have been mine by this time. I feel like putting this man out of your way and life forever. Leave me—for a while at least.”
Sana, realizing his desire, did not move, but whispered beseechingly, “Heinecke, I implore you, stop! I do not love you, so why risk your life for me? Consider, please.”
Her plea was in vain. Heinecke, changing his tone of voice and manner, commanded her to leave. Upon her refusing to do so, he attempted to gently lead her away, when the mocking voice of de Rochelle reached them. He had gotten to his feet.
“Here! Herr Heinecke!” The words came with a sneer. “You shall not hide behind a woman’s skirts. Stand your ground, you coward!”
With this he grasped the pistol his second had reloaded and aimed it at Heinecke.
His sneering laugh chilled Sana’s blood as he continued, “Come back. I will kill you like a dog in this woman’s presence.”
Heinecke, with a shrug of the shoulders, awaited the shot.
De Rochelle had barely time to pull the trigger when the gun was wrested from his hand. Two men had jumped from the brush behind him and were now holding him a prisoner. De Rochelle demandingan explanation of what he termed “an outrage,” was politely informed that he was under arrest and was shown a warrant as their authority.
The sight of this caused Sana to give a sigh of relief. Her plan had worked!
After Heinecke had told her of the proposed duel, Sana finding her pleas of no avail, sought to prevent the combat in another manner. She, of course, had been informed on her return to Paris of the manner in which de Rochelle had run the affairs of the company he represented in New York. She knew, too, just how much of the company’s money he had appropriated for his own uses. So with this knowledge in mind she went to one of those detective agencies, to be found the world over, where “hard cash” is a means to an end and placed her proposition before them. Yes, it could be done! They would do anything for a consideration.
Accordingly two of the firm’s hirelings trailed de Rochelle that morning, armed with a fake warrant calling for his arrest and extradition to France, to answer charges of embezzlement. They had arrived on the scene a little late, but, nevertheless, in time.
Turning to Sana, de Rochelle addressed her, with supreme sarcasm, “You have done a noble thing. Noble indeed! To save your lover you have betrayedme. But wait. My love for you has gone. Insatiable hate has taken its place. As I have adored you in the past, so do I despise you now! I shall be free again, and I assure you, by God, that the day shall come when you will lie before me prostrate and pleading. And all your pleading shall be in vain!”
Raising his voice until it fairly shrieked at them he added, “You shall go down with me! It may take time, but I shall get even with you!”
Heinecke was about to spring forward, but Sana restrained him with “Please don’t.”
To which Heinecke replied, his lips twitching with scorn, “I’m sorry I couldn’t finish the job.”
That evening, leaving notes for her friends, the Princess Cassandra and Heinecke, Sana secretly left the gay watering-place to go home.