"Confounded silly, this!" he complained to himself. "Here I am, a lonely knight, eating a marvelously good dinner in enforced solitude, with a beautiful lady imprisoned in the upper rooms of the castle. In the rare old days I could go up and knock the jailers" heads together, break in the door, and bear the captive damsel away on my charger. But in this unromantic age I can"t even send in my card."
CHAPTER X
All unconscious of Paul"s presence only a few short steps away Mademoiselle Natalie Vseslavitch, for so we will call her until she herself chooses to reveal more, had rushed to her rooms, her heart almost overwhelmed by a new and dreadful burden.
The tidings she had left Lucerne to know, whose bearer was the black-bearded gentleman, which had so aroused Paul"s curiosity, were simply these. Her hand was sought in marriage.
Truly not such news as ought to make a maiden weep, you say, and yet what base political ends have not been served through the holy offices of the marriage service. And when a suit bears the approbation of one"s sovereign, is it not more nearly a command?
The cousin of our beautiful Natalie, one Prince Boris Ivanovitch, had long been a persistent suitor. What booted it that she would have none of his attentions? Was he not an heir apparent, and should a girl"s whim, her likes or dislikes, stand in the way of a powerful union? The Tsar of all the Russias had given him official sanction; to Prince Boris, and alas! to Natalie, the ceremony was as good as performed.
But what of the desires of her own tender girlish heart, her hopes, her sacred mission? Were all to be sacrificed on the altar of a great political alliance? Natalie cast herself on a divan in a paroxysm of grief and rage, and the imperial note, heavy with a gold crest and seals, fluttered in tiny pieces on the floor. In vain her maid essayed to comfort her. This latest blow was too heavy. Why did Boris not let her give him the vast estates, why must he insist upon _her_?--her love he never had, never could have. Once more the couch shook with her choking sobs.
After the first dreadful shock was over, Natalie calmed herself, and the innate strength, the quiet determination which had carried her so far on her mission a.s.serted itself. She would obey--the thought of disobedience cannot come to faithful subjects--but there was no haste.
Time can accomplish much.
Then, as the events of the past few days flitted before her mental vision there crept into her cheeks a faint tinge of colour as she thought of Paul. "Ah, my beloved--yes, beloved, though you know it not. I must see you once more." And the sudden memory of the hour when she last saw him so eager, so loving, all the fine lines of his virile strength thrown on the black screen of darkness, by the light of the burning summer house, mantled her cheek anew in crimson.
He of all the men she had ever seen was the one most worth loving. And then in confusion again at this admission, deep though it was in her thoughts, she dismissed her maid and curling up before the fire set her woman"s wit to match the machinations of her greedy relation.
And as she pondered, she smiled. If she _had_ acted on a sudden impulse once, she felt that she could be deliberate now. Having been somewhat indiscreet in the rustic tea-house, with a woman"s inconsistency she was determined to veer to a course of conduct exactly opposite.
She felt too well her power to draw Paul to her--indeed, what woman does not know her own capability to attract? And here was an opportunity to gain a brief respite from the grim path on which her destiny seemed to be leading her. She _would_ see him again.
Her bright eyes roved to the dainty table near at hand. She picked up a perfumed note, and read it again, and as she read, a happier look smoothed away the sharp lines of mental anguish which had marked the beautiful face but a short time before. The crested sheet bore the address of the Dalmatian Emba.s.sy in Paris, and was from the lovable old Countess Oreshefski, whose husband was the honoured Amba.s.sador.
"My dearest little Natalie," the cordial note of invitation began, and concluded with a rea.s.surance that the Countess expected her on the ninth of May, without fail.
Yes--the ninth of May--that was to-morrow. The Comtesse was insistent, and the Amba.s.sador himself had charged his spouse to invite her. Very well! She would be there.
And Mademoiselle Vseslavitch called her maid and gave her instructions to be ready to leave for Paris by the morning train.
The next day the little _cafe_ across the street from the humble _Hotel de la Republique_ was the richer by a generous gold piece, and the rubicund _proprietaire_ marvelled to his equally rubicund wife over the peculiar habits of the Englishman, who preferred to drink much black coffee and smoke many black cigars sitting at the little table in the doorway, rather than see the beautiful cathedral, as did all the other tourists.
Finally, Paul, impatient at his lengthy vigil, elicited the information, so much desired and yet so disappointing, that a _grande dame_, for surely she must be such to have so many servants, had honoured the humble hotel across the way by her presence for a brief twenty-four hours and only that morning had taken the train for Nice.
After this bit of information, mingled with much more voluble, mine host had further occasion to remark on the strange actions of "these English." For Paul"s sudden departure cut short what the landlord considered a really capable flight of oratory on his beloved cathedral.
CHAPTER XI
Paul did not reach Nice in a particularly pleasant mood. He knew that the task of finding the lady was much less simple than it had been at Langres. But he made a thorough search through the visitors" lists of all the hotels.
His persistence, however, found no reward. He could find no trace of Mademoiselle Vseslavitch whatever.
He had been in Nice two days, and his unsuccessful search began to tell upon his nerves. Realizing the need of relaxation of some sort--some diversion which might for the time being, turn his mind upon trivial things--he decided to spend an evening at Monte Carlo.
Paul was no great gambler--it was a sport in which he had never taken more than a pa.s.sing interest, but just then he thought it would serve his purpose.
He found himself after dinner therefore in the Casino at Monte Carlo, in a room flooded with light and with many people present--a quiet room for all that, for there was little sound except the monotonous cry of _croupiers_ and the sharp rattle of a ricochetting roulette ball.
As his eyes grew accustomed to the light he stepped forward into the room, only to stand still again and remain motionless, as though turned to stone.
For there, at a long table in the centre of the room, with piles of gold and notes before her, heavily veiled, sat--Mademoiselle Vseslavitch.
A little cry which Paul could not prevent breaking from his lips drew the eyes of all upon him. Mademoiselle herself glanced up and saw his gaze upon her.
She started and instantly Paul turned away and endeavoured to hide himself amid the odd jumble of men who stood round the table watching the play.
"What was she doing here?" Paul thought. A thousand bewildering conjectures flashed into his brain, only to prove inadequate.
Try as he might he could not reconcile the so obvious fact that she was a lady with the peculiar incidents which trod hard upon each other"s heels. He recalled the meeting with the strange Frenchman, which still remained a most baffling mystery.
Unconsciously, Paul took note of the men who hemmed the table in.
Every type of face presented itself--the fleshy cheeks of middle-aged Jews, of pale clerks and salesmen, prosperous-looking men who might have been commercial travellers, and here and there a more refined-looking man in evening-dress.
A few were still playing, but the majority were watching the fortunes of the veiled lady. She was, besides, the only woman in the room.
Paul stood for a few moments and watched her play. Nor was it difficult, even to his unpracticed eye, to see that she had begun to wage a losing fight against the bank.
Draped in a long opera cloak from which her bare arms were thrust, she sat forward eagerly in her chair, her lips trembling, her eyes bright as stars.
Her face and figure were in extraordinary contrast to her surroundings.
Every man in the room, Paul thought, appeared to feel that he was in the presence of one who not only had the right, but the power, to command respect, and the coa.r.s.e faces by which she was surrounded surveyed her with a certain deference.
As the game went on and the _croupier_ monotonously raked in the winnings of the bank, Paul suddenly divined the motive which had induced the lady to come there. Undoubtedly it was the hope that she might win enough to satisfy the cruel demands of those who persecuted her.
Quite evidently disturbed by his entrance, for the next few minutes she had apparently lost all track of the successful theory which she had been following. And Paul knew well enough that if a good player once becomes unnerved, his luck, for some strange reason, will change with his mood, and no efforts, however bold or desperate, will avail him anything.
It amazed Verdayne beyond measure that the lady could play such a game with so consummate a skill and so much evidence of experience. He judged that at some time or other she had had a little fling at Monte Carlo, and that profiting by such knowledge as she had acquired before, she had now been playing an inspired game for some incalculable stake.
If she won against the bank it would release her from her torment; no other theory was possible.
It made his heart grow cold with rage as he appreciated that he had been made the innocent instrument of such a hard experience for her.
So convinced did he become of this fact that he shouldered his way through the crowd, and leaning over her chair, whispered into her ear:
"Don"t be alarmed. I see you have been greatly upset. Please allow me to a.s.sist you."
The man at her right hand scowled angrily, but Paul turned to him with an urbane smile. "As you do not seem to be playing," he said, "perhaps you will allow me to have your chair?"